Rambert's latest programme covers such a drastic range of styles that, with each work, the company look like a different troupe. It's a perception that favours the super-versatile dancers; for the viewer, it involves a jolting series of adjustments.
The evening seems to open in a haze of nostalgia, with Christopher Bruce's Hush. Its six characters, a family of Pierrot-faced circus players, appear to have walked straight out of the 1970s, as do some of Bruce's more fey stylistic quirks. Yet what Bruce also brings to the choreography is his consummate craft, especially his gift for wrapping seamless lines of dance around vividly observed detail. This evolves into one of his best works, the six dancers transformed into a sweetly believable family, led by Jonathan Goddard, who makes a simple move, curving his arm under his wife's chin, into a gesture of infinite tenderness.
The evening radically changes gear with Doug Varone's Scribblings, which transports the dancers to downtown New York, driven by the strident brilliance of John Adams's Chamber Symphony. There is a frenzy and glitter here, as the 17 dancers skitter through crazily complex formations. It's a shame that the middle duet, leaden with insomniac misery, feels overlong and gritty-eyed.
The dancers' biggest transformation comes with Itzik Galili's A Linha Curva, a samba-based party piece with a kick of capoeira. Initially, it seems ridiculous to see Rambert imitating the swagger of Brazilian revellers. But with a cast of 24 - made to look even bigger by the intensity of the lighting, the ramped-up percussion of the live band, and the tightly driven patterns of the choreography - the impact of the piece becomes irresistible.
