If you don’t exit Hofesh Schechter’s new show, “Theatre of Dreams” feeling like you’ve really put in a shift, then my guess is you’re a professional dancer or some other form of highly tuned athlete. Mere mortals will depart drained but, I hope, rewarded.
You won’t have slept through it, that’s for sure. It’s a relentless 90 minutes (without interval) of boundless energy and raucous sound.
The house lights are still up when a man in a novelty blue suit, clambers up onto the stage to peer behind the curtains. The house lights go down. The curtains open, the man is no longer alone. Half a dozen people dance. Blackout.
This first section is a series of vignettes, cut into by sudden blackouts – sometimes through lighting, sometimes through the adroit opening and closing of a series of curtains, hanging in three (possibly more) sets, each further upstage than the one before. The blackouts are abrupt and brief, and when the lights come up or the curtain is pulled aside, it is as if we enter a new scene – new positionings of dancers, new phases of movement.
The electronic score (composed by Hofesh Schechter) is brutal and often assaultingly loud. There are times when this all verges on too much, or when there is a sense of a particular section going on too long. More than once, my senses tell me, “Okay, I want this to stop now. I need some stillness, some quiet.” But Schechter and his troupe do not let us off lightly. There is mercy, but not quite when we need it.
Upstage, a topless dancer boldly gyrates and departs. Soon after, a naked man strides downstage and stares us all in the eye. It takes some nerve but then, as my Mum would have said, “he’s a fine figure of a man!” (The obverse of this moment features later; a nervous bashful male nude, clutching his bits and running for cover).
Black gives way to red and then to white. The lighting contrasts are very pronounced. Six dancers become twelve, and the wonder of Schechter’s choreography begins to be revealed.
There is so much action and interplay, dancers rushing in and out of formations and partnerships, constant change and flux – in other words, every opportunity for collision and disaster and yet here, not a hint of it. The coordination and timing is breathtaking.
A man in a red suit steps forward and announces through an old-style standing microphone:
“Welcome to your theatre of dreams.” And there was I thinking we’d been in it for the previous 30 or so minutes.
A trio of musicians (Yaron Engler, Sabio Janiak and James Keane) now assume the bulk of the accompaniment (though techno-synth will still play its part). The red-clad trio in the corner (stage left) with dream-distorted lyrics swelling out into the auditorium, remind me of Dean Stockwell in David Lynch’s Blue Velvet.
We are in a dream, so echoes of our cultural memories are to be expected: a tableau reminiscent of “Bohemian Rhapsody”, dance moves referencing Jerome Robbins (West Side Story), Michael Peters (“Thriller”), a nod to Pina Bausch, a wink to Fosse/Verdon. All of this seeps in almost subliminally – expert homages.
The music switches to a bossa nova, and we are commanded to get to our feet (most do). Soon, the dancers are out into the stalls inviting us to dance with them. (The invitations are charming not intimidating). I plead my writer’s cramp, but a fellow critic (far more established and esteemed than I) is up and boogieing. Fair play to him.
Then, at long last, a moment of stillness. The dancers gather back on stage to sit at the feet of the three musicians, who now strike up a traditional-style middle-eastern melody. Dancers are not suited to long periods of sitting still. Soon, one of their number is on her feet, urging the others to follow. The melody expands in tone and the volume swells and we are into the most joyous and visually rewarding section of the evening. It’s tempting to describe it as tightly choreographed chaos but, of course, nothing this adept and precise could truly be chaotic or even spontaneous. One can only imagine the grind and sweat and dedication these dancers put into rehearsals. It was worth the effort. This is quite tremendous contemporary dance.
The energy spirals ever upwards and it feels like a finale but, of course, it is not.
The movement slows and settles. A sad and touching song, “I Remember” (written and sung by Molly Drake, arranged and performed by Neil Catchpole), has already featured and now returns.
“When I had thought that we were we,
But we were you and me.”
And on this pensive, slightly melancholy note, we are finally done.
Cue rapturous cheers and a standing ovation.
An evening not without its challenges, but, oh, the rewards!
Hofesh Shechter – Theatre of Dreams is at Lowry, Salford on 24 and 25 October 2025.