Curve Theatre Leicester – until 20 June 2026
Reviewed by Leanne W
5*****
Matthew Bourne OBE’s The Car Man is one of those rare productions that feels alive from the moment you step into the theatre. Even before the show officially begins, the stage is already humming with activity, and that early spark sets the tone for a night that is bold, sexy, cinematic, and utterly gripping. Bourne’s reimagining of Bizet’s Carmen has always been one of his most daring works, but this revival feels especially confident — a polished, full‑throttle piece of dance theatre that earns its five stars with ease.
The story unfolds in the fictional Midwestern town of Harmony during the 1950s/60s, a place where sweat, grease, and small‑town frustration cling to every surface. Lez Brotherston’s garage‑and‑diner set is so atmospheric you can almost smell the oil and dust. Dancers drift across the stage as the audience arrives, accompanied by the low rumble of engines and the rhythmic grind of tools. It’s a clever way of pulling viewers straight into the world, long before the plot kicks in.
And then Luca arrives. A drifter with dangerous charisma, he strolls into Harmony and answers a “Man Wanted” sign at the garage. From that moment on, the town’s fragile balance begins to crack. Bourne leans into the noir influences here — the stranger who disrupts a community, the simmering sexual tension, the inevitable slide toward violence. What follows is a heady mix of lust, jealousy, betrayal, and revenge, told with the kind of visual flair that has become Bourne’s signature.
The score, built around Rodion Shchedrin’s 1967 Carmen Suite and expanded by Terry Davies, is another driving force. The familiar motifs from Bizet’s opera are still there, but they’re reworked into something darker, more percussive, and more cinematic. The music pulses beneath the choreography like a heartbeat, giving the production a constant sense of momentum. It’s dramatic without being overwhelming, and it blends beautifully with the mid‑century American setting.
The cast is exceptional across the board. Luca — danced by Will Bozier — has the kind of magnetism that makes it completely believable that an entire town would fall under his spell. Cordelia Braithwaite’s Lana is a perfect match for him: seductive, sharp, and simmering with ambition. Leonardo McCorkindale’s Angelo provides the emotional core of the show, delivering a heartbreaking transformation from awkward outsider to hardened survivor. Anna-Maria De Freitas brings a gentle sincerity to Rita, grounding the story with moments of genuine warmth.
Bourne’s choreography is as playful as it is provocative. There are scenes that drip with sensuality, moments of cheeky humour, and sequences that hit with real emotional force. The adults‑only reputation is well earned — there’s nudity, sex, violence and some very dark themes — but none of it feels gratuitous. Bourne handles the material with care, ensuring that every moment, no matter how shocking, serves the story and the characters.
One of the standout elements of this production is Chris Davey’s lighting, which does far more than illuminate the action. It intensifies it. Pools of neon light give the diner a seductive glow, while harsh, angled shadows turn the garage into a pressure cooker. During the more intimate scenes, the lighting softens into warm, hazy tones that make the air feel thick with desire. In moments of violence or confrontation, it snaps into sharp contrasts that heighten the danger. The lighting doesn’t just support the drama — it fuels it, adding to the heat and tension that define the entire show. A perfect example of set and light working in complete harmony.
The Car Man is a show that keeps you hooked from start to finish, blending high drama with irresistible style. By the time the final tragedy unfolds, the audience is left breathless, shaken by the destruction one man can bring to an entire community.
This revival is a five‑star triumph — stylish, steamy, and completely unmissable.