All the Time in the World – Sadler’s Wells, London

Choreographer: Eleesha Drennan

How does one normally judge a dance performance? Strength and flexibility, some flashy impossible-seeming choreography? Maybe some fierce costume design or some artful lighting? Well, the best part of All the Time in the World has none of that, and yet it is near perfect in its execution.

A lot is squeezed in to this three-part production. Eleesha Drennan’s own performance, Whiskers 2, for example, is an expression of ‘what it means to be a woman’; a bold premise indeed. Laying within a circle of fossils, she initially seems to give over to an external control, her limbs moving as if under water. As she finally gains autonomy over her body, she is fierce and confused, eventually progressing towards a visceral inner calm. Drennan is a beautiful dancer, and there are some very powerful moments, but they are somewhat diluted by the obvious desire to be taken very very seriously. The fossils, picked up and put down with so much intensity, are never really explained, and it might be more affective if they weren’t there.

Following Drennan is the main chunk of the evening, Infinite Glimpse, a four-hander choreographed by Drennan about the ‘distorted perceptions of time’ in grief. First slowly replacing the aforementioned circle of fossils with a circle of hourglasses (Couldn’t they have saved a few minutes and done this swiftly in the dark?) the cast hum ‘happy birthday’ ominously as they take it in turns to be presented with a birthday cake. There’s a lot of humour and pathos in this piece, the dancers navigating deftly between feelings of absurdity and despair. It is awfully long though, and at some point, the once clear narrative fogs up and leaves the audience watching what feels like a foreign language film with no subtitles: the dancers are so clearly trying to convey something, but what? As with the bones in Whiskers 2, the hourglasses also seem a bit unnecessary, the aggressive ticking soundtrack an obvious enough nod at the passing of time.

But the hit of the evening is the opening act, Relive. Performed by the Sadler’s Wells’ Company of Elders, there is an abundance of joy and poignancy as the dancers come together and glide apart in turns, dancing together and alone, in one big group and in partners. Perhaps there’s a lack of technical brilliance, a sense of amateur enthusiasm and gusto over accuracy, dancers conspicuously looking around to see what they should be doing. And it’s all the better for it, expressing the ecstasy of simply moving your body to the music; clearly everyone is having the very best time.

It’s a shame the Company of Elders didn’t make a second appearance at the end of the show because they set a tone of exuberant irreverence, and after them everything gets a bit serious and proper.

Runs until 1 April 2022