A dazzling rock fairytale, an inventive dance performance, a piece of pure concert-theatre. In [And], the choreographer Grace Ellen Barkey transcends all the boundaries of theatre, dance and music with an irresistible flair. The piece is based on the Persian fairytale that also inspired Puccini to compose Turandot. On this occasion, Princess T is a woman who chooses to remain a virgin. She has every man who courts her beheaded. Of course in the end a prince turns up who passes all the tests but is executed all the same. The main set element in [And] is a frame in which the characters can be seen from the hips up. It is a sort of mini theatre in which they are distanced from the story. The prince concerned is an attractive rock guitarist, who moans out his lines while lying with his instrument on top of him. The narrator is the princess's slave girl, who tells of her own suffering and that of her beloved prince in melodious laments, energetic rap and weepy pop songs. The actors become dancers, the dancers musicians, and everyone in the piece fits in to a deliciously funky unfolding of the story. There are a couple of very fine choreographic moments in this piece. Such as when the prince and princess meet each other in a duet, and cautious embraces are repeatedly and brusquely interrupted by her majesty's self-imposed chastity. Another appealing moment is when the dancers lie on the floor wriggling like fish on dry land, thirsting for the one woman they will never possess. When Princess T swaps her dizzyingly high heels for gloves on her feet, she assumes the appearance of a bird. Water and air, they are just as incompatible as fish and birds. Until the princess is left behind gasping for breath after the death of her beloved. The mouth opens but no more sound emerges. [And] is a touching fairytale, using every possible visual and motive means. Although the performance follows a classical narrative course, it is the colourful and inventive action that repeatedly surprises you as you watch.