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THE RITE OF SPRING / MIRROR

★★★★

Sadler’s Wells East

THE RITE OF SPRING / MIRROR

Sadler’s Wells East

★★★★

“a thrilling fusion of disciplines”

The world premiere of Alexander Whitley’s ‘The Rite of Spring / Mirror’ is fierce, confronting and visually arresting. Using real-time generative AI and motion capture technology, this double bill stunningly interrogates AI’s accelerating influence and our ability to keep up.

We open with ‘Mirror’, inspired by Shannon Vallor’s book “The AI Mirror”, illuminating the distortions AI throws back at us. Charting the shifting relationship between two humans and an increasingly intelligent machine, it’s a vivid study of how AI stands to reshape the world around us.

Whitley’s collaboration with creative technologist, Luca Biada, seamlessly fuses dance and technology, creating a series of sharp, unsettling observations. Whitley’s choreography is exhilarating, opening with the full force and beauty of unenhanced humanity. But AI suddenly intrudes – without warning, the dancers are tracked in real time before ghostly avatars emerge from the darkness. With dramaturgy by Sasha Milavic Davies and technical direction from Dom Martin, the interplay between dance and technology expertly reveals the power shift from human to machine, and before long a far darker, more distorted world emerges.

Dancers Gabriel Ciulli and Daisy Dancer deliver the sequences with thrilling precision, holding the audience rapt with their control, power and impossibly clean lines. They also draw out the emotional undercurrent with real clarity, shifting effortlessly between trepidation, playfulness and fear. Set to a gripping abstract score by Galya Bisengalieva – sometimes expansive, sometimes frenetic – the work melds music and movement into an utterly cohesive whole.

Mirella Weingarten’s set design is relatively simple, with a ring of seven poles hosting the all-seeing infrared cameras, providing a striking frame for Biada’s generative AI spectacle. Weingarten’s inverted monochrome unitards, speckled with motion capture dots, cut cleanly against the AI visual riot. Joshie Harriette’s lighting design, with associate Sarah Danielle Martin, extends the visual tension, shifting from stark geometric patterns to swirling galactic chaos. The sound design packs a punch, increasing the tension with some aggressively loud sections.

And then comes ‘The Rite of Spring’, an expansive, cinematic reimagining of Stravinsky’s avant garde ballet. Whitley’s interpretation trades ancient pagan gods for all powerful AI, re-examining human sacrifice through a contemporary lens and pressing us to question how much has really changed.

Whitley and Biada once again fuse technology and dance, using motion capture to turn five performers into a mesmeric, shape shifting multitude. Circles dominate the choreography and AI imagery, generating a hypnotic wormhole of endless cycles. The climactic scene erupts in an epic, incendiary self-sacrifice, though visual spectacle perhaps eclipses choreographic craft in places. This time, technology reads more as translation than interrogation, making me wonder if the two works might land more impactfully in the opposite order.

Ciulli and Dancer are joined by Nafisah Baba, Natnael Dawit and Elaini Lalousis, who channel a fierce, primal energy, moving as though seized by the very force driving the piece. Stravinsky’s iconic score blazes in all its discordant glory. Oppressive, driving, and primal, it keeps the whole piece on edge.

Weingarten’s ring of cameras sprouts ropes, sprawling like a giant neurone before ensnaring their next victim. The earthier costumes contain ominous hints, such as bloodstains tracing the dancers’ spines. Harriette and Martin’s lighting becomes increasingly infernal, further charged with searching red spots lights.

‘The Rite of Spring / Mirror’ is a thrilling fusion of disciplines, raising urgent existential questions for a society on the brink of AI revolution. Though ‘Mirror’ feels more resonant, both works are stunning blends of dance and AI that will quite literally never be the same twice. Catch them while you can!



THE RITE OF SPRING / MIRROR

Sadler’s Wells East

Reviewed on 18th March 2026

by Hannah Bothelton

Photography by Oskein


 

 

 

 

THE RITE OF SPRING

THE RITE OF SPRING

THE RITE OF SPRING

GLORIOUS!

★★★

UK Tour

GLORIOUS!

