David Parker took a nutcracker to “The Nutcracker.” And then he and The Bang Group sprinkled it with some seasonal magic to unspool the most irreverent and delightfully amusing take on the holiday classic.
 
His “Nut/Cracked,” now being presented at Kaatsbaan Cultural Park, is for all of those who love Tchaikovsky’s beloved score, but run out of patience with the ballet’s formality 30-minutes in. This is not to say that Parker and crew are disrespectful of the annual dance extravaganza. Rather, they put a humorous and often surprising spin on “The Nutcracker.” It’s deliciously, laugh-out-loud decadent.
 
It was created in 2003 as a genre and dance-fluid celebration that tapped, boureed and leaped to the jazzy rendering by Duke Ellington and Glenn Miller of the familiar music. However, much of the piece, which is about 70 minutes long, is guided by the music as written. And Parker, and co-director Jeffrey Kazin, cheerfully nod to Marius Petipa choreography – even in their off-kilter and hilarious versions of the scenes.
 
The waltz for the snowflakes is a good example. The dancers, white Ts and black stripped sports pants throughout, moved like skaters who slipped, slid and fell on the snowy ice. Not only does it add a slapstick element, which could be seen throughout, but it was so artfully done that it spiced up the choreography.
 
The piece began with Parker and Kazin tapping out and singing (lyrics they must have written) to the score’s overture. The dancers then burst from the wings to gather up the props for the show – a boa, a rose, hats, gloves and red bouquets.
 
Then it became clear that the score would be delectably tossed about when the dance of the Sugarplum, on a dark stage, came next. All that one could see was the feet of a dancer en pointe whose toes were following a miniature spotlight.
 
The stage went black again, ready for the party to begin. It cleverly did with two – like the feuding siblings Clara and Fritz – who twisted themselves around a gift, which when ultimately opened contained snow.
 
Though the order of the music was re-arranged, it didn’t matter as there were so many charming and hilarious moments – for example Parker’s rendition of the Chinese divertissement where he balances en pointe and sucks up a noodle from a cardboard food box. Just as the music ends, the noodle pops in his mouth.
 
The waltz of the flowers is a hysterical solo on bubble wrap, the growing Christmas tree crescendo is a burlesque-like wet dream and the Russian trepak is a parody of all amateur dance productions ever. The grand pas is a celebration of thumb-sucking affection. You have to see it to believe it.
 
It was ridiculously foolish and I loved it. You will too. Sunday’s matinee is sold out, but tonight’s 7 p.m. performance has tickets available at kaatsbaan.org.

Talmi Entertainment performed Tchaikovsky's "The Nutcracker" on Wednesday at The Palace Theatre in Albany. 

If you have seen one “Nutcracker,” you have not seen them all.
 
The ballet delight of the holiday season has a template, for sure, guided by Tchaikovsky. It opens with a holiday party where young girl receives a nutcracker doll as a Christmas gift. After the festivities, she slumbers and falls into a romantic reverie with her nutcracker who transforms into a prince. But it’s always in that coming-of-age dream, envisioned by the girl (often named Clara, sometimes Marie), where the classic diverges.
 
Talmi Entertainment (formerly known as the Moscow Ballet) offered a glittering rendering on Wednesday night at the Palace Theatre. Its lush palatal backdrops (by Berkshire designer Carl Sprague), gold lame trimmed costumes (designed by Arthur Oliver) and fine capable dancers, many Ukrainian, offered up plenty of eye candy to the crowd. And the house was packed, thanks to the horde of local children who were cast in nearly every scene – including those in the round-the-world divertissements, scenes typically reserved for the professionals.
 
The production, choreographed by Viktor Davyduik, also casts dreamy Clara with an adult dancer. It's a good thing as in her mind-bending journey, she also appears as the Snow Queen and the Sugarplum Fairy. It’s a tall order for any dancer to play multiple roles that span the entire ballet. Karyna Shatkovskaya pulled it off with aplomb – traveling through the first act as a wide-eyed child excited for Christmas and ending as a mature woman of confidence and style as the commanding Sugarplum.

Her Nutcracker Prince, danced by Rustem Imangaliev, while courtly couldn’t match her calm. His tours en air had momentum and height, but his landings were dangerously off-kilter. The audience braced for a potential hard fall every time he launched himself into the sky.
 
