Review: Holly Blakey’s A Wound with Teeth & Phantom – whimsical wandering and militant drilling

Holly Blakey can pull a crowd no doubt. I went to see her latest double bill at the Queen Elizabeth Hall on the second night and it was still packed, and the demographic was an interesting one. Mixed? …ish. But largely made up of bright young things – the Who’s Who of London’s cultural scene. This is both a credit to Blakey and a sign that dance, in fact, isn’t dead. Younger generations are going to the theatre for work that aligns with them it seems.

I mentioned double bill… yet I’m a tad on the fence. Yes, Blakey presents two works, but the second feels a bit of a tag on. A Wound with Teeth is a new piece, the first section of Blakey’s upcoming full-length work Lo, which premieres in 2026. It’s 50 minutes long, then there’s a short interval before a slightly augmented version of 2021’s Phantom, which must come in at barely 10 minutes.

The structuring of the evening just felt a bit weird. A Wound with Teeth is a substantial work with lots of food for thought, and then Phantom just started to go somewhere, albeit somewhere very similar, before it was suddenly all over. I’d suggest this needs a rethink, but I presume as 2026 is going to be all about Lo, it won’t be an issue anyway.

To the good stuff. A Wound with Teeth is an interesting work indeed. It’s the moment when I came to Blakey’s party. The blurb talks of the mind, the act of forgetting and remembering, yet Blakey’s work isn’t literal per se, but by the end I was contemplating thought behaviours and the nature of time itself as her work unfolded in a kind of vortex that includes both whimsical wandering and militant drilling.

Good work attracts good artists, and Blakey’s troupe of dancers are just that. A collection of idiosyncratic performers, who bring individualism and the required high-octane energy to Blakey’s subversive world. The evening also wouldn’t be the same without Blakey’s collaborators. The music by Gwilym Gold is a revelation. The score for A Wound with Teeth is eclectic, to say the least, featuring atmospheric, anthemic sounds, choral song that often goes to the very edge of the major/minor boundary and beats that wouldn’t be out of place at Berghain.

Likewise, the costuming by Matthew Josephs with archival pieces by Chopova Lowena (in Phantom). It’s charity shop chic via Parisian avant-garde couture. Favourite pieces include sequined snoods, full, circular skirts and coats, the almost obligatory buttock cutouts and a dancer dressed as a trojan horse with high-fashion hoof footwear – Lee McQueen will be enjoying this from wherever he might currently be.

At 50 minutes long, there’s the odd passage that is weaker, yet nothing feels like a waste of time. Blakey explores as she sees fit, and her company of artists hold the space with an ideal mix of adult confidence and juvenile, playful exploration. The good stuff is in fact the most choreographic. Blakey works well with a beat as it allows her distinctive movement language to sing – a heady mix of articulate, impact-fuelled punchy dancing. There were elements of krumping and jive – chest pops and wild arms coupled with regimented, low kicks and bounces all with a grounded feel.

It’s busy but never oversaturated, as Blakey uses clear, rhythmical phrasing and definitive, spatial relationships between the dancers and the space they inhabit.

After the interval, Phantom discusses miscarriage as a subject matter, something that Blakey has personally experienced. The piece opens in near darkness with the cast huddled together at the back of the stage singing with an energised moan. Every so often a dancer slowly crumbles to their feet or moves forward with quiet, constant convulsions. The atmosphere is heavy, with something similar to personal grief or uncontrollable depression. It reminded me of scenes from Lars von Trier’s Melancholia – if you haven’t seen it, do.

The first section disappears with a bang and we find ourselves back in familiar, military-esque territory. As the dancers punch along to the regular beat, we also see individuals on the floor with legs splayed in a form of seizure. At one point an individual doing this begins to shriek in pain, and then stands and uses her hands to denote knots of movement located in her lower abdomen. It’s powerful stuff and can be read literally if that’s where the journey is taking you (and you’re aware of the premise one assumes).

My only issue with Phantom is that it suggests Blakey’s language hasn’t necessarily developed over the last four years. Identity is important, no doubt, but so is evolution, even more so in a recognisable canon of merit. Phantom felt like two additional scenes from A Wound with Teeth, which could be considered a compliment, but here it felt like weakness.

That said, I’m excited to see Blakey’s next show already, and I hope the full-length Lo includes all her evident talents – especially the combination of space to wander and wonder, and punchy dance that hits like a truck. I’ll leave you with a moment that made me laugh out loud: a dancer is slowly leaving the stage walking and doing a slow-mo wave at the audience with a half, wry smile. Reminiscent of a Disney parade. There’s lots of other things happening concurrently, so attention is momentarily elsewhere. Said dancer continues, the hand is lowered and then raised again numerous times to continue the contrived exit. At one point the wave becomes a middle finger ‘F**k Off’, yet nothing else changes… same speed, same smile, same exiting agenda. And it’s all just perfect. A combination of hey, fuck you, and ciao. Loves it.

Matthew Paluch Guest Author

Matthew Paluch was awarded a place at The Royal Ballet School in 1990 where he graduated in 1997. His first four years as a professional dancer were spent working with London City Ballet, Scottish Ballet, K-Ballet and English National Ballet, becoming a full-time member of ENB until leaving in 2006.

Matthew graduated from the Royal Academy of Dance, Professional Dancers’ Teaching Diploma in 2007, and was formerly on faculty at The Royal Ballet School. He completed his Masters in Ballet Studies at Roehampton University in 2011, has been a freelance writer since 2010 and currently works in the Law Sector.

He is a member of the Dance Section of The Critics’ Circle.