When your love interest is basically a mirage, it’s hard to establish much human connection. That’s the conundrum for French choreographer Angelin Preljocaj in La Fresque, based on an old Chinese tale of a man who falls in love with a woman in a painting and is transported into the world of the picture.
What Preljocaj does capture very effectively is a dream state that grows increasingly hypnotic as the beat pulses on. The soundtrack from Air’s Nicolas Godin hops from simmering synth to west African groove to an outbreak of manic harpsichord, and, rather than build a single choreographic voice, Preljocaj shifts the character of the dance as each scene sheds its skin. It’s like waking into a new dream: one where dancers melt in jellified curves, one with slicing lines and pointed toes, one where they bounce en masse to the beat. The individual steps are not always inspired, but the mood is conjured.
Symbolising youthful beauty, hair is a major theme, whether tossed in sharp flicks of the head by the sirens in the painting (a la Rosas danst Rosas), tied into a marital knot (in homage to Bronislava Nijinska’s Les Noces, surely), or woven into a long rope reaching up to the ceiling that men climb up in a reverse Rapunzel. And it’s in the mesmerising projections by Constance Guisset, a sort of giant jellyfish made of fine, flowing strands.
It all looks fab, expensive, gorgeous, including the bronze warrior catsuits and floaty, strappy dresses of Azzedine Alaïa’s costumes. The somewhat hollow journey of La Fresque may not teach us much, but this is a great-looking show that does have its moments of magic.
• At Sadler’s Wells, London, until 2 October.
