Joaquin Cortes calls himself a flamenco dancer and he trained as one but what he really is is a business whiz. With so-so talent and waning charisma, Cordoba-born Cortes persuades large numbers of people to part with their cash. In droves they queue to see his shows, buy his DVDs, and wear his celebrity fragrance. It’s a marketing-led revenue generation model of which London Business School would be proud but it leaves flamenco fans weeping into their sangria.

You’ll probably think this is flamenco snobbery and wonder what’s wrong with a little rock ’n’ roll flamenco fusion. Why worry if it’s not authentic, as long as Cortes looks good and flirts in spades. Not everyone wants flamenco’s passions and pain. Well, it does matter because his latest solo show Unleashed is just not very good. The lighting is dull and the musicians awry, although one of the female singers shakes her bosom with considerable appeal. You wish Cortes had the same allure, let alone her flamenco joie de vivre.

Actually, Cortes doesn’t really dance. He has stamina and athleticism but it’s a pose and a pout. He stamps his feet, only with nothing like the fevered friction his publicity suggests. At 40, Cortes’s body looks stiff with none of flamenco’s curve. Indeed, there is nothing luxuriant about him, and nothing rings true. It’s as if he’s trying to be the torrid sex god of his publicity, with designer stubble and designer threads, but is bored with the indiscriminate squealing it brings.

Unleashed is meant to be a wild, untamed show. However, it reminds you that whatever sexy panache Cortes once had has long since become parody.
Tonight only (0844 482 8008, roundhouse.org.uk).