When you toss a ball into the air its first rebound will be vigorous. The next bounce is not so high. A few plops later and it will be rolling off into the long grass. This law of diminishing returns plagues Philippe Decoufl?’s Sombrero.
Given his track record (Decoufl?’s company has been running since 1983), you want to go along for the ride, but Sombrero stutters to a halt long before it reaches its lonesome gaucho finale. Those expecting the smart joys of Decoufl?’s Decodex (1995) or the expansive parades that flooded his opening ceremonies for the 1992 Winter Olympics in Albertville, France, were in for a letdown. Sombrero, which had its UK premiere at Sadler’s Wells last week, is little more than a random shuffle of video gimmickry.
What Decoufl? and his technical team have come up with is the use of multiple live cameras that layer front on to back, so that while you watch a performer with his or her back facing the audience you simultaneously see a frontal view superimposed on to the dancer. It’s intriguing for the first few times, but palls long before the show has run through its seemingly interminable 90 minutes.
The reason why Sombrero deteriorates so precipitously is that it is nothing but bits and bobs with no central spine. By about halfway through it starts to feel as if you’re watching your computer’s screen saver.
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There’s some theme about shadows – half of the cast garbed in black, mirroring the other half – and there is also a terminally fey narrative delivered from the sides of the stage, but they simply don’t add up to anything you want to hear, see, or more importantly, think about.
Despite a score that ranges from Brian Eno to Erik Satie and Ennio Morricone, momentum is lacking. The cast of seven, including the choreographer himself, do all they can to engage us, but it’s a losing battle.