The Peacock Theatre was betting heavily on London's love affair with tango when it booked the Argentinian company Tango por Dos for a six-week run. Luckily, sell-out houses are proving the public's loyalty, as are the red carnations tossed during the show's closing bows.
The company's latest production follows the usual tango format in its semi- theatrical staging of various dance and music styles. It divides neatly in two halves, located first within an Argentinian tango club, and then within a Parisian nightclub, where the dancers, in sleek evening clothes, look more like celebrities than locals.
There's considerable period charm in the Argentinian scenes, which are set and costumed in tones of sepia, and the show does its best to convince us we're in a neighbourhood of Buenos Aires during the 40s and 50s. The first, showy couple dance emerges from some good-natured joshing as two dancers bump the others off the floor. There's a sweet scene of five guys practising their steps with louche competitive grace.
At various points dancers "wander" in off the street or "check" their lipstick and the "barman" Quique Ojeda bursts into deep vibrato song. If this stylised normality sometimes looks stiff-lipped (the show would benefit from an acting coach), it still gives a human face to the dancing, contrasting well with the glossiness of the second half.
Here the numbers feature a great deal of flick-knife leg action and extrovert lifting and slamming back bends, and they come in many costumes. But, ultimately, it's not the dancing that seduces the audience, but the dancers themselves.
Heading this cast is company director Miguel Angel Zotto, who has lips as thin as a blade and the technique of a showman. With his choppy footwork and tensed body he's more soloist than partner; his high spot is a whip-cracking Valentino number. His opposite is Osvaldo Zotto, who tenderly opens his body up to his partner (though unfortunately he and Lorena Ermocida deliver a practised virtuosity that leaves no room for erotic tension).
My personal favourites are called Ricardo Barrios and Natacha Poberaj. He is a thug of a dancer with huge arms and hands who almost hustles her around the floor, but his surprisingly teasing footwork reacts with her tarty, high-stepping style to spell real danger.
The other dancers are less identifiable, and their lack of diversity in age and character makes the evening occasionally bland. The band, however, have bags of personality and in the medley of Piazolla numbers they positively rock.
Until April 1. Box office: 0171-863 8222.
