A successful piece of genre-busting theatre that creatively fuses different (very different) dance and musical styles to re-enact the story, neatly summarized in the program as follows:
Bear meets girl. Girl elopes with bear. Bear is actually a man. [Phew! Eds] Girl loves him, girl loses him, girl travels across the world for him. Girl wins back bear?

We are told that this is a Scandinavian folk tale – I would guess not of very ancient provenance since it combines familiar elements from various other tales, most notably Beauty and the Beast, various versions of The Patient Wife, and Cupid and Psyche. The first half is lightened with sprinkles of unexpected humour, the second is much darker.

 There is a certain amount of spoken word, but most of the action is portrayed by some quite exquisite dancing. The character of the heroine, Fayra, was played by Anja Meinhardt, who was simply wonderful, effortlessly combining athleticism and grace, and with a beautiful, expressive face. This was an exceptionally demanding role as she is hardly ever off-stage, and it was very difficult to look at anyone else while she was on-stage, but the other dancers also performed outstandingly well, and their collective commitment was extremely impressive, given that most are students and presumably must have had to take time off rehearsals to write the occasional essay. Musically it ranges over all sorts of delicious ingredients – ballet, contemporary, salsa, even flamenco – and dramatically it gives a sustained threnody on loss - lost love, lost happiness, lost youth and health – which gradually grips you until you are quite desperate for the lovers to be reunited.

The centrality of music and dance, the recombination of stock characters, the use of improvisation in the piece as a joint creation by the company – it’s like a modern recreation of the Commedia del’Arte, and it’s the spirit of the company and their clear belief in and joy in their work that ultimately provides the well-spring and moves the audience. The tale itself is a fundamentally misogynistic relic of the Dark Ages, and was used, one felt, perhaps a tad uncritically – poor Fayra is cruelly punished for her perfectly reasonable curiosity and her independent action and can only win back her husband at a terrible cost and after years of demonstrating her exemplary patience and loyalty – but then, if Valemon had explained to Fayra the reason why she wasn’t allowed to see his face and that there were only three more days to go before the curse was broken forever, there wouldn’t have been much of a story left for part 2. At this level you have to stifle your feminist urges and just go with it.

An interestingly modern spin at the end of the folk-tale had Valemon recognising the bridal wreath he had given Fayra years ago just after he has swallowed his nightly medicine, a powerful sleeping draught that helps him to forget his pain, and he then has to struggle desperately to remain conscious and not to lose himself again in a narcotic coma. This was nicely done.