ALiCE

Sadler’s Wells Theatre

★★★★

“The thrill is in the spectacle and the sheer acrobatic virtuosity of the dancers”

We first see the eponymous heroine, in Jasmin Vardimon’s dance interpretation of Lewis Carroll’s nineteenth century classic children’s novel, as a chalk animation shifting across the page of a giant book. As it reaches the edge of the page, the real-life version (Liudmila Loglisci) peeps out in wonder and trepidation before taking her first balletic steps onto the stage – or, rather, into the rabbit hole. You can understand her reticence; there is a whirlwind of activity. It appears chaotic and surreal but there is a precision to the ensemble’s movement that is a hallmark of Jasmin Vardimon MBE’s acrobatic and intense choreography.

The pages of the giant book (courtesy of Guy Bar-Amotz’ – along with Vardimon herself – inventive, slightly shabby-chic design) slowly turn, sometimes engulfing Alice, sometimes hurling her into the action. The show is split into six chapters, each representing a sequence from Carroll’s fiction, and each being a formative rite of passage for the malleable young girl. The overriding theme is that of change, particularly focusing on Alice seeking her own identity as she hits adolescence with brute force. It is an ingenious device that superimposes the fantastical elements and characters of the original story onto a very modern tale of coping with today’s socio-political minefield. Barely a word is spoken. Our understanding of the concept relies entirely on the staging, which falls into the category of physical theatre rather than dance for most of the time. It is a visual feast, accompanied by an eclectic choice of soundtrack ranging from Vivaldi to Ryuichi Sakamoto, a touch of Bach, and scratch DJ Kid Koala, among many others.

It is a touch confusing, but then that reflects the bewildering and disconcerting changes our protagonist has to go through, and how it all affects her identity. Multiple pairs of arms reach out from behind doorways, along with shadow puppet hands that paw at the evolving Alice. One of quite a few references to a predatory world, and the unwanted male attention. The message is muddied further: a part of Alice seems to enjoy this while another part is repelled. Uncertain as to which direction to turn, Alice splits into seven copies of herself as the cast dance in unison to Smokie’s much parodied, seventies hit ‘Living Next Door to Alice’.

These welcome moments of light comedy puncture the over-surreal whimsical commentary, and Vardimon works the humour into the piece with ease, so that scenes that depict physical abuse or domestic violence give way to the pleasures that can be derived from turning into an adult. Imagery and metaphor give us the inner workings of Alice’s mind while striking visual projections and scenery create the world she has stumbled into. The Cheshire Cat, a vaping caterpillar, the Mad Hatter, the Queen of Hearts, are all there. Even Tweedledum and Tweedledee make an appearance, wandering from ‘Through the Looking-Glass’ into this wonderland of dance and music.

There is little emotional connection. The thrill is in the spectacle and the sheer acrobatic virtuosity of the dancers. It is often impossible to believe there are only seven in the cast. There are elements of the work of Aurélia Thiérrée, or the acclaimed performance company ‘1927’. However, comparisons do Vardimon an injustice. She is in a world – and a class – of her own, combining theatre and dance in a unique way to tell the story. Not only do we see the ways in which the world she enters changes Alice, but Vardimon also shows the ways in which the world reacts to her metamorphosis. Beautifully dreamlike and unusual, marred slightly by the jarring, yet fleeting, use of literal placards drawing focus on the issues of immigration. The message would be better served among the many others that are subtly woven into the fabric of the piece.

As Alice steps back into her two-dimensional form in the pages of the book, we come full circle. We are not sure whether Alice has escaped Wonderland unchanged or awakened. A twist in the fate of the hookah-smoking (vaping in this scenario) caterpillar gives us a clue. Clues are all we seem to get in Vardimon’s interpretation of Alice in Wonderland. But we have a wonderful time not solving them. Alice couldn’t explain herself “because I am not myself, you see”. This is a show that can be watched, without being explained, simply due to the astonishing choreography performed by masters of their craft.

