Rambert and (LA)HORDE’s large-scale takeover of the Southbank Centre is nothing short of epic in scale. Across six floors of the Royal Festival Hall and three floors of the Queen Elizabeth Hall, audiences are invited into a maze of artistry comprising 15 live dance performances, nine films, and two installations.

Unlike immersive experiences such as Punchdrunk, the building continues to function as a public space, with bars and kitchens in operation, meaning the in-between moments can lack atmosphere, but with the compensation of always readily being able to grab some food or drink. A map handed out at the start becomes a crucial guide. At first, it may seem confusing; however, it soon turns into an incentive to catch everything and tick each performance off along the way.

For those familiar with Rambert and (LA)HORDE’s recent work in London, much of the material here will feel recognisable. This is both a strength and a limitation. As collaborators and individual companies, their output is eclectic, often sharing a stylistic language but not always a clear overarching concept. Some performances arguably retain greater impact on a traditional stage, but the proximity here allows for new perspectives as viewers can appreciate the intricacy and detail of the choreography in a way that feels intimate.

The structure particularly benefits the interplay between dance and film. Installations combining projection with live performance stand out, offering striking contrasts depending on their setting. Cult’s/Baptêmes, staged in the Royal Festival Hall, transforms the space as audiences enter directly onto the stage, looking out onto a huge, suspended projection of festival dance scenes over the auditorium seats. This is brought to life by the hall’s grand organ and performers we have seen on screen appearing to weave through the seats. This large-scale spectacle is offset by the intimacy of Novacieries in the Queen Elizabeth Hall basement, where warehouse scenes are projected as a backdrop to a faceless raving dancer. The combination of which resonates powerfully within the Brutalist style.

Among the installations, highlights include a graffitied limousine on the Riverside Terrace, as nearby, performers scrawl “tomorrow is cancelled” onto the floor before it is erased by an industrial cleaner. The industrial cleaner, being a feature later echoed in a separate film installation, reveals unexpected interconnections between pieces. A recurring pleasure lies in recognising the same dancers across different performances, weaving continuity into the experience.

In Liminal Space, audiences cover their phone cameras with stickers before witnessing an intimate cycle of vulnerability. Performers gradually undress, exploring shifting power dynamics with tenderness and honesty, emblematic of (LA)HORDE’s fearless approach to sexuality.

Yet, as ever, the choreography remains the true star. Timed performances sometimes create a sense of racing to catch it all. Those who do are rewarded with gems like Us in the Queen Elizabeth Hall which is a moving duet that strips dance to its essentials, reminding us how simplicity can resonate as deeply as multimedia spectacle. Staying until the finale brings the full company together in a euphoric celebration, encapsulating the spirit of the entire project.

Not without its flaws, the logistics of navigating spaces and the absence of a clear overarching concept occasionally hinder the experience. Nonetheless, the artistry, ambition and innovation on display make We Should Have Never Walked On The Moon a remarkable achievement. It’s an expansive, celebratory journey through the collaborative brilliance of Rambert and (LA)HORDE.

Runs until 6 September 2025

The Reviews Hub Star Rating

90%

Epic cross-discipline collaboration