Now that Candoco Dance Company has hit the ripe age of twenty, to celebrate, we are treated to a triple bill of three new commissions, Candoco-style. I say this due to noting the very fitting statement situated on the front of the programme for the evening which reads, ‘An anniversary programme of three bold and unexpected works’. This is precisely what draws many to Candoco’s work year after year: the unexpected. And this point alone proves the company are successfully achieving what they set out to do. Candoco is of course the unique leading dance company comprised of disabled and non-disabled dancers, founded by Celeste Dandeker and Adam Benjamin in 1991. They embrace difference in order to enrich dance itself, therefore providing exciting, versatile and new ways of thinking about dance. Funnily enough, due to their hard work promoting diversity and excellence, the focus does not solely rely on the fact that disabled dancers are simply used in the context of dance. The company provides proof that their value as artists is of far more importance and evidently so, continues to produce extraordinary work. And tonight’s triple bill is of no exception.

Saving the best until last has no relevance here as we begin with the first commission by choreographer Rachid Ouramdane. Looking Back is an intimate experience with a big atmosphere. We initially feel as though we are about to encounter a rather low-key rock gig as the stage is encircled by five guitars and amps. The lighting is, well, light as we hesitantly wait for something, coughs and sniffs from the audience breaking the ice. Eventually the first body walks into the space with the belief of encompassing all the time in the world; an ongoing theme throughout. A sequence of intensely slow movement is carried out, easing through skill and balance whilst the five remaining dancers proceed to walk on and off, simply watching. The whole thing is almost intimidating, yet we wait with bated breath, sucked in by an extremely gradual build up of tension. All are dressed casually in black, complimenting the ambience the guitars begin to provide which are soon used effectively by the dancers themselves, at points controlling the movement. Control is a key word when relating to this piece, the movement and even where we as an audience are concerned. It’s as though Ouramdane knows exactly where to pull our focus, cleverly utilising a video camera at one point, manipulated by a dancer. However, it is those being filmed that contribute to the manipulation, moving in literal slow motion as an interactive group which is then projected from the camera onto the back of the stage. It is a plain yet mind blowing piece of staging enhanced by the focus on the dancer’s faces rather than their bodies, while snapshots are taken with the intention of capturing the facial expressions as though we are watching the movement through the dancer’s eyes. The whole body of the piece with its honest and personal setting is disturbingly beautiful. Further disturbance is created in images cleverly depicted in the space, and tension rises, brilliantly timed by a simple yet exuberant stamping motif. Dancers are possessed by the guitar as they flail their bodies around by means of rocking out, and imaginative goings on include oddly situated tap dancing and alteration of one’s clothes; something is being said here and we are desperately intrigued. Within the programme note, Ouramdane uses phrases such as ‘poetic’, ‘distinct depth of feeling’ and ‘the emotional charges that emerge are invitations to the audience to create open-ended fictions’ to describe this piece. Stunningly, he hits the nail right on the head.

Following on from such a thought -provoking start is Matthias Sperling’s equally thought-provoking This Is It, but perhaps for entirely different reasons. Unnoticed by a chattering audience, out steps Candoco’s first ever commissioned solo in the form of a cloaked dancer in a big blonde wig. She grins cheekily as the audience begin to realise her presence, rousing giggles to erupt around Southbank’s Queen Elizabeth Hall. The lighting, again, is rather simplistic, hiding not an ounce of the dominatrix-esque superhero that has just been revealed from under that cloak. This striking image most certainly falls under the ‘unexpected’ category, continually accompanied by a cheeky smile. Start as you mean to go on as the saying says, resulting in the next fifteen minutes being spent in utter bewilderment. For a while, this rare individual progresses to move in random ways, resembling a curious child at show and tell. Her childlike manners present phrases of actions in which you feel obliged to watch out of politeness as you would do with a child dancing around the living room at Christmas. This continues, evoking an increase in gentle laughter, when out of nowhere our dancer quite literally bursts into an 80's Eurovision-worthy song, fancy lights and all. Singing rather well it has to be said, an experience of a Top of the Pops nature plays out before us, smoke machines and tacky lights whisking us into what feels like a dream, her dream. As the song draws to a close, all returns to its original state as she commences in repeating the initial movement phrases, but with three accompanying words, ‘this is it’. On the final ‘it’ the piece concludes to resounding yet baffled cheers. An odd experience to say the least, undoubtedly posing numerous questions to its witnesses, but it really does enable you to recognise yourself as an individual. Is it dance? Yes, if you’re open-minded enough. However, I’m afraid that those unfamiliar or new to dance would find it far less accessible and possibly quite frustrating. To quote an audience member inexperienced in dance, ‘it was cross between a horrible pornography and Stars in Their Eyes’.

On a completely opposite end of the scale, the last piece commissioned by Dance Umbrella was the restaging project Set and Reset/Reset by the Trisha Brown Dance Company with Candoco. Trisha Brown Dance Company member Abigail Yager directs the new take on the classic 1983 Set and Reset, teaching original extracts to the Candoco dancers whilst also leading them through the exact improvisation process used back in 1983. The result is just beautiful, a reminder of some brilliant history. The design is based on the original geometric hangings and transparent wings refresh the space while the fluid costumes unify the dancers. A feeling of rejoicing spreads throughout the room as the dancers begin with a sideways lift resembling an invisible walk, and so the beauty continues. Pedestrian noises and words provide the postmodern soundtrack to pendulum-like bodies, networking around each other, arms and legs swiftly swinging into the space. It’s an abstract piece at its best which donates to the collective variety of Candoco; such an iconic piece as this exhibits why Candoco are such a significant company. Although the previous two works leave you with far more ponderings and questions, the coming together of these two companies and artistries is one to remember and keep safe in the memory box.

All three commissions are gratefully dissimilar from one another and rightfully take their place within the company in an outstanding quality, whether that be a good or bad thing. Due to being all roundly spot on, Looking Back is an unbelievable piece of dance not to be missed. Just when you thought things couldn’t get any better...