Third-class stamp

Pura Pasion | Peacock Theatre, London

Two questions you want me to answer. Would you enjoy Pura Pasion? If noise and energy are your kick, maybe, to judge from the wild applause at the press showing. Is it a good show? Certainly not, although there is one good 16-minute number in it.

Two questions you want me to answer. Would you enjoy Pura Pasion? If noise and energy are your kick, maybe, to judge from the wild applause at the press showing. Is it a good show? Certainly not, although there is one good 16-minute number in it.

Pure passion they call it, but pure it ain't; positively murky, in fact. And the passion is there only if scowling and stamping mean passion to you. This is a new company, and it is one of those which claim to show a way forward for the traditional Spanish gypsy art of flamenco into the new century. Unfortunately the means adopted for that are mediocre.

First, the music relies on amplification rather than soul; the band plays its not-so-traditional gypsy instruments of violin and flute into microphones, and the singers act likewise, which spoils the effect.

Next, the costumes by Narciso Rodriguez exploit contemporary fashion to sad effect. Those long skirts and ruffles on the women's dresses in past days, and the men's tight trousers and short jackets, were not just a fad; they actually brought out qualities in the dance. Anonymous knicker-flashing frocks, T-shirts and often unflattering trousers just don't have that quality. Thank heaven for the vogue of using dim lights and dark backgrounds.

As for the steps: when one number after another offers heavy formation stamping, it quickly grows tiresome. And the pseudo-ballet solo for Lola Grego is too silly to offer real relief, without being as funny as her later would-be Indian number (Hindu, the title says, but it might as well be Hiawatha). There is also a bull-fighting number that is positively ludicrous, especially when the bull uses his horns to stroke the toreadoress's bust.

Cristobal Reyes alone provides relief. Although the star of the show, he unfortunately does not hog the limelight. His one solo is left until almost the end. He is thickset, and visibly past his peak, but he still outshines everyone else. He keeps the pace mostly gentle, and his zapateado tapping is quieter than anyone else's, but also much more varied. He uses his arms gracefully, too, and snaps his fingers in subtle mimicry of castanets. While he is performing, we seem to be in a different, and much better, show.

I only hope someone, somewhere, is busy preserving the real old-fashioned flamenco style we used to see. Now that would be something worth showing in the 21st century, without needing to be modernised.

* Until 17 March (020-7863 8222)