Hang Time, Marikiscrycrycry

Last Updated on October 30, 2026

An Intense Dance Piece About Men and Grief

4.0 out of 5.0 stars

Seven young men with seemingly inexhaustible energy, bound onto the stage at The Place, and for the best part of one hour they will power through strange, intense rituals that point to experiences of grief, individual pain and transitory collective joy. This is Hang Time, the latest work by choreographer Malik Nashad Sharpe, aka Marikiscrycrycry, which had its UK premiere at The Place, following outings in theatres in Germany and Denmark, co-commissioners of Hang Time together with The Place.

Malik Nashad Sharpe works across a huge variety of media, including dance, theatre, film and music, and he draws from the specifics of each one to create his own complex world. Hang Time explores the space of an empty stage, its margins offering subsidiary areas where little things happen even while most of the action is on the stage proper; it uses Barnaby Booth’s lighting design in a cinematic manner to illuminate and obscure, to create diverse moods and cast shadows.

Principally, Hang Time is built through contemporary dance moves with thrilling balletic accents, loosely framed by a musical score that blends the sound of industrial machinery with music from the Caribbean – soca (soul of Calypso) and bouyon – and later Deep South soul music. And what exciting dancers all these young men are! Proficient movers, they know how to instil meaning and emotion in every step, so that, diffuse as the narrative is, your attention never flags.

Through its multi-ethnic cast, Hang Time draws from Black and Caribbean histories and lived experience, specifically in masculine communities. Its very first scene shows one man having his hair braided- braids and cornrows, we’re told, are symbols of protection and connection within a community where vulnerability is not always well regarded. Ensemble pieces have an energetic, devil-may-care feel, where the men enjoy togetherness and show off to each other.

At times, though, one or two peel off from the crowd and seem to withdraw into themselves; grief brings about mental collapse, and fear, perhaps, of what the crowd might think. The dancers mark these transitions with tremendous sensitivity, their very expressive bodies curling in on themselves, or trying to find an ever more precarious balance in an unsustainable position. Sitting on the sidelines, one man breaks into silent, uncontrollable sobs, but nobody is alone for too long, and there are some very moving moments of mutual support and love.

Hang Time has a recurring theme of absence, asking what remains when someone disappears. At intervals, a woman’s voice cuts across the music, in an ever more frantic “where are you?” message left by a mother on a phone that is never answered. She gets no answer, and neither do we.

The movement itself is varied, with the dancers forming all manner of different ensembles – now the full cast face on, now a diagonal line of three moving in perfect unison, and there is a clever build-up of tension and intensity in the overall shape of the work. I found that as it slowed down to the scratchy sound of an old blues song, I felt as if I was awakening from a deep dream – not a nightmare, but a somehow suspended state. Hang Time‘s narrative is not always easy to follow if you’re not part of the community portrayed; however, Malik Nashad Sharpe knows how to punch an audience in the gut. Hang Time‘s impact is undeniable.

Hang Time is at The Place 29 – 31 October at 7.30 pm
Dur.: 60 mins. Tickets: £22 (concessions available)

The Place
17 Duke’s Road
London WC1H 9PY

For further dance suggestions, check out our London Dance Previews – July to December 2026