Jerome Bel's The Show Must Go On is not so much a dance show as a show about dance. Its conventions, constructions, its expected forms, are mostly stripped away.

When Douglas Wright sets his stage with a big grey wall, it's a wall with an enigmatic, palpable life of its own.

Rajendra Prasanna comes from generations of Indian master musicians. On Tuesday, thanks to him and his three colleagues, a rapt audience fell under the spell of a music in which time itself seemed almost to stand still.

The 42 Indian musicians of The Manganiyar Seduction work their wiles in the glare of red and light-bulbs, piled up in a grid inspired by Amsterdam's red-light district.

Martha Wainwright describes her look as "ageless" - she is poised on the stage dressed like a school-girl with hair all wispy like her grandmother's.

Maguy Marin's landmark work, celebrating 30 feted years of continuous performance, begins with the sculptured forms of its ten dancers, posed in dusty alabaster-like desertion.

They may have swept us away with Handel and Purcell last week, but Lautten Compagney's Tuesday cocktail of Merula and Glass was altogether less enticing.

Teatro de Los Andes, based in Bolivia, offered to stage their "earthquake play" here instead of La Odisea, but were turned down for logistical reasons.

If you are looking for a show that is funny and uplifting, it is unlikely that you would settle on something that has interminable and suicide in its title.

The stage is dark with just the faint gleam of drum kit, sita, cello, violin and four seated musicians.