Man Dance

I've always been a little suspicious of choreographic attempts to define masculinity. They have become very popular in the last few years - the natural reaction, perhaps, of the dancer's ambiguity about their masculinity against more stereotypical male roles, like the sportsman. Personally, I got over any ideas that dancers weren't tough guys the first time I saw the Bolshoi Ballet, and read about Baryshinkov's sexual conquests.

There's inevitably plenty of fighting and peacocking, and the only reason that both The Chinaski Sessions and 12 Dancers don't annoy me beyond measure is that they both have good excuses for taking the male as subject. Between them, the two pieces employed most of the male dancers associated with Scotland and although there are those predictable play-fights (yes, you can lift each other. Well done), they manage to go a little deeper.

The Chinaski Sessions is choreographed by a woman, Kylie Walters, which at least means that this is an outsider's view of masculinity. It uses the avatar of Charles Bukowski to see whether all that pizza-eating, jockeying for position and showing off can be creative. The interaction between the five dancers, including Jack Webb, exhibiting a genuine charisma away from his solo pieces and pretend drunk lout Michael Sherin, and the band I Love Sarah is frequently boorish and thuggish but the climax, which pictures a lads' night out in hideous detail, reveals Walter's talent for exposing character through deft, precise movements.

12 Dancers is the result of Andy Howitt's campaign to bring together a gang of male dancers who represent the various stages of the dancer's career. He is not afraid to pull the older guys on stage - Ian Spink has been better known as a choreographer for the past thirty years, and Peter Royston, having once been with Scottish Ballet, has moved into dance development in Perth. The costumes - suits, these boys are a jury and in their court-room best - add to the cast's gravitas. It's a shock when Allan Irvine busts a few b-boy moves.

Despite the inevitable ruckus, which does look a bit like a primary school lunch-break, 12 Dancers does a good job of using the various scenes to illustrate conflict through dance without it turning into hand-bags at dawn. Telling the classic story about that one time the jury had its mind changed by one man, the narrative is simple and direct. The men argue, through dance, and eventually agree that the defendant is not guilty.

Howitt's ambitious choreography pulls together the various techniques of his 12 men. Daniel Aing brings Capoeira from Marseilles, Malcolm Shields seems to come from a more physical theatre place. Unsurprisingly, Matthew Hawkins is a constant presence, his balletic precision married to an arch enthusiasm. As the piece develops, the different techniques are thrust cheek by jowl and are merged into something approaching an integrated style. If the younger dancers tend to be more emphatic and showy, the seriousness of the older men lends the performance weight.

Masculinity is only half of the story - where Walters adds the idea of creativity, Howitt slams in justice. The narrative is simple enough not to get lost- despite it not always being clear who is arguing for what - and the spectacle of 12 skilled dancers piling around the stark set is frequently comic or impressive. Perhaps more than the content, or even the attempt to juxtapose different dance styles, 12 Dancers is a spectacle, and a one stop guide to Scotland's male dance community.

Except for Tony Mills, who is in Russia. And the cast of The Chinaski Sessions. And Tommy Small and Tom Pritchard, who are doing their show on Friday. There's quite a few male dancers in Scotland.

That might explain why masculinity tends to be a topic, but I haven't seen female choreographers feed a similar need to deconstruct the feminine. True, Curious Seed did have an entry in the Fringe called The Woman Who Wants To Be Funny but that was as much about comedy as it was about gender.

I did grow up around dancers, and the thing I remember most is not how they were compromised in their masculinity, but that they had loads of women flocking to them. I think I got picked on a bit at school, but that wasn't because I got caught wearing my ballet tights. I was an irritating egg-head who liked Latin.