Extraordinary but unsettling: Christos Papadopoulos’ My Fierce Ignorant Step

Sadler’s Wells, London
November 13, 2026

For 55 minutes, the ten dancers of Christos Papadopoulos’ My Fierce Ignorant Step maintain an astonishing degree of precision, continually moving, changing positions and negotiating an intricate spatial structure without losing their collective rhythm. The technical demands they conquer lay not in individual virtuosity but in the extraordinary concentration, stamina and discipline required to sustain such absolute cohesion. Their achievement, together with Papadopoulos’ meticulous choreographic construction, fully deserved the standing ovation.

An intriguing aspect of the piece is that the dancers appear confined within their own invisible cube, itself enclosed by the grey-sided performance space, low lighting structure and ‘fourth wall’ of the auditorium. This sense of a cube within a cube reinforces that impression of containment rather than liberation.

My Fierce Ignorant Step is not a work I can honestly say that I enjoyed. It is visually and aurally challenging, at times deeply uncomfortable. Afterwards, I was very glad to be outside again, in the cold night air and the reassuring familiarity of the walk back to the station. It was as though I, too, had been released from that relentless, enclosed world.

Perhaps therein lies the work’s most extraordinary achievement. Whatever Papadopoulos intended, he has created an experience so immersive that its effects continue long after the performance ends.

And enjoyment is not the only measure of a theatrical experience, of course. My Fierce Ignorant Step is a work of extraordinary originality, one whose meticulous integration of choreography, music and performance creates something far greater than the sum of its parts. I may have experienced something very different from the hope and optimism Papadopoulos intended, but I cannot deny its remarkable impact.

Papadopoulos has established an international reputation for his distinctive, minimalist approach to dance. He describes My Fierce Ignorant Step as an attempt to recapture the fearless energy and optimism of youth, exploring how individual gestures become shared movement and how, through togetherness, we might rediscover hope as an act of resistance. It is an intriguing concept. Yet what I experienced was almost the complete opposite.

In that grey-sided performance space designed by Clio Boboti, the dancers begin with small, sharply synchronised head movements, accompanied by a relentless succession of clicks. Gradually, shoulders and arms join the movement, but the repetition continues, seemingly without end. Although the performers appear as individuals, there is no acknowledgement of each other’s presence. They move together with an almost robotic precision, as though compelled by some invisible force. Rather than suggesting the beginnings of collective liberation, I found the effect strangely dystopian. These were individuals seemingly trapped within a rigidly controlled formation, unable to escape its boundaries.

Slowly, movements become increasingly complex, incorporating turns, jumps and changes of direction. The dancers continually shift positions within the group, yet its overall formation remains intact. Occasionally there is a fleeting glance, a touch, briefly joined hands. These moments suggest not the emergence of a shared purpose, but a tentative recognition that others are caught within the same confinement. Their acknowledgement offers a momentary relief from the relentless monotony.

The original score by Kornilios Selamsis is equally remarkable. Beginning with those insistent clicks, it gradually accumulates layers of instrumental sound, including a deep, disturbing hum that I found almost physically uncomfortable. As new musical textures emerge, the sound becomes increasingly powerful and enveloping, drawing the audience into its pulsating rhythms. The dancers’ own wordless vocalisations eventually become another instrumental layer.

What is extraordinary is the relationship between music and movement. Each new musical layer seems to find its physical equivalent in the choreography. Nothing is discarded. Rather, everything accumulates. It is almost as though the music is being made visible, while the movement itself becomes something we can hear. The two are so intricately connected that it is difficult to imagine one existing without the other.

Yet this relationship also exposes the work’s greatest weakness. While the musical repetition remains interesting through its changing instrumentation, the choreographic repetition becomes increasingly difficult to sustain. The same movement patterns return again and again, merely acquiring additional physical elements. At times I found myself closing my eyes, retreating into the music to escape the relentless visual repetition.

The final section brings an almost frenetic intensity. Stefanos Drousiotis’ lighting introduces lightning-like flashes that illuminate both stage and auditorium, heightening the growing tumult of sound and movement. The dancers remain relentlessly synchronised, their energy apparently inexhaustible, until the work reaches its thunderous conclusion.

My Fierce Ignorant Step is unquestionably memorable It is an extraordinary work that challenges both the senses and the imagination. But it’s also uncomfortable and not an experience I would readily repeat.