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Intimacy on the Knife-edge

Crystal Pite is a connoisseur of the ensemble, with a forte for spotlighting the humanity of the collective, from the tight-knit flock to the anonymised mass. Over the years, I’ve watched her give attentive, stunning shape to packs of bodies, flocks of bodies, wild, rippling tides of bodies, all marshalled to stirring effect. Aesthetic, technique and emotion collapse into one.

Performance

English National Ballet: “Body and Soul (Part 1)” by Crystal Pite / “Proper Conduct” by Kameron N. Saunders

Place

Sadler’s Wells, London, UK, March 20, 2026

Words

Sara Veale

Anna Cirano and English National Ballet in “Body and Soul (Part 1)” by Crystal Pite. Photograph by ASH

In “Body and Soul (Part 1),” resistance and dissent darken the air. Pite created the ballet in 2019 for the Paris Opera Ballet as the first instalment in a trilogy. Dark suits suggest capitalist homogeny. A breathy narration in French issues simple commands: left, right, left, right, neck, mouth, hip. Two men grasp at each other, their interaction turning combative. Another three dozen dancers join them, flooding the stage, heads twitching and backs hunched, heaving in menacing unison. Over half an hour, across many different configurations, they channel suggestions of malice, rapture, conquest and grief. 

Couples reject the fray for private tussles that go to rousing, unexpected places. I’m reminded of how a student of Martha Graham once described her mentor’s work: “It wasn’t cool, it was hot . . . like a knife cutting each time.” Every interaction here is sliced through with feeling: arms outstretched then fiercely retracted, heads wrenched towards chests. Intimacy on the knife-edge of violence, intensified by frantic whispering in the voiceover. We know Pite to be an extraordinary choreographer, but with so many companies now in receipt of her work—from the Royal Ballet to English National Ballet, here taking their first run at it—it’s clear she’s equally talented at getting performers to inhabit the nuances of her compositions. When ENB’s dancers shrug their blazers off, for example, it doesn’t signal relaxation but deficit, a tiny but perceptible distinction.

Tension breaks momentarily as Alice Bellini and Lorenzo Trossello lose themselves in a smooth, silky swell of partnering with all of the tautness of previous duets but none of the fury. A mournful piano kicks in, and we’re beckoned into their haven.

Swanice Luong and Minju Kang in Kameron N. Saunders’s “Proper Conduct.” Photograph by ASH

Swanice Luong and Minju Kang in Kameron N. Saunders’s “Proper Conduct.” Photograph by ASH

As the cast radiate these tender moments outwards, hearts laid bare, I feel something stir in my own chest—a reciprocity that illuminates my aggravation with the companion piece on this bill, a new commission from Kameron N. Saunders, known for his work in American pop and film spheres. “Proper Conduct,” Saunders’s first full-length piece on a ballet company, persistently keeps the audience at arm’s length. It’s also woolly in its storytelling and seems desperate to goad, shortcomings that its dynamic orchestral score and genre-defying dancing, while presented with flair, can’t salvage. 

A growling Jigsaw-style voiceover frames the sunny opening section as something of a taunt. “Are you comfortable? Joyous?” it sneers, making it clear we should be neither. The dancing that follows is a cheerful group romp with flying pigtails and rainbow lighting. There are echoes of Justin Peck in this twee, darting display, which a 16-strong ensemble handle spryly, especially its syncopations, though it’s hard to bask in their brightness, as it’s so evidently being set up for an about-face. 

Enter Jose María Lorca Menchón as Jigsaw in a predictable intrusion smugly presented as shocking. Dressed somewhere between a clown and a competitive fencer, he’s here to deliver an indictment of . . . sex? “Beneath lies the rot” and “sickness hiding in plain sight” are two phrases he mutters as the cast strip to their underwear and writhe. There’s prowling and heavy breathing. One dancer mounts another like a horse. (And I thought Wuthering Heights was the only place I’d see ponyplay this spring!) Coupled with regular censures of “you” (us, I guess), the long spells of jiggling asses pointed at the audience start to seem contemptuous. Headlights are sporadically flipped outwards to blind us, which feels like a more explicit fuck-you. 

English National Ballet in Kameron N. Saunders’s “Proper Conduct.” Photograph by ASH

English National Ballet in Kameron N. Saunders’s “Proper Conduct.” Photograph by ASH

“Don’t you see?!” Another interlude from Jigsaw. Well, no, I can’t; the glare in my face is literally making that impossible. My vision recovers in time to watch him do an almost middle split, then a very slow somersault and then the worm. “Join us!” he barks, which is confusing because I thought we were the enemy. Menchón, for his part, sports a game smirk as he tackles his character’s head-bobbing, torso-twisting countenance. 

At least he has a consistent role to sink into. His castmates, already forced to pivot from Kumbaya optimism to crotch-pumping debauchery, are tasked with another stylistic U-turn for the parading space-age finale, which appears to both venerate and criticise an unspecified “higher-class order” (tyranny? Big Tech? the tyranny of Big Tech?). With dancers dropping their extensions early and fumbling certain formations, this section looks under-rehearsed, or maybe they just didn’t have it in them to go all out for its nebulous manifesto. “Only we can keep you safe,” insists Jigsaw as they march around like stormtroopers. “Progress is not progress, only poison,” he adds, satisfied with this non sequitur. These ramblings cement the impression of a work more interested in appearing provocative than actually provoking any ideas of substance. 

Sara Veale


Sara Veale is a London-based writer and editor. She's a member of the UK Dance Critics' Circle and has written about dance for the Observer, the Spectator, Harper's Bazaar, Auditorium, Gramophone and more. Her book, Wild Grace: The Untamed Women of Modern Dance, was published by Faber in 2025.

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