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Lost in the Wind has a clear narrative: a traveller stumbles upon a small tribe and spends some time observing their strange, immature customs. He decides to move on, only to succumb to a sudden snow storm. For most of the piece, the tension between the traveller’s seriousness and the tribe’s playfulness offers light, charming comedy: it is only when they accept his intentions, and he sympathises with their childishness, that his journey can continue.

The company make stunning use of props- a balloon comes to symbolise frailty and fun and hope; newspapers become a monster of rubbish; plastic tubing shapes an amorous partner to the dance. There is Monty Pythonesque cross-dressing and mumbling and an overwhelming good humour. The confident structure allows the relationships to unfold gradually, so that the final tragedy- although a sudden shift of pace- is not jarring but subtle. Having been prepared for a character’s death by a frail puppet’s earlier climb against wind and storm, the traveller’s gradual burial beneath the snow- shredded paper blown by a wind machine- is quietly upsetting.

Lost Spectacles come from the same Bristol school that birthed Precarious, another young physical theatre company. Precarious seem intent on making a big statement with their Factory: Lost Spectacles do make huge statements, only by being thoughtful and charming. And this really is a work that can entertain all ages.

Skutr are part of the Czech Festival. They are far closer to contemporary dance, even though they do speak directly to the audience, conjuring up a country cottage through words and mime. Their story is simple. It might be a dream, or a symbolic wake for a grandfather. Diverse characters- a businessman, a bride, a childish woman and a senile man- are brought together. Around a huge table, they dance and argue, falling in and out of love and mapping their relationship to the dead man through each other.

Once again, a gentle subtlety lifts this piece out of the ordinary. In the rapid shifts between characters- considerable emotional ground is covered in under an hour- passions are delineated in intricate detail. Two sets of lovers meet and celebrate their love, before their characters erode their connection. Men set off for war, full of macho confidence: the women are left behind to weep. Traditional songs weave through the stories, sensual and rowdy. Sudden bursts of frantic double bass trigger frantic dance.

The Weepers is short, sweet and allusive. It engages with the complex emotions of mourning, the knee-jerk reactions and the moments of understanding. It offers no answers- just contemplation, an assemblage of thoughts and possibilities.

Works like these do not offer an alternative to more overtly choreographed pieces. They do stretch the definition of dance, and offer strategies to infuse performance with meaning and connection.