Positive Masculinity

At a time when the roots of toxic masculinity are still being hotly debated within society (I'd argue nature and nurture aren't necessarily mutually exclusive bedfellows) the excellent “Boys Don't Dance” arrives, fully formed at a festival for children, but with enough layers to appease any audience. Frankly, it could be the antidote to it all. Never mind recent discourse in schools around Andrew Tate and the ‘manosphere’ et. al, show some kids this and watch as jaws drop and developing little minds are blown.

Performance

Marc Brew Company: “Boys Don't Dance”

Place

Edinburgh International Children's Festival, Traverse Theatre, Edinburgh, Scotland, June 5, 2026

Words

Lorna Irvine

Ross Malloy and Piotr Iwanickl in “Boys Don't Dance” by Marc Brew. Photograph by Brian Hartley

Marc Brew's beautiful, ultimately heroic story is told with enormous sensitivity and is accessible enough for the kids, without ever alienating them. That it's not the easiest story to tell—how Brew was inspired to become one of the world's leading choreographers of a disabled dance company—is obvious, but the whole team keep a mixed-age group engaged throughout.

Two dancers, Glaswegian Ross Malloy and Polish Piotr Iwanickl, tell the story of the formative before and after moments in Brew's life. Malloy as the young Brew is the every kid in a small rural Australian town, itching to escape and learn to dance, until he's almost killed in a car accident. This particular scene is portrayed with heartbreaking economy, using haze and Iwanickl‘s spinning wheelchair wheels.

The boy, in early scenes occasionally interrupted by an unseen mother distributing snacks, who finds solace in emulating everyone from eighties pop icons in videos, to more sophisticated ballet forms, is undeterred by becoming wheelchair-bound, determined to prevail. And spoiler—he does, despite being judged at every turn, with wit and brio.

Australian tropes of rural life and macho masculinity (Paul Hogan chatting up Sheilas! Burly mulletted guys on the farm!) also play out on a television screen, mounted underneath a giant ramp. There are also—pleasingly—inflatable sheep which descend, a tad mockingly, from the gods.

Ross Malloy in “Boys Don't Dance” by Marc Brew. Photograph by Brian Hartley

This is a delicate reminder of settling into the norm, fitting in with peers, becoming what is expected. It's a classic small town story. But that option is too stultifying for a dreamer, a boy with raw talent and ambition.

Despite the nostalgia implicit within the eighties playlist, Brew fits the past within the present, with a sense of momentum and the idea that we're all very much works-in-progress, constantly improvising and refining ourselves.

The ramp itself doubles up as costume storage space and performance platform. Even this is an act of simple subversion, as ramps are generally associated with accessing transport or venues—here, the purpose is to amplify Brew's burning fascination with the stage, and by extension, the glamour of dance. So, the duo slide and glide ever upwards, totems of upward mobility, despite the odds.

Through vivid, gestural choreography, Brew's skill and resilience is shown with versatility. As Malloy flits between the machismo of Kevin Bacon's character Ren in Footloose, in vest and shorts, to operatic diva wearing a red chiffon dress, first as triumphant cosplay, then as shroud for sorrow, he's building identity, coming to terms with his sexuality. Iwanickl does more of the emotional heavy lifting, through fluttering hands and spinning in the wheelchair.

Ross Malloy and Piotr Iwanickl in “Boys Don't Dance” by Marc Brew. Photograph by Brian Hartley

Thanks to Drew Taylor-Wilson’s lucid dramaturgy and Jamie Wardrop’s earthy rural/neon splashed AV screen projections, we see the outsider status, playing out in loud and proud juxtaposition to typically bogan working class stereotypes. But Brew, tuning out the constant noise of bullies (represented on the screen projections by chattering, ominous crows who'd rather he conform) sees another way to live. Brew suggests dance is pure instinct: it's innate, it's a constant rhythm in the body, responding to heartbeats. And there’s a formative scene of going to the Theatre Royal for the first time, and realising he's not alone.

Brew's choreography is elegant, often acrobatic, electrifying and full of restless spirit. Pop video struts and spins soon give way to ballet’s first position. Malloy and Iwanickl form a duality of strength and resilience, their mirror work as extraordinary as the fusion of BMX bike tricks, where the two form one whole unit.

The saucer-eyed children, ever the hardest critics to convince, remain transfixed all through the one-hour running time. At the end, there are whoops and hollers from all of them. I know exactly how they feel. I'm even warming to Twisted Sister’s power pop anthem, “We’re Not Gonna Take It.” It's pretty cheesy, but within the context of the performance, it takes on added potency. Defy the expectations, Brew is saying, to any boy, or indeed anyone, out there feeling trapped. You can transcend the limitations of a small, humdrum environment, and, with time, take flight.

Lorna Irvine

Based in Glasgow, Lorna was delightfully corrupted by the work of Michael Clark in her early teens, and has never looked back. Passionate about dance, music, and theatre she writes regularly for the List, Across the Arts and Exeunt. She also wrote on dance, drama and whatever particular obsession she had that week for the Shimmy, the Skinny and TLG and has contributed to Mslexia, TYCI and the Vile Blog.

comments

Rachel Howard June 18, 2026

Enjoyed this vivid review very much, and as someone who followed Brew when he led Axis Dance Company out in California, it’s good to see what he’s up to!

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