Idiosyncratic is the tactful way of describing Carmen Cortés, although bonkers is more direct.
The dramatic flamenco diva has a show based on the heroines of the Andalusian writer Federico Garcia Lorca, but her metaphysics are so muddled, her theatrics so extravagant, and her presentation so unplugged, that you struggle to find graces to save.
There's the unintentionally comic motif of flamenco shoes, a great pile of which mount up on stage, dozens of which fall from the ceiling.
Her stiff torso and shoulders, and her slipshod presentation (costumes adrift, hair clips flying), are easy to fault, as are the sentimental pre-recorded piano music and the dancers connected with stretchy fabric (I kid you not).
Despite all this, Cortés has a raw power that defies her shambolic show. Indeed, in two key solos, one in a red dress, one white, this mature flamenco dancer is so alive, so furious, you almost taste panic.
It's a combination of her fiery indifference and emotional dÈshabillÈ, plus her expressive hands. They coil and flare and flutter, her wild gesticulations somehow catching our sorrows.
Amid this crazy charabanc, including two sensationally distraught singers and good group dancing by seven wonderfully curvy women, are fragments of truth.
Compania Carmen Cortes
Sadler's Wells
Rosebery Avenue, EC1R 4TN
