Dancers should try staying alive

Desperation and dance prove a powerful psychological cocktail in Horace McCoy's evocation of the treacherous gap between anonymous poverty and the million-dollar attractions of Hollywood super-stardom.

Edward Wilson's production sets out to capture the hopeless aspirations and fatigue of the young couples in the Depression era who would dance for up to 75 days at a time, starting with dreams of a holiday prize or being discovered by a Hollywood producer, and ending up with little but disillusionment and bloody feet.

There is an inevitable irony in watching the National Youth Theatre - a company of actors hoping to be discovered - playing a group of young people who are anxious to dance into the imaginations of any film director who might be sitting in the audience. But while, like a glitter ball above a dance floor, there are several individual parts that gleam and catch the eye in this production, there is not enough momentum for it truly to convince as a whole.

Charlie Walton's frequently stunning lighting design allows for a strong opening. The cast stands bathed in blue and green shades evoking the sea, so that a moment of calm is established before the colours become brasher and brighter for the commotion of the dance floor. The pace is set by the confident, if slightly brittle, performance of a dance host whose mercenary sadism is so strong that he hauls a collapsed pregnant dancer off the floor so she can whimper a song into the micro-phone. There is too much of a contrast, however, between his pushy patter and the over-leisurely delivery of the cast's scripted sardonic whinges - leading to the overall sense that the production should get itself to an assertiveness class.

Emily Pollet, as Gloria - the girl with a death wish who asks her dance partner to help her commit suicide - is one of the highlights, with her rolling-eyed gutsy portrayal of despair with attitude. Amanda Hippie also brings to life the cruelty of the dance marathons, as the reluctant, pregnant victim of her husband's ambitions. There is no dearth of talent here. With some structured and energetic reworking, this could be a good evening out.

Until 16 September. Box office: 020 7416

They Shoot Horses Don't They?