By BERNADETTE RAE
Since when did a gang of medieval street people take so much time out from their fighting, mead-swilling and rude couplings to point their toes? There seems to be an abundance of arabesques and other formalities in Michael Pink's choreography of this Hunchback of Notre Dame, or at
least step-making, which is intrusive.
The effect is especially strange as Pink's great claim is to strip away all curlicues and bits of dance just for dance's sake and to make every movement vital to "The Story".
Perhaps this story, so raw and cruel and full of violent lust and ghastly vengeance is just too difficult to tell perfectly in point shoes?
But if it wavers a little in the broad stroke, there are vignettes of compelling drama and dance combined, which stop the heart.
Graham Fletcher's vile priest, Frollo, is a standout, with his snakelike writhing after Esmeralda.
Jane Turner does everything perfectly and her Fleur de Lys in jealous and slighted mode is believable to an extreme.
Then there is Quasimodo. Behind the face-distorting makeup and the dental artifice on opening night, Toby Behan hit the right note of a childlike and basically good person caught in strong, powerful and ugly physical form.
His comic delight at Esmeralda's compassionate kiss is gorgeous. His agonised choice between flawed father figure and gypsy angel is a palpable process. His ultimate grief is complete.
Larissa Wright, as the innocent, but fatefully and sexually alluring Esmeralda, has the most complex portrait to paint. The innocence, the beauty and the sensitivity are all there, but could a gymnastic ribcage alone incite such torrid desire?
Surely Esmeralda, a professional dancer with gypsy blood throbbing in her veins, was aware of her pelvis.
Les Brotherston's sets are superb. Philip Feeney composed the score, which is full of surprises, including distinctly rude digestive noises and a mysterious choir.
