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French director and choreographer Pierre Rigal scored a hit at this venue with his earlier work, 'Press'. Now he's back with a blend of dance, theatre and gig, subtitled 'A Physical Concert', that is whimsical and intermittently inventive, but essentially slightly undernourished. As the performance opens, a band's kit, seemingly inhabiting an otherwise empty stage, moves as if possessed of a life of its own.

Then the four performers - well, parts of them - come into view: a keyboard sprouts two slender arms; male torsos topped with guitar faces dance a pas de deux. Plugging in their amps, the cast play rhythmic games with feedback and contort their bodies around their instruments, turning themselves into outlandish musical hybrid creatures as the soundscape resolves into a series of raw rock numbers.

There are some moments of memorable wit - a cymbal held behind a guitarist's head resembles a halo and administers a sly jab to the notion of the rock god, and a sequence in which the drummer beats out a frenzied riff on the soles and heels of his slinky female bandmate's killer shoes is exhilarating. But the show rather overstays its welcome; it feels neither dangerous nor developed enough, the songs are not especially interesting, and there's altogether too much self-indulgent noodling.