Xiao-Xiong Zhang plays himself in Leigh Warren's Not According to Plan. Picture: Tony Lewis Source: Supplied DANCE Not According to Plan. Leigh Warren Dance Space Theatre, Adelaide. September 20. HOW do you tell a man's life story in dance? Ever adventurous, Leigh Warren does just this for Cambodian-born, Chinese-educated dancer and teacher Xiao-Xiong Zhang. Now a grey-bearded 55, Zhang appears as himself in this attractive, engaging, hour-long work that includes spoken and sung text, some in Chinese (surtitles would help). Master furniture designer Khai Liew's three-dimensional set is first seen as a white landscape with a mesa downstage right, a hill opposite, a volcanic peak back centre. Zhang is sitting on the hill, contemplating two figures - his students, male dancer Chien Wei Wu and female Yuan-Li Wang - covered in long black and dark red veils. He moves to the mesa, and as Rebecca Jones enters in a long red and black tunic, one of the earliest sounds you hear on Jerome Kugan's excellent soundscape is rain. When she is joined by Aidan Munn, in similar costume, the work gains a sudden lift with their sensitive duet, bodies entwining and embracing. The white floorcloth is drawn back, revealing the mesa as an oval table designed by Liew, the hills as hessian covered drums or tightly packed cushions. This first part, Bloodlines, is followed by Dreamscape, which depicts memories of events, one of which is Zhang joining his mother and sister who had come to Adelaide, and his decision to become a dancer. In a particularly fine passage, he dances with Wu, their bodies moving in flexible harmony, building to a fast climax. Then, to the sound of a lyrical violin, Jones and Wang have an emotional duet, anguish, perhaps even grief, expressed especially through arm and upper torso movement. A third section, Beauty, contains the most beautiful and tender part of the whole work, as Zhang dances with Wang - movement that is fluent and solicitous. Lovely as it is, Wang's solo here is a little too long. A later duet for Munn and Zhang is athletic, lively and joyous, with fast supported turns and lifts, belying those 55 years. For the finale, the soloists return, each now with a long, voluminous veil, all four dextrously twirling and swirling their cloths with a kind of triumphant reverence as they move towards the audience, Zhang up behind them on one of the drums, arms raised. Alistair Trung's muted tinted costumes for the soloists, mostly long, contrast with Zhang's short grey tunic and pants, and Geoff Cobham's ingenious lighting washes the stage with tones that reflect emotions being expressed and at times creates spectacular half rings of solid colour around the dancers, contributing an extra dimension to another satisfying Leigh Warren creation.