The stars of the evening were Aiya Melis and Rafael Urazov who dance the Arabian variation, but also made an appearance at the first act party as wind-up Moorish dolls and at the opening of the second act as the doves of peace. Davyduik obviously wanted to capitalize on their appeal. However, he shouldn’t have bothered, as their awe-inspiring strength – body-bending lifts and acrobatics — didn’t reveal themselves until their last appearance in the Arabian dance.
 
Davyduik also wanted to take advantage of the potential for parents, grandparents and siblings to buy tickets by casting a throng of children in nearly every scene. While adorable, especially those who danced around and in front of the snowflake fairies, it was also distracting and detracting.  That was particularly the case in the second act where most of the real dancing happens. But it was hard to see the professionals with cute kids clustered at the rim of the stage blocking the audience’s view.
 
It's unclear why Davyduik didn’t use the children for the Mother Ginger portion of the dance, which is generally where “Nutcracker” choreographers cast their tiniest dancers. In this production, there was no Mother Ginger. Davyduik used the music instead to unite the Chinese, French, Arabian, Spanish and Russian (here dubbed Folkloric) couples in a friendly pas de dix.
 
Regardless, of all the many “The Nutcracker” ballets happening in the Capital Region, this remains one of the best for both production designs and strong dancing.
 
Finally, producers were wise to remove all references to Russia in the name of the company and in the ballet. Americans can't abide or support Russian treachery in Ukraine. However, art has the power to unite. I hope and pray it will.

Merriam Webster defines catenary as “the curve assumed by a cord of uniform density and cross section that is perfectly flexible but not capable of being stretched and that hangs freely from two fixed points” like a velvet rope that swings from two brass stanchions.
 
Based on a work on Saturday night at PS21 Center for Contemporary Performance, a world premiere collaboration between violinist/composer Hannah Epperson and dancer/choreographer Rebecca Margolick, there is also an invisible catenary – one that links humanity. It is no barrier to an entry. Rather if we so chose or pay attention, the catenary, if followed, can lead us to act as stanchions to ease the burden of each other.

The two, along with electronic performer Niloufar Nourbakhsh, evoke that sense in a rattling and poignant exploration of a relationship. The piece starts before the audience is even seated. As people jockey for seats, Epperson and Margolick are standing centerstage, slowly walking in half-circles, with a long cord tied to each of their waists, like an umbilical cord. Inch by inch, they travel a hair farther from each other until their cord pulls nearly taut between them.
 
As they are doing this – one can only hear a heartbeat and an occasion whirl, something like one might hear in a vintage sci-fi film. Could it be the miracle of human development?
 
As Epperson retreats to a corner with her violin, Margolick becomes the focus. She appears a target – arms outstretched toward a glaring light – and then she caves onto herself and flings her body backwards. It happens again and again as if she is the victim of some violence. Then in a convulsive solo, she twists her hand alongside her head – as if realizing something – and then – still bent over – cradles something invisible in her arms. When she finally stops, her fists are clenched.
 
Epperson puts down her violin to come to her aid – placing her body between Margolick and the hammering light. That is her role throughout, helping Margolick to endure her pain. At one point, Epperson rebraids her wild hair after another exhausting, painful incident that could be read as childbirth.
 
Nourbakhsh also took part, stepping out from the audience to walk across the stage in profile. She was holding what appeared to be a baby paunch with one hand as she seemed to navigate an unseen tightrope. The pressure of perfection – as a woman and as a mother – looms heavy.
 
“Catenary” emphasizes the stress women are weighted down with. Their bodies are expected to please, nourish and soothe. But this burden is further strained by the assault on their rights to their bodies.
 
Epperson, Margolick and Nourbakhsh demonstrated we are one, even in divided times; and insist we show compassion. Without it, the link or catenary that connects us will be disastrously severed.

​The 60-minute dance will be repeated at 3 and 6 p.m. today.

Grand Kyiv Ballet performed the icon classic "Swan Lake" on Saturday night at the Palace Theatre in Albany

 Art can change the world.
 
Art brings people together. Art shares and enlightens with its ideas. And in the case of the Grand Kyiv Ballet, art also serves to remind us that an unjust war continues to rage in the homeland, Ukraine, of these talented dancers.
 
The small ensemble returned to the area on Saturday night for the third time in less than a year – this time at the Palace Theatre with their rendering of the classic of classics, “Swan Lake.” Their stripped-down version of this often elaborately dressed ballet – as well as others — is a tell that they don’t have resources. But the company’s efforts also signal that one must carry on, regardless, to try to rebuild.
 
