RUSSIAN prima-ballerina Natalia Osipova – who is currently a principal dancer with the Royal Ballet in London – is recognised universally as one of the greatest dancers on the planet. Indeed, there are those who consider her to be one of the finest dancers ever to grace the classical western tradition.

It is remarkable, therefore, that Osipova – whose exquisite skill and precision is equalled by her capacities for innovative risk and soul shuddering passion – is not content to express her extraordinary talent purely through ballet, choosing instead to engage in a series of experimental, contemporary dance-theatre projects. The dancer’s work straddles the worlds of classical and contemporary dance with apparent comfort; making the important point (or, on occasion, lack of pointe) that there is no need for a wall between the two traditions.

The contemporary strand in the Russian ballerina’s oeuvre was exemplified, in December 2018, by the world premiere – at the Edinburgh International Conference Centre (EICC) – of The Mother, renowned Portuguese-South African choreographer/director Arthur Pita’s unforgettable production inspired by the graphic novella Storia Di Una Madre (Story Of A Mother) by the Italian artist AkaB (which, in turn, was based upon a story by Hans Christian Andersen).

She returned to the EICC late last month (for two nights only) with another world premiere of a contemporary dance piece. Carmen, created by celebrated Dutch choreographer Didy Veldman, is a very 21st-century take on Bizet’s famous opera of that name.

Collaborating with composer Dave Price and video artist Oleg Mikhailov, the director has re-imagined the story of the eponymous Romani beauty (which was originally penned as a novella by the French author Prosper Mérimée) as a modern drama-within-a-drama. In a contemporary, European city, during the making of a film, a fatal love rectangle develops between Carmen (Osipova), José (Jason Kittelberger), Escamillo (Isaac Hernández) and Michaela (Hannah Ekholm) – with the ever-present cameraman (danced by Eryck Brahmania) filming almost constantly.

When Osipova’s film star character isn’t in front of a movie camera, her every public move, whether on the red carpet or her own doorstep, is accompanied by the clicking cameras of the paparazzi. The oppressiveness of this fame is reflected, not only in a remarkable, lonely solo dance by the great ballerina, but also by a brilliant piece of video work by Mikhailov in which (early cinema-style) multiple eyes appear to be gazing at Carmen from the very walls.

Michaela’s sense of powerlessness and jealousy regarding Carmen’s power over her lover, José, is given resonating expression in a duet between Ekholm and Osipova in which the former makes a desperate and heart-rending plea to female solidarity (and one that is all the more affecting for its inevitable and crushing futility).

The mundane minimalism of the set contrasts starkly both with Carmen’s costume (a sumptuous and sensual combination of red and black velvet) and the savage symbolism of the meat hooks on which various costumes are arranged. The lighting (by Ben Ormerod) is also stunningly creative, not least in the moments when we are suddenly transported from the main performance space to the micro-dramas that are unexpectedly revealed in private rooms. Price’s score (which plays upon Bizet, jazz and numerous other popular musics) is a thing of diverse beauty. It is unerringly complementary to Veldman’s dynamic, erotically charged movement.

One understands the logic of the brutal suddenness of the piece’s conclusion, but this choreography deserves more of the anguished dance of death between Carmen and José. Nonetheless, this is an excellent work which is set alight by the technical brilliance and the astounding emotional range of Osipova’s dancing.