There is no doubting that Antonio Gades can choreograph a great story. His flamenco version of Carmen had Gypsy blood scalding its veins and its choreography articulated the struggle between fate and desire with visceral clarity. In his 1994 production, Fuenteovejuna, however, Gades seems to have lost his instinct for what drives a good piece of dance theatre.
The story - presented by the Spanish National Dance Company and based on a grim piece of 15th-century Andalusian history - is a melodrama of lust and feudal politics. A despotic overlord tries to exercise his seigneurial rights over a local woman and vows revenge when she and her lover stand up to him. On the day of their betrothal he has the couple arrested and rapes her. The villagers break their centuries-old habit of acquiescence, storm their tormentor's castle and kill him.
This kind of basic plot is perfect for dance, and by far the strongest sections are the traditional ensembles where Gades moves between flamenco and Andalusian folk traditions.
Though the taped music is a disappointment, these deft, communal folk dances embody a convincing community at work and play. In between, flamenco solos delve deeper under the characters' skins. When the village mayor stands up to the overlord, his bullish shoulders are poignantly tensed for action and his feet gather a storm of outrage. When an older village woman dances for the lovers, a lifetime's experience is seemingly communicated through her keening body and vividly chattering feet. The cast of Fuenteovejuna are superb technicians and fine actors and they deliver all the emotional goods that Gades supplies.
But in the most climactic scenes, he leaves them empty-handed, losing confidence in his main vocabulary and turning instead to a disconcerting mix of styles and novelties. He flips his music jarringly from folk tunes to booming, badly recorded classical extracts, and his choreography morphs into a mix of modern dance, floaty ballet and slow-motion mime.
At a stroke Gades not only flouts the show's period atmosphere, but switches off its emotional impact. We can go along with the melodrama and the simplicity of the staging while the production feels culturally of a piece. When it tries to diversify its methods it drops into B-movie silliness and pastiche.
· Until June 22. Box office: 020-7863 8000.
