The Stage

Napoletango

Published Friday 5 August 2011 at 15:17 by Katie Colombus

Sometimes it’s nice to go to the theatre and feel perplexed. It’s also nice to feel closure before you leave. It’s not so nice to sit through two hours of a live theatre show being genuinely flummoxed and feeling like there must be something you’re missing.

Napoletango is billed as a Latin Neapolitan musical, promising a feast of the senses. It is indeed a smorgasbord of sketches - in a street (cue a change in lighting), a bedroom (sexy undies, a bit of praying and waving of sparkly hankies), a shower (gratuitous nudity) a theatre (spangle) and a kitchen (bit of grub). A rowdy cast - a family of circus performers - holler and jostle, occasionally find a rhythm, shuffle, eat, pose, sing and are bossed around by the ebullient Concetta Incoronato (Cristina Donadio).

They keep shouting about their desire to dance the tango. After the first quarter I expect at least one person to stand up from the audience and shout “get on with it then!” But it turns out they don’t dance. For 98% of the show. Nor do they perform any circus tricks. They don’t really sing either. And I’m not sure that it’s about the words - although the surtitles are so woefully inaccurate that it’s hard to tell. It turns out that there are only two real tango dance sections, the standard of which isn’t particularly high.

While the cast convey the character of a raucous circus family with conviction, this is about all they do. The concept isn’t absurd enough to be existentialist, so the audience is left wondering why, or more importantly, why not?

If there had been any dancing, or circus skill, narrative or any tangible point to the separate sketches perhaps it would be easier to get involved and feel part of the show, if not understand it completely (or even a little bit).

Napoletango may well encapsulate the spirit of the tango, but without the steps to back it up, it’s like offering a feast without food.