Budge3

At once frenetic and contemplative, Budge3 is an intricate knot of elastic energy, dance that is fit to burst at any moment. The triptych opens, soundless, on Florine Foucault, legs crossed, tending to what seems to be a seedling (the sprouting of a relationship). A murkier blue light embraces the stage for Pauline Raineri’s pained tale of entrapment, and Sophie Ammann’s helicopter spins catapult the performance to its heavy, heel-banging finale.

An accomplished work by an audacious collective that transitions from petite manifestations of love to joyous exclamations of carefree - if qualified - abandon

The starter duet is the most mature and delicate rendition here: Frank Kohler’s warm embrace is genuinely touching, and the pair’s relaxed tango interplay, offset against the plucked strings and ambient noise of René Aubry, gripping. We catch occasional sight of Foucault’s frantic hand gestures as her back faces the audience and her hair flaps - it’s bold and delicate. The monumental tai chi poses and slight contortions of chin and toes fuel a piece that has both dancers gasping for air with captivating alarm. Arms And explores the ebb and flow of life; as the seedling/butterfly/book (it can be whatever we want) is passed from hand to hand, we’re hooked by the narrative.

Static noise and warped joints that wouldn’t look out of place in Resident Evil characterise Si|Si, a slow burner restraining huge power. Erin O’Reilly is astonishing: sudden twists and lost, yearning looks explode into wide extensions and a simple, stunning backward centrifugal shuffle. Again, sound is well-considered: distant melodies fade in as escape becomes a developing reality; the momentum is oddly reminiscent of that heart-warming camper van scene in Little Miss Sunshine.

O’Reilly’s back for more in Harmony in Blues, accompanied by co-choreographers Ammann and Rosanne Briens. The loud chugging of a train is the backdrop; the dancers balance on tip toes with sickening realism, churn furiously and stretch to the sky grandiosely – surprising for a changing-the-light-bulb motion. The Drifters’ This Magic Moment is an appropriate mix of romance and instability as a tangle of arms support and abandon in this Deep South curveball. Plaid shirts and wry smiles are far from the preceding expression of a tortured soul.

The troupe has a tendency to creep too far forward, obscuring the audience’s view, and on rare occasion it is difficult to know whether gestures are intentionally staggered or somewhat out of step with other dancers/the music. It doesn’t matter, because Budge3 is an accomplished work by an audacious collective that transitions from petite manifestations of love to joyous exclamations of carefree - if qualified - abandon, with perceptible intelligence. Come back to Edinburgh, pronto.