Here solo Caliban steps forward, sturdy, curious, young and handsome. His relationship with Miranda is conveyed in a tense duet that starts out confrontational and morphs into something sensual. The pair hold wary, intense eye contact as they swap places on a chair; they grip hands and tug in opposition until they fall backwards. Hands wander to graze cheeks and lower backs. A facedown drop prompts a horizontal clinch with an erotic, slow-burning recovery. Their erotic back-and-forth supplants the play’s intimations of rape and corruption with a roiling wave of mutual desire. Still, here arrives a displeased Prospero (Harry Ondrak-Wright). Cue a soundscape of colonial writings emphasising the “natural” moral superiority of Europeans over “natives” as Prospero swiftly contrives to marry Miranda off to a political rival from Milan. 

The dancing moves in sync with the storytelling: pleasing and well-marshalled, with the ensemble deftly toggling between different registers to represent Group Caliban pre- and post-Prospero. Latter incarnations bring some depth to Prospero, who wields a stick as he connives how best to consolidate his power, part sorcerer, part coloniser. The ensemble also step in as background actors to the Milanese court, diving and clambering in a sprightly show of political ladder-climbing. The production doesn’t fully plumb the interesting questions it poses, but the impressionistic tack works well to create a flowing, streamlined hour of dance.

The closing scene centres a duet between Reinoso Acanda and Tanisha Addicott—a silky, languid interlocking of bodies. While it doesn’t quite sync with the stated vision of “a new and fractured landscape,” the liquid extensions and interesting floorwork here are resonant. A tranquil and intriguing final note.