In the opening moments of CRAWLERJessie Thompson drapes herself over a white side table in a long, exaggerated backbend. Jason McNamara sits on the other side of the stage, drumsticks in hand, his expression neutral, backlit by the warm yellow hues of the table lamps. Thompson continues to twist a bit longer than you’d expect – appearing inhuman, machine-like, before gradually unfolding, unfolding as she rises to face us.

CRAWLER blends contemporary dance elements, street, rave and hip-hop dance elements, along with musical improvisation, with agility and ease. Jason McNamara’s percussion – which includes free jazz solos, 120 bpm electronic loops and everything in between – serves as both anchor and counterpoint. Together, the couple achieves a synchronicity that feels quite rare to witness. Raspy trills from McNamara’s flute solo (!) are mirrored in Thompson’s gasps for air, the contact of her feet against the floorboards echoing perfectly from his bass room kick. There is a sense of vital back and forth between pedal, floor and breath CRAWLER never losing its footing or pace.

Much of the show’s success lies in Thompson’s uncanny ability to build and dissolve tension in her body: teasing out choreographic threads for her audience to follow. Hair flicks, scratches and defiant wide-eyed stares create a familiarity that helps maintain focus. For all the show’s improbability, for all its gleeful propensity to play with sound and genre, we somehow still know where we’re bound.

While CRAWLER punctuated by bursts of dizzying (and stroboscopic) speed, these passages pull back gently and just in time. Thompson’s high-energy hip-hop choreography—arguably where she seems at her happiest and most free—is offset moments later by controlled distortions and precise linework. This contrast in her pace, along with a wide range of facial expressions, makes Thompson genuinely captivating to watch.

Ultimately, the bravery of both Thompson and McNamara’s presence on stage cannot be understated. The rawness of their movements is partly due to – and enhanced by – the intimacy of the studio space. This means that every facial contortion and muscle contraction, every gasp for air and bead of sweat on the skin is left exposed for the audience to witness and absorb.

It’s rare that a drummer and dancer so successfully holds your attention for 45 minutes. CRAWLERs real strength lies in its ability to command it: to exude a defiant force that will stay with you, and stay, long after you leave.

CRAWLERDance Base (Dance Base 1), run completed