Review - Shall we dance at Sadler's Wells

Fourteen years after wowing London as the lead in Matthew Bourne’s all-male Swan Lake, Adam Cooper has gone from Royal Ballet rebel to established West End choreographer. His new show, Shall we Dance at Sadler’s Wells, is a tribute to Richard Rodgers, the legendary Hollywood composer and one of the most influential artists of the 20th century.

Cooper’s fascination with musical theatre was first evident in his exciting staging of Rodger’s On Your Toes in 2003. Originally choreographed by George Balanchine, Rodger’s 1936 Broadway production showed him to be a champion of dance, a role now filled by Cooper. Although a talented choreographer, this time around Cooper seems caught in a no-man’s land between classical dance and variety performance. With a varied ensemble cast, the production is lacklustre, neither one thing nor the other.

Although Cooper has tried to weave a largely unconnected storyline together through imaginative linking vignettes, this only highlights the dislocation of the whole. As the hero, he travels from shore to shore in search of his Dulcinea, by turn brooding and joyful. His numerous affairs take him from the Jazz clubs of London to a Viennese ballroom, a Russian wedding, the Orient and Wild West before finding his true love just off Ninth Avenue. However, his performance does not provide a strong enough thread to unite these different elements and only rarely do we see flashes of his former brilliance and stage presence.

The production is also let down by the limitations of some of the leading ladies. Emma Samms, who receives top billing as the vampish Swing girl, is deeply unconvincing. Best remembered as Fallon in Dynasty, her dancing is brittle and lacks both sensuality and drama. It's not all bad though: Lorraine Stewart is lovely in the Viennese waltz but it is Sarah Wildor, former principal at the Royal Ballet (and Cooper’s wife), who stands at the heart of the piece, despite a hideous costume. Her musicality and acting skills lend vulnerability and provides an emotional punch to an otherwise superficial spectacle. Slaughter on Ninth Avenue, her pas de deux with Cooper, shows the only moment of real depth in the entire programme. As a gunshot fires across the stage, she slumps, slightly quivering, in his arms. Sadly, only moments later the magic is completely lost when our hero finds the Right girl in brassy Ebony Molina.

The simplicity of the set design and use of colour is extremely effective. A circular section of the stage revolves, slickly moving tables and chairs around the Jazz café and turning the ballroom staircase into the stern of a liner while the dancers move around the space. The orchestra sits on a raised dais at the back of the stage forming part of the backdrop. The score itself moves seamlessly between musical numbers, woven together with great skill by Richard Balcombe. The hoedown medley is by far the best set piece, its sheer exuberance fuelling the performers as the hits from every musical come thick and fast.

Although I enjoyed the performance, it is hard to ignore its limitations. Neither ballet nor musical, the story is not strong enough to support such a varied programme without a central leading performance, which Cooper mysteriously fails to provide. Unlikely to satisfy serious balletomanes, Shall we dance will none-the-less plug the gap for those of us waiting for the return of Strictly.