Jérôme Bel's surreal show, The Last Performance, was an appropriate antidote to a perplexing gala. He makes you question what on earth you are watching. His admirably deadpan cast informs the audience that they are, or are not, Jérôme Bel, André Agassi, Hamlet or Susanne Linke, whose desolate choreography they dutifully repeat. Claire Haenni, a good dancer, is no tennis player; Frédéric Seguette, who hits a mean ball, is no Hamlet. The performance should go on for ever instead of just an hour.