Phantom Pains

Phantom Pains evades easy description. It's sometimes dance, but also mime, with elements of contortion and a hint of capoeira. At times it feels more like performance art. Moscow's Co. Theatre brings an ambitious venture in physical theatre to this year's Fringe, with mixed results.

On the surface, this is a simple exploration of love, pain, and reconciliation. But the combination of a beautifully haunting score, a sparsely set stage and the talent of the two actors results in the story not being told but rather conjured out of the atmosphere that is created. The audience is taken right into the heart of a turbulent relationship.

This piece also manages to evoke more than what is emotionally immediate. Particularly well-construed and executed are the parts when the dancers perform together, with visceral sensuality and technical ingenuity, pushing ideas of the self and otherness to physical and conceptual extremes. Their energy is startling as they wrestle, writhe and arabesque their way through alternating scenes of tranquility and violent intensity. One moment the dancers are serene and delicate as Bollywood darlings, the next twisted and tumbling, flinging themselves at the floor.

But such energy and obscurity requires a great deal of momentum to carry this piece through. With no real sense of a linear narrative, each fragment needs to be compelling with its own artful inertia. Mostly it works and is captivating, but at those moments when the spell breaks, it's all a bit unsettling.