If you catch nothing else in FeEast, the festival of Central and Eastern European Arts in London until the end of the month, it should be Sclavi, The Song of the Emigrant - a dazzling, earthy piece of dance-theatre. That show, however, is a million miles away from Soul-étude, FeEast's first offering - an underwhelming and emotionally sterile installation-cum-performance from Czech artist Petr Niki.
There is a sense of excitement as we descend in groups into the dank belly of the Old Abattoir. Moving between spaces, we encounter strange sights: a woman encased in a Perspex piano, staring out at us as if from under ice; a harp submerged in water; a fishbowl carousel of cutout children's toys; a bed that seems to breathe; a sad mirror face that reflects back miserably at itself like a depressed Narcissus. The atmosphere is suitably damp and music fills the air, but it's hard to feel a sense of soul or indeed solitude when you are being herded around like a group of Japanese tourists.
The bulk of the evening comprises a concert given by the Balanescu Quartet (very good), while four performers prance around like open-mouthed children let loose in a shop full of 1980s-style executive toys and magnets. They mess about with bowling balls and Perspex tables, find themselves yearning for each other while restrained by bungee-style cords, and play hide and seek.
Apparently, it's all to do with our kinetic energy fields, but it just looks like four people having a lot of fun while we watch, having a whole lot less fun. They wield the miniature cappuccino frothers with glee, but I was neither shaken nor stirred.
· Ends tomorrow. Box office: 020-8237 1111.
