Harlekin

Works of art are often described as inspired; Harlekin, the latest offering from legendary dance/physical theatre troupe Derevo, makes you think about the true meaning of the word. You gawp for 80 minutes at this stupendous feat of the imagination, and the wordless skill of the three performers who bring it to life.

Anton Adasinsky is mesmerising as the Harlekin, the part he says he was born to play. He invests this pale, emaciated cousin of the familiar diamond-checked harlequin with a heartbreaking pathos, and sometimes a ghoulish sense of humour. His character starts the show as a puppet, and Adasinsky's movement as he mimics a puppet's—bobbing limbs, hands jerking in front of him—seems so effortless it can only be the product of truly prodigious talent.

The show is a sequence of strange, arresting set-pieces which would be disorientating without the Harlekin himself. The weary innocence with which he greets every strange new situation is the play's one constant note. The pivotal moment is his hopeless infatuation with Elena Iarovaia's cold-hearted Columbine, who spurns the gifts he makes for her. The last of them is his heart, represented by a red pepper while Adasinsky clutches red cloth to his chest for blood.

Harlekin is full of these dreamlike sequences. Adasinsky as the winding key of a music box, grimacing as he gyrates with a huge wooden bar on his shoulders; Iarovaia dressed in black, almost invisible except for the red silks she wreathes around her in the stage smoke. These moments of hallucinatory beauty make Harlekin an unforgettable experience.