Concept, Direction, and Choeography by Jasmin Vardimon
Review by Dominic Corr
Sterile linen, squeaking gurneys, and the suffocating stillness of a medical ward set the scene for Jasmin Vardimon’s hauntingly abrasive physical theatre piece Lullaby. Returning for its 2026 tour, this uncompromising study of mortality and institutional power dynamics remains a darkly funny, deeply unsettling exploration of the human body in decline and the rise of its bureaucratic ‘care’. Inspired by personal grief, Vardimon strips away the comforting veneer of modern healthcare, transforming the clinical apparatus into a surreal battlefield where doctors exercise voyeuristic control and patients grapple with their own impermanence; it is a striking, visceral piece to re-engage The King’s Theatre’s dance programming.
Visually and acoustically, the production is a masterclass in atmospheric invention with design from Vardimon and Guy Bar-Amotz, though its ambitious scope occasionally stumbles into clunky territory with the shifting of ward curtains and gurney-beds. A simple backdrop of shifting hospital privacy curtains brilliantly reconfigures the space from operating theatre to waiting room to lovers’ flat to a transient outdoors space with fluid agility. This spatial design is heightened by an evocative lighting scheme and cutting-edge multimedia integration. Live video feeds worn by performers project uncomfortably close-up body scans onto screens, another a brutal interaction between doctor and patient, or abusive partners; where consent and sexual assault painfully weave their way into a routine check-ins and the fallout of those who conceal the truth when arriving to A&E. An inventive soundscape captures a dancer drumming a long-lead microphone directly against flesh and metal to generate a funky, rhythmic beat. Yet, while these technological flourishes add striking, cartoonish nightmare textures, the reliance on intricate gadgetry can occasionally feel patchy or over-engineered, briefly slowing the production’s otherwise relentless momentum.
The choreography demands an extraordinary, bruising athleticism from its five-strong ensemble—currently performed with thrilling commitment by Lew Baker, Lisa Birades, Donny Beau Ferris, Thomas Kerek, Eri Magkou/Liudila Loglisci and Risa Maki. The dancers contort, collide, and twist around hospital furniture with razor-sharp precision, balancing moments of harrowing vulnerability against flashes of grotesque, slapstick humour. Scenes ranging from a surreal, violent lecture involving a pillow to dancers twirling Zimmer frames like majorette batons highlight Vardimon’s knack for dark-magic realism. Nevertheless, the narrative pacing experiences a slight dip in its second half; the piece becomes somewhat sprawling as repetitive motifs stretch the runtime beyond its ideal threshold, momentarily losing the razor-like focus of its opening movement. But in contrast, the technique, the physicality, and the talent are never dulled. Kudos to a superb team for carrying a heavy, complex production and turning the human form into a plaything for the imagination.
Even when Lullaby’s structure threatens to feel overlong, the sheer emotional weight and physical rigour of the performance pull the audience back into its hypnotic orbit. Vardimon’s revival refuses to offer easy solace, choosing instead to confront the indignities of illness and the cold reality of loss with unflinching honesty. Rich in surreal irony, visual audacity, and extraordinary physical execution, this production stands as a profoundly moving, fiercely intelligent triumph of contemporary dance theatre.
A Surreal, Fiercely Intelligent Triumph
Lullaby runs at The King’s Theatre until 25th September.
Running time: One hour and thirty minutes without interval
Photo credit – Tristram Kenton
Review by Dominic Corr (contact@corrblimey.uk)
Editor of Corr Blimey, and a freelance critic for Scottish publications, Dominic has been writing freelance for several established and respected outlets such as BBC Radio Scotland, The List, The Scotsman, Edinburgh Festival Magazine, The Reviews Hub, In Their Own League, The Wee Review and Edinburgh Guide. As of 2023, he is a member of the Critic’s Award for Theatre Scotland (CATS) and a member of the UK Film Critics.