Certainly, this ensemble is one of Europe and America’s most hardworking. They are seemingly everywhere, all the time, performing their repertoire of story ballets. After seeing last year’s “The Nutcracker” and “Snow Queen,” and being disappointed, I was encouraged by the Kyiv ensemble’s “Swan Lake.”
 
This Tchaikovsky ballet in four acts is the world’s most popular. It centers on a Prince Siegfried who is coming of age and must find a bride. And as he wanders into the forest, he meets and falls in love with  Odette. But sadly, she is under the spell of the evil Von Rothbart who, by day, cruelly keeps her and her retinue as swans. She promises to come to the palace that evening, as a princess, to secure their forever love at the court -- a move that would break Von Rothbart's hold.
 
But Von Rothbart, recognizing their devotion, hatches his own plot. He sends his daughter, Odile, to the court. concealed as Odette. She dazzles, tricking Siegfried into promising his love to her. When he realizes his error, he races from the court to reunite with Odette at the lake. And in Eastern European fashion, their love vanquishes Von Rothbart so the two can live happily ever after. (In the original and most American versions, the two cast themselves into the lake and die.)
 
Victor Tomashek danced Siegfried opposite Ekaterina Malkovich in the dual role of Odette/Odile. Both physically strong, the dancers poured out an honest dose of emotion to carry the audience to buy into their flawed love. Malkovich was gorgeous – ideally sweet and fragile as Odette and daring and dismissive of Siegfried as Odile.
 
Other standouts included Khan-Ochir Tumursukh as the jester. Though he appeared tired at his first tour en air, he quickly recovered to invigorating, carrying all the court scenes – particularly the first, which can seem overdone and dull.
 
Sultan Abdyzhaparov as the cape-flicking Von Rothbart, who cast a malicious look, cut a dashing figure.

One thing that is awkward, however, is the Ukrainian dancers often stop the ballet d'action to garner applause. It's an old-fashioned practice that doesn't work well on American stages where audiences are not used to the custom. On Friday, when the music stopped and dancers walked to the edge of the stage, they were often met with stone silence.
 
Still, the production was a success, despite too many bows and having no sets pieces other than one chair. But the backdrops, particularly the lake view, glowed, providing just the right atmosphere for this haunting ballet.
 
Finally, I must tip my hat to Tchaikovsky. His music for “Swan Lake” has made it the “Romeo and Juliet” of ballet. His escalating theme is not only memorable, but elevates the ballet as the legend it has become.

Caleb Teicher, left, and Nic Gareiss performed the inaugural fall program at Jacob's Pillow on Friday night. 

For more than 90 years, Jacob’s Pillow has been a summer destination for dance devotees.
 
But this weekend, for the first time in its storied history, the Pillow is hosting a weekend of fall performances with the duo Caleb Teicher and Nic Gareiss. These fine technicians of the feet – Teicher, a tap master; and Gareiss, a lord of Irish step and Appalachian clogging — melded their styles in a seamless love letter to the percussive power of the heel, sole and toe.
 
These two appeared like siblings, united in their respect for the art in which they represent a healthy portion. (The metaphor with the shared muffin, a bit they performed on a bench, informed us all.) And the program, in the newly built Doris Duke Theatre is equal parts homespun and sophisticated. These two artists, particularly together, must be seen as their synchronicity elevates them both.
 
The program began with a calm Gareiss appearing barefoot, circling the square stage in the center of the theater, which is set up in the round. As Gareiss wheeled around, he offered glimpses of his foot power – a slide here and little pound there, accented with Irish skips and hops. He makes way for Teicher who runs to the stage, barefooted too, but in a more exuberant and jocular manner. Teicher starts the audience laughing – clearly delineating who is the comic relief.
 
The two add socks and then shoes to their back and forth on the stage, equipped with microphones, until they are together creating joyous and syncopated rhythms on the boards.
 
At first, I was disappointed that they were not accompanied by musicians. But these two, and their symbiotic relationship, are so intriguing that no musicians were needed. Besides, they also sang. Gareiss started out the vocals by singing and dancing to “John Brown’s Dream,” a traditional square dance tune that he punctuated with square dance calls.
 
Teicher sang too – first on the previously mentioned bench with Gareiss – and then after they spread sand on the stage to step and slide as they sang Irving Berlin’s “Blue Skies.” Teicher is a limber dancer that startles with his athleticism, especially with the jumps that land low and nearly horizontal to the floor. Teicher’s dashes are accented by their hand play, claps, slaps and finger snaps.
 