ALiCE

Sadler’s Wells Theatre

Reviewed on 23rd May 2025

by Jonathan Evans

Photography by Tristram Kenton

Last ten shows reviewed at Sadler’s Wells venues:

BAT OUT OF HELL THE MUSICAL | ★★★★ | May 2025

SPECKY CLARK | ★★★ | May 2025

SNOW WHITE: THE SACRIFICE | ★★★★★ | April 2025

SKATEPARK | ★★★★ | April 2025

MIDNIGHT DANCER | ★★★★ | March 2025

THE DREAM | ★★★★★ | March 2025

DEEPSTARIA | ★★★★ | February 2025

VOLLMOND | ★★★★★ | February 2025

DIMANCHE | ★★★★ | January 2025

SONGS OF THE WAYFARER | ★★★★ | December 2024

ALiCE

★★★

“It is certainly a story that must be told”

The cruel irony of Timberlake Wertenbaker’s play “Little Brother”, adapted from the Guinean writer, Ibrahima Balde’s memoir, is that Ibrahima was initially denied a visa by the Home Office to visit the United Kingdom so he could attend the opening night. They were “not satisfied… that you intend to leave the UK at the end of your visit”. Fortunately, the decision has now been reversed, yet Wertenbaker poignantly inserted the statement of facts into the epilogue, neatly and affectingly rounding off the true-life story of the horrors of migration.

Ibrahima Balde’s story charts his journey across borders, deserts and seas from Guinea to mainland Europe on his quest to find his younger brother. In 2018, towards the end of his odyssey, he met writer and journalist Amets Arzallus Antia in the Basque country that borders France and Spain, and there the search for his brother turned into a ten-month search for the words that would convey his experiences. “My friend, life is not that easy to tell” Ibrahima said to Amets during their first encounter. Knowing that his tale is only one of countless others the world over makes it uneasy listening too.

This adaptation is a stark retelling of the facts. It avoids both sentimentality and lecturing. As a result, however, it lacks the emotional build up needed to fully bring home the horrors of the situation. It is only late in the day, when we feel that Ibrahima’s life is on the line, that we become fully invested in his plight. Only then does Blair Gyabaah (who plays Ibrahima – alongside a supporting cast of four who multi-role as the dozens of other characters) realise the dynamics and breadth of emotion needed to lift the account from narration into a drama. For the most part we are spoon fed the details in a journalistic fashion.

But what a journal it is. We get a fair bit of his background, growing up in a village in the West African country of Guinea, helping his father sell shoes at a street stall while dreaming of becoming a truck driver. Even from a young age, he always felt alone and far away from home, a state of mind heightened by the sudden death of his father. When his younger brother, Alhassane, disappears heading for Europe, Ibrahima leaves everything behind to try to find him and bring him back, risking his own life on his epic journey. We are shown the different customs, languages, landscapes and challenges. But each chapter is a stepping stone, and as we move on quickly to the next, we barely have time to get to know the other characters he meets along the way. The spectrum of life – the chasm between the best and the worst of humanity – gets flattened under the multitude of personalities that appear onstage, for sometimes just seconds at a time.

Gyabaah’s Ibrahima is the anchor; a modest performance, yet strong and holding up against the whirlwind of events. It seems at times that the actor is fighting Stella Powell-Jones’ directorial constraints as much as the cruel twists of fate his character endures, and we get the sense Gyabaah is aching to emote more. At the same time, though, we are left wondering if this is a deliberate ploy, to strip it of sensationalism, in a bid to convey how ubiquitous the struggles of migration are. This show doesn’t overwhelm us, but it does lift a veil to reveal the face of the seemingly nameless people we hear about in the news. In its own way “Little Brother” is a ‘must see’ show. It is certainly a story that must be told. In the closing moments, Ibrahima’s father appears as a ghost to tell him “Son, you must never think you’re the worst off… and you can never say, ‘I’m suffering more than anyone else’”. It takes a while to get there, but finally the heart and soul of the story achieves its poignancy. We learn second hand of the plight of his brother, but the strength of that blood bond that motivates Ibrahima throughout is delivered to us, first hand, with a powerful punch.

ALiCE

Sadler’s Wells Theatre

★★★★

“The thrill is in the spectacle and the sheer acrobatic virtuosity of the dancers”

ALiCE

Sadler’s Wells Theatre

Reviewed on 23rd May 2025

by Jonathan Evans

Photography by Tristram Kenton

Last ten shows reviewed at Sadler’s Wells venues:

ALiCE

ALiCE

ALiCE

LITTLE BROTHER

Jermyn Street Theatre

★★★

“It is certainly a story that must be told”

LITTLE BROTHER

Jermyn Street Theatre

Reviewed on 21st May 2025

by Jonathan Evans

Photography by Steve Gregson

Last ten shows reviewed at this venue:

Little Brother

Little Brother

Little Brother

JOIN US