The Judgment of Paris
It's difficult to frame an evening of exceptional enjoyment in worthy terms, so to say that it is a challenge to find any basis on which to criticise The Judgment of Paris, though not a phrase that trips off the tongue, may have to do.
The show doesn't instantly recommend itself as such. Austin McCormick's Company XIV trades in the baroque style of ballet enjoyed at the court of the Sun King, adapted with modern dance influences and performed as a pastiche of 19th century French cabaret. It should be a shambles.
It almost is. The action is riotous; the sex appeal gets all over everything, and I don't imagine it washes out. The performers scream, laugh and blow kisses at will, alternately flirting with and berating audience members. Seth Numrich invokes Jack Sparrow in bringing to life his immensely enjoyable compère. It's a hell of a lot of fun.
Despite itself, the show is serious art, too. Choreography often inspires admiration, but only the best engenders emotion; Numrich and Samantha Ernst's deeply moving sequences as Paris and Helen do just that. The scripting is pitched faultlessly throughout, giving just enough to breathe new life into the classic of western literature. Drawing creatively from past adaptations, McCormick creates a narrative that offers new insight into the portrayal of Helen and the feminine character.
Matthew Bourne's Dorian Gray will justly take the plaudits for physical theatre at this year's festivals; The Judgment of Paris deserves to be recognised in the same bracket.