a flawed and fascinating high-wire act

What is it with Frenchmen and heights? In 2008, Man on Wire –  the documentary about Philippe Petit’s petrifying, transcendent 1974 walk between the Twin Towers – raised the world’s blood pressure alarmingly, as did The Walk, Robert Zemeckis’s 2015 dramatisation of the same event. Now comes Parisian company Chaillot – Théâtre national de la Danse, aiming to quicken our collective pulses afresh with the UK premiere of Corps extrêmes.

An hour straight through, with a cast of about 10 or so marshalled by choreographer Rachid Ouramdane, the piece is largely a showcase for daredevil “slackliner” Nathan Paulin and, to a slightly lesser extent, rock-climbers Nina Caprez (who appears on film) and Ann Raber Cocheril (whom we get in person).

The first 20 minutes are given over to footage of Paulin crossing some head-spinningly high gorge, beamed on to the climbing wall that spans the entire rear of the stage. In voiceover, he tells us about the transcendent joys of his métier, and then appears in person on a line loosely strung (hence the name of his chosen sport) between left and right wings, 20 feet up. He appears as tranquil as you or I might standing on a beach, basking in the sun and looking far out to sea.

Later, Cocheril appears, also solo, along with some remarkable footage of Caprez, so that they appear to be climbing together. Although, one can only assume, entirely human – and, like Paulin, rhapsodising in voiceover – she negotiates the wall, and darts between its tiny “holds”, with the ease of a particularly gym-honed gecko. Her movements amount to a strange, rather poetic kind of vertical dance, and are surprisingly beautiful.

The rest of the piece is given over to the formidable Chaillot acrobats, who get up to all manner of gravity-scorning antics in what comes across as a lyrical combination of high-stakes circus and an elaborate “trust” exercise. Again, the often gasp-inducing insouciance with which they make three-person-high towers, hurl themselves and each other into the air, on to and off both the wall and off each other’s shoulders, is quite marvellous. At times, it’s as if they’ve genuinely forgotten where the ground is.

Where the piece falls down – so to speak – is in its over-flogging of each section, a sense of heard-it-all-before with those rapt voiceovers, and above all in being oddly unsure how to work Paulin into the main action. For too much of this flawed, fascinating show, he is merely, disappointingly, perched up on his wire like some exotic, solitary bird – even if that, you might in fairness argue, is almost exactly what he is.

Until May 24. Tickets (returns only): 020 7863 8000; sadlerswells.com