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What does it mean to be free? Can we only define freedom by its absence?  ”We have to fail the experience of freedom to be able to recreate it” said Jasmin Vardimon, when talking about her latest work Freedom. These ironic contrasts are prevalent throughout this intriguing, if indulgent exploration of all that is, and is not freedom. The structure of the piece is episodic, with a series of different characters, whose stories eventually collide. As typical for this company, the piece melds voice, theatricality, movement and technology. It is hedonistic and intoxicating. The opening landscape immediately transports us to an ecological, prehistoric dreamland: a recycled jungle suspended over the stage. There are clusters of floating lights that bring to mind the ‘Naavi’ from Avatar. One performer climbs a moving leafy mass that then delightfully disintegrates into the floor. It is a promising beginning.

The set is intricate and versatile: one moment a forest, next extensions of a dancer's arms, then revolving as if ‘the passing of time’. The choices in music work well, from driving pumping tracks to more natural sound, with popular cultural inserts, most notably the wistful sounds of Israel Kamakawiwo’ole’s Over the Rainbow and John Lennon’s Imagine. The video animations by Jesse Collett are clever and highly entertaining. This mix of media and dance is engaging and one of the signature trademarks of the long-term collaboration between Jasmin Vardimon and Guy Bar-Amotz.

As we would expect from this company, the vibrancy of the movement is exciting: physically-demanding choreography which requires buckets of strength, stamina and energy. The dancers launch through space, flinging their bodies into the air and to the ground, contrasting with moments of exquisite and detailed gestures. One duet was entirely hypnotic and conjured images of sea organisms undulating in deep oceans. Through the piece, the six dancers are shackled, ravaged and devoured, as if trapped in their own 'Jungle Reality' nightmare: one moment being eaten by rapid dogs, next kicked in the face, or having their wrists bound. They explore bold contrasts both imagined and real in a variety of inventive vignettes: characters entwined in 'free' love, tangled ballerinas stomping and screaming, and best of all, a skit with a human surf board.

At points though, the movement sequences are repetitive without adding any new ideas, and some of the scenes are over-indulgent, which sometimes leaves the audience ahead of the plot and looking at their watches. Having said that, there are moments of delicious melodrama which strike a bittersweet chord. These serve to revive the important subject of this production, and beg the question - can we handle being free? Do we actually need boundaries to feel safe? Despite misgivings, Freedom is a poetic work of technically challenging physical theatre; undeniably accessible and socially relevant.