FAKING iT

events of the week joaquin cortes liveusher hall run endedHHH presentientrambert dance company edinburgh festival theatrerun endedHHHHH Halfway through self-styled pop-flamenco idol Joaqun Cortes's performance, the previously bone-dry dancer emerges from the wings and assumes his favourite crucifix position (a none-too-subtle reference to his status as a flamenco "god") with soaking wet hair and a bare chest liberally smeared in baby oil.

It is fake sweat, stage-managed to appear at the equally carefully manufactured apex of the show. And it is not the only act of fakery Naomi Campbell's ex-beau has up his flapping flamenco sleeves. This is flamenco with a swagger, with flashing, movie-star eyes and bright- white teeth, flamenco with a nudge and a wink and tightly-packed buns in spray-on black trousers.

But it is flamenco without the heart, the compassion, the "duende"(or spirit) that all true flamencas are considered blessed with - and since this is a solo show, there is none of the sexual (and very sexy) tension between performers that makes this centuries- old art form bristle with so much pain and passion.

The show is staged as a series of heavily amplified and gaudily lit high points, with Cortes offering a succession of heel- clattering crescendos and demanding raucous applause for every minuscule flick of his tousled hair. Flamenco fans know the art form is resplendent in baying machismo, but Cortes's look-at-me-now style turns the self-loving aspects of male flamenco into Chippendale- esque high parody.

He is not a bad dancer - his sweeping candelabra arms and rapid footwork bring nuggets of pleasure - but at times he is oddly graceless, his long arms and toned torso mismatched by a pair of surprisingly stubby wee legs.

The only thing that lives up to the extraordinary hype that surrounds this rather mediocre dancer is his brilliant band who outstrip him at every level when they get up to show off their own raw and real dance talents at the end. My advice? Ditch the short- ass and go it alone.

But if watching the mighty Joaqun Cortes was a giggle at best, Wayne McGregor's world premiere for Rambert Dance Company, PreSentient, was one of those rare theatrical moments were you feel you have witnessed something truly new and thrilling. Performed as part of a triple bill to mark artistic director Christopher Bruce's exit, PreSentient is an astonishing piece of dance.

Set to Steve Reich's Triple Quartet, this sharply-staged work carries all McGregor's usual choreographic hallmarks - the distended yet fluid movement, the alien yet deeply human feel - but here he has stripped away the digital trickery (he has a deep and long-lasting affinity with technology) to reveal himself as a pure movement choreographer of quite exceptional talent.

With its endless, shuddering stream of movement amid its moments of spiky awkwardness and velvety tenderness, this is a deeply affecting work that seems to speak with an eerie foreknowledge of a world yet to unfold.

Copyright 2002
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