Marianka Swain 02 June 2022 12:09pm BST Last summer, hotshot American choreographer Kyle Abraham followed in the hallowed footsteps of Carlos Acosta by becoming only the second black person

to create a main-stage piece for the Royal Ballet. He followed up that historic debut with a longer work for the company in March, the alternately exuberant and elegiac – and predominantly

classical – The Weathering. But the versatile Abraham, who has also choreographed Beyoncé for a Vogue cover shoot, set a New York City Ballet work to Jay-Z and Kanye West, and used movement

to explicitly address racism and social justice, presents a bolder stylistic fusion in the UK premiere of Requiem: Fire in the Air of the Earth. It’s danced by his own New York-based

classical dance vocabulary meets disruptive new ideas. The design is striking too, with a giant circle on the back wall that changes colour, as do four corresponding neon lights framing the

stage. It’s like a mood ring writ large. That imagery supports Abraham’s stated exploration of life, death and reincarnation, and indeed the production is peppered with fatalities swiftly

followed by joyful rebirths. However, those recoveries happen so fast that it gives Abraham’s 10-strong ensemble little chance to express any emotion. Dancers fall into shuddering fits and

collapse, but those around them barely react. After a while, the audience learns not to invest in these mysterious medical emergencies either, since each sufferer leaps to their feet within

seconds. That makes it a puzzling partner for Mozart’s earth-shattering music. When the fast and furious Kyrie comes flying in, there’s simply nothing happening on stage that’s even close to

its impassioned intensity, nor does Abraham’s movement ever build with the score. Most aggravating is the butchered sampling of the Lacrimosa – the equivalent of hacking up a wagyu steak

and shoving the pieces into a dodgy doner kebab. Besides, this is primarily an abstract work, not a dramatic one. Once you accept it on those terms, you’re free to enjoy Abraham’s plethora

of ideas and exciting synthesis of flowing lyrical work with sultry jazz, athletic capoeira, the sharp isolations of hip-hop and the grounded power of African folk. I’ve never seen a

performer go straight from Swan Lake-esque wing-flapping to gravity-defying breakdancing back bends, or follow up a serene arabesque with a saucy hip-swivel.  But Abraham’s company

demonstrate clarity and authority in every aspect. They relish the impish character moments too: a preening couple holds court while a man scampers on all fours like a pet dog. The

patterning created by this cohesive troupe is majestic, but there are also individual flashes of brilliance – particularly from Logan Hernandez, Tamisha A Guy and Martell Ruffin. Fashion

designer Giles Deacon supplies the unisex costumes. There are silky patterned tunics for both the men and women, along with wacky additions like one incongruous full tutu and big puffball

ruffles worn on the arm that reminded me of a child’s water wings. However, I wasn’t sure if Abraham was aiming for purely playful, as that aesthetic suggests, or something more profound. A

projected video montage at the end – a wedding, a body floating in the ocean, a cradled baby – attempts to graft on meaning after the fact. But this hour-long piece, while always vivid and

engaging, feels less like the circle of life and more like going around in circles. ------------------------- _Run now over_