Sadler’s Wells never disappoints. Its shows often reach the pinnacle of “great”, and if not great, they are always, in a multitude of different ways, interesting. Hip-hop not being a dance form I’m particularly familiar with, I didn’t quite know what to expect when we arrived at the theatre for the main show of Breaking Convention 2026.
Breaking Convention is an annual hip-hop festival, founded by Artistic Director Jonzi D. This year’s programme included a main show, dance-offs, graffiti, artwork, and numerous workshops over three days. The Sadler’s Wells audience, like most UK theatre audiences, is usually predominantly white and middle-aged or older. It was refreshing, then, to see the venue bursting at the seams with so many young people, and so many young Black audience members. The stalls had been cleared so that people could stand—and, one assumes, dance if the urge took them. If this had been an outdoor gig, the energy might have been electric. Contained within walls, it didn’t quite reach that level, but it was still impressively high.
Then, centre stage, stormed Jonzi D—a spark to light the fuse. As both Artistic Director and the evening’s MC, he set the tone, joined by Vanessa Brant, who provided British Sign Language interpretation throughout.
The show began with Emma Houston, tumbling across five chairs set on stage. Great comedians remind us how much artistry lies in appearing to get things wrong. Then she straightened and revealed just how accomplished a dancer she is when playing it straight. There were gags—mostly political, mostly funny—and a false ending that felt quaint and delightful.
Next came Kaner Flex, a remarkable duo whose bodies intertwined and overlapped like the statues of Indian gods—though without their softness. Here, everything was lean, almost architectural. The shapes they created, in their vigour and intensity, recalled for me the work of Francis Bacon.
Joseph Toonga’s piece closed the first half. Jonzi D explained it had originally been conceived for three women and one man, but here was performed by four women—a change he felt made it more powerful. The choreography began with familiar hip-hop vocabulary before shifting into something darker. The dancers raised their hands as if imprisoned, broke free, then returned again to submission. The political became personal when each of them cried out: “Do you see me?”
The second half featured the equally compelling Compagnia Bellanda, presenting their interpretation of La Dolce Vita. The evening concluded with the high-energy American breakdance group Rock Force Crew.
Bodies joined, bodies battled, bodies arranged themselves into astonishing shapes simply because they could. Bodies searched for connection—sometimes unable to give or receive comfort or love. With very few words spoken, the show nonetheless told many stories.
The lighting—with its familiar use of smoke and framing—and the music, by turns soft, screeching, and dissonant, were both on top form.
A strange evening—but a beautiful one.