Theatre Royal Windsor

★★★

“a very watchable, and funny, portrait of a very eccentric woman”

The American socialite, Florence Foster Jenkins, who was widely mocked for her poor singing ability once famously remarked that “people may say I can’t sing… but no one can ever say I didn’t sing”. It throws into question just how aware she was of her considerable vocally deficiencies. Was she in on the joke, or did she honestly believe that she had talent? To some extent, Peter Quilter’s stage comedy “Glorious!” addresses the dilemma. It treats its subject very much as a joke – especially in the first act – but also gives us a glimpse of the complex personal history behind an eccentric who is merely trying to live her dream. The latter may come a little too late, and the former overdramatised and outstretched. The jokes – at Jenkins’ expense – are relentless and repetitive, and consequently our belief in the extent of her self-delusion is undermined.

It is 1944 and Florence Foster Jenkins (Wendi Peters) is recruiting a new accompanist, having dismissed her original one after catching him giving her audience a ‘knowing smile’ during a performance. In walks Cosmé McMoon (Matthew James Morrison) who rather swiftly discovers what he is letting himself in for, but takes the job anyway. A lifelong alliance ensues which is eventually portrayed by the pair as a touching tribute to the human spirit. Morrison is a striking presence and a talented pianist who finds the perfect balance between humouring Jenkins and showing unwavering support and loyalty. We get that McMoon is not just in it for the money, of which Jenkins has plenty, inherited from her father. Also inherited was her fierce determination – a direct and perverse reaction to her father’s dismissal of her ambitions by refusing to fund her musical education. The loss of her sister at the tender age of eight also had profound effects on shaping her personality. These facts are glossed over somewhat, as is her first marriage and her subsequent relationship with the actor St. Clair Bayfield.

But, to be fair, that is not the ambition of the play. Quilter is unashamedly playing for laughs. And Peters and Morrison certainly deliver. Peters channels Hyacinth Bucket from ‘Keeping up Appearances’, with a faultless American accent – and more faultless is her ability to sing extremely badly. One needs to be a virtuosic vocalist to be able to get it so wrong so convincingly. It is a bold performance, complete with outrageous costumes courtesy of Ingrid Hu. Morrison has more to play with and stands out as the sympathetic piano-player, breaking out of character to address the audience directly, at times, with some much-needed exposition.

To complement what is inherently a two hander are Sioned Jones as friend and side-kick Dorothy, and Caroline Gruber’s Italian maid, Maria. “I’m sure she’s Italian just to annoy me” quips Jenkins with shades of ‘Fawlty Towers’ creeping into the script. Gruber also doubles as the uptight Mrs Verrinder Gedge who storms the stage during one of Jenkins’ recitals to deliver the truth – in true ‘Emperor’s New Clothes’ fashion. But the show ultimately belongs to Peters and Morrison, and we certainly feel the bond between the two. Director Kirk Jameson seems to take a while to find the true heart of the piece. Act One is very much a one-trick wonder that relies on slapstick rather than character; and we only really start warming to the couple in the second half. The gentler moments are quite touching, especially when Peters demonstrates moments of self-doubt that her peers rarely – if ever – saw. The comedy also works better the more subtly it is delivered. McMoon’s closet homosexuality is nearly blown by Jenkins during some cleverly constructed and unpredictable dialogue.

We do take particular pleasure from hearing Mozart’s ‘The Magic Flute’, for example, or Bizet’s ‘Carmen’ being well and truly murdered. Even if it does wear a bit thin. We are rewarded with a quite stunning finale that gives us a delicious taste of Wendi Peters’ true talents. What we hear in our head or in our heart is not always what is heard by those that surround us. Jenkins died shortly after her ill-fated public performance at Carnegie Hall. We may never really know how aware she was of others’ perception. “Glorious!” doesn’t attempt to shed more light on the quandary, but it is a very watchable, and funny, portrait of a very eccentric woman. Thankfully it hits many more right notes than its subject.



GLORIOUS!

Theatre Royal Windsor then UK Tour continues

Reviewed on 17th March 2026

by Jonathan Evans

Photography by Chris Davis


 

 

 

 

GLORIOUS!

GLORIOUS!

GLORIOUS!