It’s a long time between 2003, when Lullaby first took to the stage, and 2026, when it becomes the first professional dance production to grace the newly flattened King’s Theatre stage. Conceived in the shadow of personal bedside grief following the death of her father, choreographer Jasmin Vardimon saw hospitals as “cold and alienated spaces”. And yet, whilst the show still follows the journey made by patients from pre-medicalised life, through A&E triage, into treatment, and thence to restoration, or the finality of death, Lullaby in 2026 is most remarkable for its sense of humour.
Whether it’s the gentle farce of ill-defined waiting-room etiquette or the desperate scramble to the front of the queue for a potentially life-changing diagnosis, Vardimon finds the pathos and bathos inherent in every nook and cranny of her abstracted clinical maze. It’s a highly rhythmic affair, particularly through these early stages, with Vardimon setting her players into motion to pulsing Latin beats—overlaid by more globally attuned melodies.
There’s also no denying the sheer energy and physicality of the piece, which more than justifies the padding several of the ensemble sport on their joints. From medical professionals to patients, no one is escaping time in hospital without bruises to their bodies as well as their souls: Lullaby is as much highly physical theatre as it is dance.
However, in establishing such clear personalities—whether it’s a vibrant young woman facing a grave diagnosis, a troubled paramedic with highly physical demons to battle, a kinetic institutional lecture on cancer treatment, a predatory doctor, or a drunk reveller loath to stay in his hospital bed—Vardimon sets the scene for an ambitious narrative that struggles for coherence at times. Despite this, Lullaby remains compelling for its entire 90-minute existence—driven above all by a physical vocabulary that demands astonishing endurance from its cast.
“And yet, whilst the show still follows the journey made by patients from pre-medicalised life, through A&E triage, into treatment, and thence to restoration, or the finality of death, Lullaby in 2026 is most remarkable for its sense of humour.“
Choreography and Ensemble Performance in Jasmin Vardimon’s Lullaby
The choreography in Jasmin Vardimon’s reimagined production of Lullaby thrives on duality, fusing high-stakes physical theatre with deep emotional resonance. Its strength lies in its muscular precision; the ensemble executes gravity-defying lifts and hyper-precise, serpentine floor work that feels both technically flawless and intensely risky. Vardimon transforms the clinical monotony of a busy hospital into a surreal arena, ripe with weaponisable medical props, ranging from rattling trolleys and shifting privacy drapes to rigid Zimmer frames.
The production’s thematic power is amplified by its ability to pivot on a dime—flicking effortlessly from lighthearted, calypso-infused ward parties to sobering depictions of bodily failure. However, this unrelenting intensity occasionally edges into frantic territory. The rapid-fire shifts between dark humour and grim realism, paired with repetitive, agitated gestural motifs, rictus grins and spasmodic neck tics—exemplified by Liudmila Loglisci’s uncanny, glitching robo-nurse—can feel overwhelming. While these choices successfully mirror the chaos of a systemic healthcare crisis, they risk exhausting the audience, leaving little breathing room to absorb the quieter moments of human frailty, save for a brief, tender duet staged across a squeaking hospital mattress. Yet, even if proceedings are a touch overwrought, every moment is polished to perfection.
Much of this physical achievement rests on the excellence of the ensemble, who give their all from start to finish: Lew Baker, Lisa Birades, Donny Beau Ferris, Thomas Kerek, Liudmila Loglisci, Eri Magkou, and Risa Maki. They are a fine group who inject authentic character into their performances, whilst leaving everything on the stage, executing the demanding, visually impressive choreography with athletic precision.
Staging, Projections, and Sentimental Resolution
Equal praise is due to Guy Bar-Amotz and Jasmin Vardimon’s clever set, woven from hospital curtains and interlocking rails, alongside Andrew Crofts’s exceptional lighting and projections. Crofts incorporates body-worn cameras to beam intrusive, real-time close-ups of clinical examinations directly onto the set, while stylized projections of X-rays and CT scans wash across the shifting drapes, bringing diagnostic imaging elegantly into the choreographic space.
“The choreography in Jasmin Vardimon’s reimagined production of Lullaby thrives on duality, fusing high-stakes physical theatre with deep emotional resonance.“
Yet the subsequent shift into a sentimental, if technically dazzling, finale feels jarring after such an unrelentingly cynical portrait of clinical suffering. It reads like a concession to the audience’s appetite for easy catharsis; Vardimon would do better to trust her instincts for grim humour—or at least weave that latent warmth throughout the work rather than back-loading it at the curtain. There is, after all, abundant beauty to be found in a workforce dedicated to the care of others from cradle to grave, just crying out for a nod.
Nevertheless, Lullaby makes a fine baptism of dance for the all-new King’s Theatre stage. Not just any choreographer could tell a story of life and inevitable death and leave a rapt audience with muted but appreciative smiles on their faces. Then again, it’s not every production that features a set capable of bowing come the curtain call.
All Images: Lullaby – Jasmin Vardimon – Ashford
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