Years ago I was talking to Robert Lepage, one of the greatest exponents of physical theatre, about the difference between dancers and actors. He was in the middle of his collaboration with Sylvie Guillem and Russell Maliphant on Eonnagata and he couldn’t get over the contrasts between them. “Dancers are different animals than actors or writers,” he told me. “Creative impulses come from the body, from muscles, from movement. You have to let yourself go into this flow.”
I thought about that conversation when I was watching Alan Cumming in Burn, in which the actor makes his dance debut at the age of 57. Cumming would light up any club dancefloor. Put him on a stage in a play such as The Bacchae or a musical such as Cabaret and ask him to move, and he will do so beautifully. But place him at the centre of a piece that communicates principally through movement and the result is unsatisfying.
