Kismet explores human connection through hilarious realism and elemental abstraction
We caught the new double bill delivered by Rambert at the Festival Theatre. It was also the world premiere of Gallery of Consequence. KISMET brings together two heartfelt works that reflect on the unpredictable and deeply human experience we all share.
Act One: “Gallery of Consequence”
Act One of Kismet is an utter triumph—a perfectly constructed, emotionally charged, and frequently hilarious portrayal of airport life in all its chaotic glory. With a minimalist set of seats, desks, and a projected flight board that shifts with time, the creative team conjures a deeply immersive world that feels instantly familiar. It’s less about location and more about sensation—the distinct cocktail of stress, anticipation, frustration, and absurdity that defines every modern journey through an airport terminal.
Directed and choreographed by Emma Evelein, this piece captures the entire spectrum of airport personas: from the twitchy solo flyer obsessively checking their documents to the flamboyant desk staff, the irritable couple mid-argument, and the intoxicated business traveler whose charm has long worn off. Each performer brings exceptional character work and control to the stage—no one disappears into the background, and every movement feels intentional and vivid.
The decision to have all performers in socked feet adds a layer of vulnerability and realism. It’s not simply for dance fluidity—it cleverly grounds the performers (and audience) in that disarming airport ritual: belts off, shoes off, laptops out. We’re transported to the security line, not just visually but psychologically. The choreography echoes that uneasy dance of queues, body scans, and silent negotiations over space and privacy. Movements are at once fluid and awkward—dancers navigating laser-precise squares of light, with Ryan John Stafford’s lighting design evoking scanners and checkpoints to great effect.
One of the standout elements is the sound design by Raven Bush. At times mimicking the low, disorienting hum of a terminal, at others using pop-culture audio snippets to inject humour and familiarity. A particularly hilarious and effective segment features clips from viral sensation Antonio Baldwin intercutting the dialogue of the sassy check-in staff, perfectly timed to movement and expression.
Another unforgettable scene sees the cast seated, miming conversations while speaking in Simlish—the garbled nonsense language from The Sims video game. It’s a stroke of genius: initially amusing, then startlingly effective in highlighting how airports reduce us all to the same level of helplessness, regardless of who we are or where we’re going. The absurd walking styles and mimed interactions had already sparked the memory of The Sims for me, and the sound cue made it explicit: we’re all avatars in transit, at the mercy of systems we don’t control. Yet, for all its critique, the piece doesn’t feel cynical—it embraces both the comedy and quiet camaraderie that comes from shared discomfort.
Costumes by Susan Bender Whitfield complete the aesthetic—stylised yet familiar, hinting at airline uniforms and traveller stereotypes while allowing freedom of movement.
Act One of Kismet is not just a dance performance—it’s theatre, satire, commentary, and poetry in motion. It’s flawlessly executed and astonishing in its detail.
Act Two: “B.R.I.S.A”
In contrast, Act Two moves us into an entirely different emotional and choreographic space. The shift in tone and texture is immediate, and the work of choreographer and set designer Johan Inger is evident throughout. While Act One leaned into comedic realism and stylised gestures, this act drifts closer to lyrical abstraction—a contemporary ballet of elemental force and emotion.
The opening moments set the tone: performers skimming across the stage with lightning-fast foot shuffles that felt like leaves, dust, or petals stirred by a breeze—subtle, grounded motion that contrasts beautifully with still upper bodies. It’s a compelling image, establishing the central metaphor of the piece: the invisible yet undeniable force of wind, or more broadly, the intangible elements that move us.
This act is far more nebulous in story, leaving interpretation up to the viewer. What I saw felt elemental—both literally and emotionally. Costumes by Bregje van Balen, largely in black with select bursts of colour, allow symbolic readings to emerge. A dancer in red evokes fire—burning bright, fading in isolation, then reigniting through connection. Earth, in maroon, supports and grounds. Water, in blue, dances with effortless joy, his fluid, responsive movement a standout of the evening.
The music, composed by Amos Ben-Tal and featuring the voice of Nina Simone, deepens the atmospheric tone. At times meditative, at others quietly defiant, it underpins the dancers’ shifting energies with texture and emotional resonance.
One moment that left me puzzled was the presence of a large rug—the only set piece in this act. It remained unassuming until the final scene, when the cast slowly and meticulously rolled it up with a fellow performer inside. A metaphor, perhaps, for containment, or loss, or the return to source? Or maybe an elegant riddle, left unresolved.
Final Thoughts
Together, the two acts of Kismet offer a compelling exploration of control and surrender. Act One captures the ridiculous, relatable chaos of travel; Act Two invites us into a quieter, more metaphorical realm. Both are strong individually, but together they present two distinct yet complementary perspectives on how we navigate space, time, and human connection. The result is a richly layered, thought-provoking evening of dance.