Carlos Acosta: A Celebration, Royal Albert Hall, review: An uneven group of dances

The venue makes for a barn-like space that's awkward for theatre dance

Carlos Acosta in Rooster by Christopher Bruce, as part of Carlos Acosta: A Celebration at the Royal Albert Hall. (Acirc, Tristram Kenton)

Carlos Acosta is very much loved, but sometimes he tries the patience. This celebration programme shows off the star’s warmth and charisma, but also drags an uneven group of dances, from Christopher Bruce’s Rolling Stones ballet Rooster to Acosta’s own unfortunate Carmen, into the barn-like space of the Royal Albert Hall. It’s a frustrating evening.

A Celebration marks the 30 years of Acosta’s dance career. Born and trained in Cuba, he went from poverty to international dance stardom – a journey that will appear in the forthcoming biopic Yuli. Though Acosta retired from ballet in 2015, he still dances, particularly with his own Cuban-based company Acosta Danza. It can feel as though he’s making a long succession of farewell performances, but there’s an appealing generosity to his gala formats: enough of Carlos to satisfy his fans, while bringing the young dancers of his company into the spotlight.

Acosta Danza give gutsy, committed performances in A Celebration, but they’re up against their repertory and against the Royal Albert Hall, an awkward venue for theatre dance. With no proscenium arch over the stage, there’s little to focus the huge space, while the concert hall layout makes for some terrible sightlines. From the arena, you can only see the dancers from the knees up. When anyone drops to the floor, as they frequently do in these contemporary works, they vanish completely for a whole section of the audience.

Acosta and Marta Ortega are slinky and conflicted in “Mermaid”, Sidi Larbi Cherkaoui’s duet for a tipsy woman and her supportive but baffled partner. Goyo Montero’s “Alrededor no hay nada” brings on the full company, moving through tight patterns to a soundtrack of poetry. Montero’s choreography is full of lines and angled groups: a man undulating at the feet of a line of women, dancers bending and folding into patterns.

Rooster gives the whole evening a boost. Danced to a selection of Rolling Stones songs, it evokes the choreographer’s own youth, with peacocking young men and wry women. Acosta’s jumps and spins are still sharp and clean, his stage presence as impressive as ever. The company’s dancing is crisp and lively, their jokes cheerfully broad. They don’t quite get Bruce’s sense of affectionate self-mockery, the mix of swagger and insecurity in the men’s posturing.

Acosta’s Carmen, created for The Royal Ballet, has been slightly revised but is still a bundle of cliches, from the bull-horned figure of fate to the endless, sub-MacMillan duets. The storytelling is confused, with weak characterisation. Laura Rodriguez brings seductive force to Carmen’s stock poses, while Acosta struts with assurance as the Toreador.