Punchdrunk's Masque of the Red Death continues at BAC, but what is arguably the UK's most important theatre building continues to roll out a programme of scratches and shows by emerging artists. During tonight's performance of Nic Green's show, a masked figure suddenly appeared at the back of the stage, but this accidental seepage of one performance into another hardly mattered as BAC is all about blurring boundaries.
In any case, Green's piece is exactly what it says on the tin: an ode to the glories of celestial formations and the process of making a show about clouds; it's pretty surreal. It is a fragile little oddity touched with a disarming dottiness as Green, with the help of eight-year-old Niamh Kelly, sings ditties, sets the tea urn boiling, makes use of fondue forks and scatters feathers, sometimes while wearing a yellow jumpsuit with a baby's cloud bib.
Perhaps it is not surprising that, following a performance in one of its previous incarnations (maybe the one when the liberal scattering of flour damaged the lights, or the one featuring sock puppets of Joni Mitchell and Les Dawson), a puzzled member of the audience enquired: "What is the genre of this work?"
Sometimes, it seems as insubstantial as a wispy cloud in a summer sky, and Green gets away with a great deal on charm alone. But she also cunningly matches form to content to examine loss of innocence and how the child's wonder in cloud pictures becomes the adult horror of the atomic mushroom cloud. There is, suggests Green, no going back - after all, we cannot pretend to learn to walk again once we know how. But if we look really hard, we will find beauty all around us. Real blue-sky thinking.
· Until March 15. Box office: 020-7223 2223