Gareiss, who offered up a sweet tribute to his Irish dance teacher with “Scraping for Peggy” on the sandy floor, tempered Teicher’s energy with a calming, optimistic strength. Together, their union melted into one, beautiful universe of soulful and sentimental sounds.
 
The highly recommended program will be repeat at 2 and 7:30 p.m. Oct. 25 and 2 p.m. Oct 26. Tickets can be purchased at www.jacobspillow.org.

Soles of Duende, features, from left, Brinda Guha, Okai Musik, Ryan Stanbury, Amanda Castro, Arielle Rosales and AJ Jagannath, (Photo by Daryl Padilla)

​If this were a perfect world, it would look like Soles of Duende.
 
This incredible sextet – three dancers and three musicians – oozed joy in a bubbling mix of percussive styles – American tap, flamenco and kathak to music from all the world – demonstrating that differences are not to be feared, but marveled.
 
And indeed this small ensemble’s showing on Friday night at Proctors’ GE Theatre commanded utter ebullience. These artists – tapper Amanda Castro, flamenco dancer Arielle Rosales and kathak dancer Brinda Guha – did not try to fuse their abilities. Rather they respected each other’s artistic space, standing side by side, playing with their styles in a buoyant and easy flow. It wasn’t about overtaking, adapting or assimilating, it was about knowing what the other brought to the floor. And it was beautifully authentic.
 
These open-minded artists were skillfully accompanied by trumpeter and percussionist Ryan Stanbury, who was also music director, drummer Okai Musik and guitarist Andrew “AJ Jagannath.” They played everything Indian, Afro-Caribbean, Latin and jazz music as the dancers hammered out rhythms with their feet.
 
As Guha was bare-footed, her light stamps jingled with her ankle bells, while Castro and Rosales shoes thudded and skidded along the boards.
 
Among the first thing you notice, aside from their differences and steady synchronized sounds, are their hands – Guha’s open and soft as if receiving a gift from a child; Rosales’, curled like a flower about to bloom; and Castro’s, wide and swinging as if she were a pitcher hurling a ball from the mound.
 
The star of this show was hand down Castro. She had more energy and charm than any tapper I have seen. One could see her mind racing as she entered the rhythm circle with everything she had, occasionally striking the floor with a hand, touching her heart or spinning around and around taken by her own intoxication. She, with a killer smile, bewitched all.
 
Rosales was the sophisticated one in the trio – strutting her flair with her velvet skirt, flicking her head in a hard turn and jutting forth her chin in a signal of strength. Her serious demeanor melted when she was joined by Castro or Guha who would give her a cool slap to her hand or a toss her a look that said, “let’s go.”
 
Guha was most lovely. Her style, though often fleet, felt soft and sweet. Though she soothed with gentleness, she was fearless – keeping up with the hard-shoe steppers.
 
Soles of Duende’s passion was so great, it easily transferred to the audience. And when the stage went black at the end, the audience spontaneously stood that instant in a well-deserved standing ovation.
 
Bravo for Soles of Duende.

Preston Chamblee and Emily Kikta performed the duet in George Balanchine’s "Episodes."  (Photo by Erin Baiano)

Choreographer George Balanchine never made it a secret: he loved his adopted home in America.

One can see it in his delightful "Western Symphony," dance with gusto at Saturday's matinee at Lincoln Center. And there is still a whiff of that sentiment in the bright "Square Dance," an obtuse nod to American folk dance, set to the sparkling music by Arcangelo Corelli and Antonio Vivaldi.

That too was on the program on Saturday, and both took me aback — mainly for the dancing that was outstanding.

First, in “Square Dance,” Taylor Stanley was incredible in the mournful solo. He’s imbued every gentlemanly gesture – a sweep of his arms, his determined walk, and slow turns – sent chills as if he was called to embark on a somber task.

Emma Von Enck was his terrific partner whose presence gave a light touch to those amazing pas de chats with a little extra shake and her bouncy petit allegro. She was invigorating to watch.

So too where the “Western Symphony” cast of mainly soloist and Victor Abreu, a corps de ballet dancer, who took on the role of the diamond studded cowboy who has an encounter with the ethereal dance-hall lady as danced by Olivia MacKinnon. Together, these two gave the audience a good laugh as their cat-and-mouse antics never got stale.

Ryan Tomash and Isabella LaFreniere were teamed for the Rondo which they played cowboy and his sophisticated partner who even as he tried to shoot at her feet, she kept spinning in a dizzying round of fouettes. And of course, all this is to an amazing orchestration of American folksong classics like “Red River Valley” and “Oh Dem Golden Slippers.”

