Almost more performance art than dance, BULLYACHE presents a drunken mix of contemporary, ballroom, and Latin moves in a dystopian setting. With nods to Pina Bausch and Hofesh Shechter, and with cabaret turns and some songs, A Good Man is Hard to Find sometimes and, no doubt, deliberately struggles to cohere, especially towards the end when the five dancers change their clothes and take time to move the furniture.
But what furniture it is. A huge boardroom table dominates TOR Studio’s set design, its office windows smashed, and a thick layer of ash covers every inch of the stage. Reflected on the wall from the broken window are the first few letters of BULLYACHE, ironically suggesting the name of an investment banking firm. This is, quite literally, the financial crisis of 2008.
Or at least, its aftermath for BULLYACHE (Courtney Deyn and Jacob Samuel) has imagined what a Cremation of Care ceremony would be like after the crash. Each year since 1878, members of the elite Bohemian Club take part in a ritual to banish worldly cares and assuage their guilt. A Good Man is Hard to Find appears to take place on the headachy morning after.
One near-naked dancer slithers across the cinder-coated floor, putting on his suit in increments while another banker, a glass of whiskey in hand, watches his slovenly transformation. Another suit shuffles in, trousers around his ankles, as if he’s finally reached the end of his 24-hour bender. A blue-uniformed cleaner (Deyn) comes in to mop up the mess. It’s a fascinating start, helped by the fact that when the music eventually appears, its melodies are trapped, unable to soar.
There are only glimpses of dance in these early stages. One man half-spins as he turns another comatose figure in a swivel chair. Two dancers break out into a waltz; another salsas. But when they come together to dance under Bianca Peruzzi’s flashing lights, the effect is electrifying. However, these ensemble pieces are few and far between.
There is Ave Maria to be sung and a talent show, with audience participation, to be staged. Tarpaulin to be dragged in. A step ladder to be placed against the wall. Jackets to put on and take off. While these digressions ensure that the audience has something to watch, they intentionally break up the show, moving from spectacle to the mundane and back again.
The orgiastic end, with dancers pummelling like automatic drills to every violin strike of Shostakovich’s String Quartet No. 8 in C Minor op.110, outstays its welcome, and it’s a shame that the painting that BULLYACHE recreates is so small on the office wall.
Runs until 9 May 2026
