Rambert Dance Theatre, Lyceum Theatre, Sheffield

Modern dance is full of violent choreography, extreme steps slammed out at the audience. Fin Walker's new Reflection for Rambert Dance Company is forceful enough to be another of these dances, but it isn't aggressive. The steps are tugged, not walloped. It's an arrested dance, always switching from full force to a blunt stop. The Rambert dancers seethe and break out with confident energy.

The music is by Ben Park, the co-director of Walker Dance Park Music. His score starts with a scribbling solo violin, then brings in rock drums with high-hat cymbal, French horn and cello. It's all transitions, and the players of London Music, Rambert's associate orchestra, have fun working their way from one phrase to the next.

Walker's dance stops and starts around the music. She groups the dancers into huddled lines, all holding hands. One yanks the next into movement - a tug shifting them from one position to another, or out into a series of steps. It's domino-effect choreography, knotted muscular movement carried down the line.

The solos are just as convulsive. Robin Gladwin, Clemmie Sveaas and Thomasin Gulgec plunge into fast kicks and twists, turning back on themselves in clipped movement. It's not a reflective piece, though Lucy Carter's backdrop makes good use of changing, reflected light. Walker keeps returning to the same ideas, without change of mood or design. But her steps have a compacted force, and Rambert dance with emphatic attack.

Rafael Bonachela's Linear Remains is more fluid and more conventional. Christian Fennesz's music is sampled vinyl crackle, an ambient background. The dancers swing into high extensions, thrust and circled hips. It's all smoothly danced, the phrasing long and sure, the dancers athletic and assured. It doesn't become individual: the dancers look good, but you don't remember soloists or steps.

Hans Van Manen describes his Visions Fugitives as pure dance, sketches to a string arrangement of Prokofiev piano studies. It begins with a duet and ends with a murder: in the final part, Paul Liburd throttles Maika Ramos. Their duet, like the rest of this dance, is full of high-stepping feet and winding arms, but he keeps grabbing her throat and she keeps pulling his hands away. It's odd, and it goes against the grain of the music.

Rambert are a repertory company, dancing sleekly in a range of styles. Their first choreographer was Frederick Ashton, who was born a hundred years ago. Rambert's centenary celebrations include a revival of Five Brahms Waltzes in the Manner of Isadora Duncan, based on Ashton's memories of the great modern dancer.

Ashton's Isadora scatters rose petals, plays knucklebones, runs across the stage with a length of chiffon. In all this, he shows you Isadora's power in the sculptured force of those skips and runs. Lucila Alves is a very direct Isadora, never blurring that impression of strength and impact.

Touring to 17 June (www.rambert.org.uk)