Think of Cuba and you think of ailing dictators, peeling buildings and surprisingly efficient public services. You also think of salsa: that snake-hipped display of eroticism with its roots in the mating rites of Santerian spirit gods.
Jose is the embodiment of all these things - a child of the revolution who leaves Havana to complete his medical training in London, but abandons his studies in favour of teaching salsa classes, which offer far more hands-on opportunities with the opposite sex. Among his students is Miranda, a timid, God-fearing girl who simply wants to learn a few moves for her wedding, but unleashes a core of burning sensuality which leads to temptation and betrayal.
Felix Cross's drama, produced by the Octagon in association with Nitro, can be a little histrionic, yet there is real heat in the debut theatre score by Alex Wilson, one of the country's leading young Latin jazz composers.
Cross, who also directs, has certainly put the work in, recruiting artists from the National School of Dance in Havana; while Debra Michaels' choreography makes a clear distinction between the fluid sensuality of authentic, Cuban salsa and the British night-class version, which resembles a strange, non-combative form of judo.
If there is a flaw, it is that the script attempts to pursue more plot lines than it can sustain. In plain textual terms, it's hard to see why we should have any sympathy for such a cynical womaniser as David Gyasi's Jose. Yet he only needs to engage his hips for all to be explained. And it's painful to watch Madeline Appiah's sweet Miranda sweetly shimmying out of her depth. If only she'd signed up for beginners' tap class instead.
· Until March 3. Box office: 01204 520661 Then touring.
