As Varmints opens, there’s stage smoke, moody edgy music, and a yellow coated fella on stage. Enigmatic changes of light turn the world green and verdant; there’s birdsong, and a dawning beauty like the wonder of daybreak. The first character is joined by three more. Who are they? Creatures? Explorers? Not knowing the story, nor who they are, I’m intrigued to follow the characters as they, inquisitive and anxious, respond to their environment.Varmints is a dance-theatre show for people over eight years old, based on the book by Helen Ward and Marc Craste.

Choreographed by B-boy Wilkie Branson and directed by Sally Cookson the piece has elegant, punchy dance movement and a well paced story. Soon wheels are rolled on – big truck wheels that roll up and remove the green turf, and menacingly, in slow motion, roll over our creatures. One of the characters saves one small plant, just one shoot. The greenery turns to grey and car tyres muck up the rear wall projection. We see images of mechanical and robotic processes as the land is taken over by the relentless tide of industrialisation. A little island, a shrine to nature, is all that’s left – fragile yet with fortitude against the encroaching threat.

Varmints is both dynamic and sensitive, with a great full-bodied soundscape and magnificent design, set and lighting. The rear projections work in perfect tandem with the movable set of pipes and wheels, and the show is atmospheric and vital, telling a story of hope and regeneration, the eternity and invincibility of nature, and the necessity of living in balance. It’s intelligent, mesmerising to look at, never for a moment patronising, and shot through with top quality dance.