It should be redundant to call them "dancers who act," for an essential part of being a great dancer is creating a memorable onstage character. But the performers director-choreographer Matthew Bourne attracts are gifted storytellers, in some cases so far above and beyond mere technique that we forget we're watching dance—or even theatre—and take momentary emotional journeys with the tale.
In this case, Bourne's offering is an all-dance adaptation—homage, passing nod, the debate will continue—of Tim Burton's 1990 film Edward Scissorhands. The characters and skeletal story line are there. So are bits of Danny Elfman's musical themes, now wafting through Terry Davies' score. Edward remains an invention, here given scissors for fingers in a rather confusing prologue, and thus unable to touch others—at least physically. The emotional bonds developed in the film are not fully revealed onstage, leading to an abrupt, undeveloped ending. But thanks to Bourne's quirky humor, eye for visual comedy and drama, and choreography that turns the body into a leaping, swirling mass of narrative, we are shown scenes of sheer loveliness.
Most memorably, the suburban town into which Edward wanders wakes up and drives, dance-style—the four-member families speeding, lurching, losing their way. A topiary ballet calls to mind the beauteous patterns and symmetries of 19th-century ballets: a waltz of the flowers, a dryads' forest. But also recalling 19th-century ballets, between the beautifully staged dances, are clumsy scene changes in which action takes place in front of the curtain. Where had Bourne's creativity disappeared to when he was crafting these moments? Other dances last too long, exceeding their usefulness and interest.
So it's the dancers who give us the emotional escape we came to the theatre for. All roles are dual cast. On opening night Richard Winsor stepped into Edward's gloves and touched us with Edward's longing. Etta Murfitt is lovingly maternal as the mother who takes him in. Michela Meazza mesmerizes as the sirenic neighbor. But James Leece, as the town bully who steals the girl of Edward's heart, is so richly present, so fully engaged in the choreography, that he is the kind of actor-dancer who makes us forget he's acting-dancing and takes us with him to places we've never been. It's he who cuts us to the heart.
Presented by Center Theatre Group at the Ahmanson Theatre, 135 N. Grand Ave., L.A. Tue.-Fri. 8 p.m., Sat. 2 & 8 p.m., Sun. 2 & 7:30 p.m. (Dark Dec. 14.) Dec. 13-31. (213) 628-2772. www.centertheatregroup.org.