Every dance form seems to go through a period of rigorous retrenchment. It's a strategy for health, as necessary as pruning an exuberant shrub. Modern dance went back to basics with the minimalist choreographers of the 1960s. Ballet tried deconstructing itself in the 90s, and now with Brazilian choreographer Bruno Beltrão, hip-hop is retreating from its image of macho virtuosity, perhaps to discover a more intellectual, enduring logic for itself. In H3 we're given hip-hop without a note of rap music or one cocky moonwalk.
The piece opens in near silence with two men dancing a nervy upper-body duet. Their heads jab, their arms and torsos pop with a jerky animation, suggestive of two alpha males engaged in a stand-off. More dancers enter, duet and trio variations follow. Then, with one of the drastic shifts of dynamic in which this work excels, the stage changes. Under flaring lights, all nine members of the group dance together, leaping, rolling and running backwards. When they finally crumple to the floor their splintering energy concentrates into a single dancer, who miraculously unfolds into a perfect handstand.
It's one of the few show-off moments in the evening, and however much you admire Beltrão's rectitude, you can't help wishing for more. The dancers in H3 are evidently impressive: every move carries a sense of technical prowess held in check. Beltrão's choreography is equally rich in ambitious ideas, which he seems to choose not to milk. Yet long before the work is over, its stop-start rhythm, fragmented structure and truncated dancing become deeply unsatisfying. It's as though Beltrão is showing us the clippings left over from pruning, rather than the shrub itself.
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