Jealousy - review

3 / 5 stars
The Print Room, London

Most literary adaptations set choreographers the tough challenge of reducing a complex story to a danceable structure, but with Jealousy there's no such problem. Alain Robbe-Grillet's 1957 novel is all structure and very little narrative. A repetitive sequence of observations, written from the viewpoint of a man suspecting his wife of adultery, the point of the novel lies in the hard, detailed brilliance of its style: its experimental format and its accumulating atmosphere of claustrophobia.

As a literary source it's a fascinating gift to choreographers, and the four joint creators of Jealousy – James Cousins, Hubert Essakow, Daniel Hay-Gordon and Morgann Runacre-Temple – tackle it with enormous verve. The enclosing set, designed by artist Laurence Kavanagh, evokes both the geometry of the novel's structure and its theme of voyeurism. Two identical segments of space, delineated by a door and venetian blind, allow the dancers to mirror and spy on each other. For the audience, seated around the stage, there's a constant shifting of intimacy and sightline as the action moves.

The husband prowls centre stage – his face impassive, but his body reeling and reacting in jealous coils of movement. Surrounding him are not one but three couples, and their dancing keeps revisiting the same moments: ambiguous, staccato gestures of passion and full-bodied, tumbling lifts.

With a soundtrack of romantic French music raked over by blips of electronic noise, the world of the novel is vividly present. Yet some of the work's best moments, such as the fiercely impassioned unison ensemble, are those that leave Robbe-Grillet furthest behind. For a 60-minute piece there just aren't enough of them.

Jealousy is perhaps too in thrall to its inspiration. But that doesn't detract from it being a stylish, clever experiment. Taking place in a new venue for dance, the Print Room, Jealousy feels like that rare thing – a genuinely pioneering venture.