The Midnight Bell review, Sadler’s Wells: Matthew Bourne shows his gift for the drama of everyday gesture

Bourne develops his own world within Patrick Hamilton’s novels

Paris Fitzpatrick and Bryony Wood in ‘The Midnight Bell' (Johan Persson)

Seedy, furtive, yearning. Matthew Bourne’s new work weaves through the Soho of the 1930s. Out-of-work actors and cads rub shoulders with tweedy spinsters, all dreaming of love or escape or the next drink. Taking its characters from the novels of Patrick Hamilton, it’s a world of down-at-heel glamour and terrible life choices.

In some ways, it’s a return to Bourne’s roots, to smaller-scale works dissecting British attitudes to class and sex. He’s had worldwide success with big-name narratives, adapting and reinventing tales from Swan Lake with male swans to Cinderella in the Blitz. The Midnight Bell is all Bourne, drawing on Hamilton but developing his own story – his first since the wonderful Play Without Words in 2002. Once again, it shows his gift for the drama of everyday gesture, revealing hope and repression through the way his characters move.

The Midnight Bell is the pub where the characters meet. Lez Brotherston’s fluid designs whisk us through London. A foggy skyline and grubby Georgian windows evoke the narrow alleys and boarding houses of Fitzrovia. The costumes are pitch perfect, from the barmaid’s demurely cut dress to the actor’s wide slacks and jaunty beret. The music mixes a new jazz score by Terry Davies with snatches of period song, allowing the characters to open up, revealing their fantasies as they lip-sync and dream.

At first, The Midnight Bell feels like a mood piece. Early scenes could have more narrative drive. But then the stories start to flow, emerging from the crowd. Michela Meazza’s spinster falls into bed with Glenn Graham’s cad, their bodies sliding into shared focus. When she discovers he’s taken money from her purse, she can’t bear to give him up. As a chorus boy and his new lover, Liam Mower and Andrew Monaghan mix ardour and plausible deniability. Hands touch thighs, limbs intertwine, but a kiss is too much.

The cast of ‘The Midnight Bell' (Johan Persson)

Period drama can mean period attitudes. Bourne follows Hamilton in showing a character with schizophrenia who falls hopelessly for an actress and fantasises about killing her. Richard Winsor is heartfelt, but the mix of violence and mental illness is poorly judged.

Bourne sets up variations on the theme of loneliness and longing, from wit to heartbreak. As the different duets overlap, he knows exactly how to direct your eye so that the stories enhance each other, building a richer picture. The 10 dancers, all established members of Bourne’s company, New Adventures, are beautifully in tune with his style. Moments sing out: a man pressing his face to his estranged lover’s shoulder, a waitress straightening her skirt before wheeling the cake trolley. Every movement tells a story.

Matthew Bourne’s ‘The Midnight Bell’ runs at Sadler’s Wells Theatre until 9 October