Deeply dramatic and emotional, Jesús Rubio Gamo’s solo is an intimate yet grand voyage through time. Ryuichi Sakamoto’s poignant, soul-stirring piano melodies echo harmoniously with Gamo’s hyper-sensitive movement. Classical poses turn into tilts and lyrical, Limón-like flow and everything synergises so that this one person incarnates an entire cosmos of nostalgia, melancholy and bravery for the future. Gamo’s choreography teeters between seemingly spontaneous, music-led improvisation and a well-shaped, highly expressive style marked by swingy, repetitive circular motion, gentle twists of the torso, and a breath-taking momentum. Yet for all the virtuosity this dance is substantially personal and self-reflective – like a page torn out of a diary. It comes to a tearful end, leaving me to wonder if I was included in his esoteric catharsis – and if the outcome would be the same had different, less sentimental music been used.

Caught in a parabola of light, the bald, barefoot man in stylish black sweats exudes imperious urgency. This simultaneously magnetic and off-putting sensualist and conjuror occupies territory both public and private. A series of gestures betoken a gamut of states from invitation to irritation. He sucks teeth, swings arms, mouths words sotto voce or expels a scream. In a paroxysm of indecision he shakes his blurred head side to side. Despite the odd quick pirouette, stretch or revolving stagger, Jesús Rubio Gamo’s performance is less about choreography than a search for therapeutic catharsis on the part of a being frustrated by his inability to communicate. Mixing ecstasy, flamboyant pain and affectation, it’s a kind of dying swan act of self-display. But I can only stomach so much stymied, hyper-articulate anguish especially when accompanied by Ryuichi Sakamoto’s manipulative music (tremulous, cascading, begging for sympathy). No surprise that it ends in tears.