While I thoroughly enjoyed both dances, the third piece on the program Balanchine’s four-part “Episodes” always baffles. I think it’s the music, Anton von Webern’s atonal orchestral score, that can be difficult to mentally unravel and more difficult to enjoy. I can’t imagine how the dancers do it.

However, this work has astounding innovative moments. For example, the dark duet, as danced by Emily Kikta and Preston Chamblee, was memorable for its sense of too isolated figures whose individual worlds collide. They come together and entwine in the most unusual way – particularly when he carried Kikta on his back upside down.

The finale with Miriam Miller and Aaron Sanz was also intriguing to watch the clean intersection of the 14 corps de ballet dancers expressing the atmosphere that this ominous music portrayed.
​
“Episodes” is one of those dances that requires deeper study. Though not an audience favorite, I hope it will not be placed on the lost repertory shelf for years to come.

Ellen Sinopoli Dance Company is on its 35th anniversary tour of free shows this fall. (Photo by Gary Gold)

The scenario was not ideal for a dance concert. People were milling around, sipping cocktails, chatting and waiting for theater doors to open on The Great American SOULBook.
 
But Ellen Sinopoli knew that; and the choreographer took a chance. If her one of her six vivacious dancers in her Ellen Sinopoli Dance Company caught the eye of one concert goer, then maybe a new audience member would be born.
 
While a long shot, especially near the bar at Universal Preservation Hall on a Friday night, it is worth the risk. And it is one that she will be taking 35 times this fall to mark the company’s 35th anniversary in arenas, like at UPH, where the audience, and probably the dancers, could barely hear the music.
 
In “Putting Out the Welcome Mat,” Sinopoli and her band of modern dancers are performing four short pieces that reflect a sliver the dancer maker’s output of more than 100 works. Aside from their full-out take no prisoners effort, what connects them all is the mat.
 
The dancers, as seen in the first run of 35, entered to jaunty music to create a stage with interlocking foam squares. Their methodical process creating the stage, in this instance cordoned off by four pillars, is a dance in itself. Fleet and efficient they create the center square and on and off pathways as invisible wings that lead back to the revelers.
 
And then, in a flash, they start to dance. The 30-minute show begins with the lively “Brink” to music by jazz trumpeter Dave Douglas. Five dancers hit Douglas’ high notes and noodling with a flashy kicks and torso swirls that kept, for those paying attention, watching.
 
The evening also featured the spirited tango excerpt from “Sandungera,” a duet, “Slipping Through,” with music by Don Byron for dancers Emily Gunter and Kyra Paulsen; and a trio “To Sing, Laugh, Play,” with music from John Adams’ John’s Book of Alleged Dances.” It was all animated, just like the people who surrounded the stage.
 
As a serious devotee of dance, I was not thrilled with the format. But I definitely see the value in taking dance where the people are. The art form has always suffered as the Cinderella – the ignored workhorse -- and bringing its sparkle to the ball might just be the trick to pull it out of its dusty obscurity.
 
I applaud the effort – even if the music was hard to hear. 

The Isadora Duncan International Institute Dancers premiered reconstructed Duncan works at the Woodstock Playhouse on Saturday.

There is no more authentic vessel for Isadora Duncan’s aesthetic than Jeanne Bresciani. The international artist, who over decades has graced the Hudson Valley and Capital District with her artistry and tutelage, is one of the world’s most precious dance resources.
 
That is because Bresciani carries the torch for Duncan who is the mother of all modern dance. Without Bresciana, Isadora Duncan, who cast off the restrictive costumes, shoes and theatrical trappings of ballet, may have been lost to the ages. Instead, with Bresciani’s devotion, one can see how Duncan freely and joyously embodied humanity in the loftiest way, in the form of dance and music in nature.
 
Most recently, Bresciani and her Isadora Duncan International Institute Dancers, have spent years in Europe – recreating pieces and dancing them in the same ancient and bucolic sites that Duncan did. Yet Bresciani and dancers, along with Canadian dancer Kathleen Hiley, came back to the area on Saturday night for “Isadora Duncan in the Theater of Love and War.” Premiering at the Woodstock Playhouse, the showcase offered up 19 dances that reflected Duncan’s output during World War I. During that difficult time, she and her six adopted daughters, known as the Isadorables, fled European carnage, and found refuge in Woodstock’s own Brydcliffe, now an artist’s colony.
 
Saturday’s production recreated Duncan’s output with her dancers there. And though the program wasn’t staged outdoors, the video backdrops of Grecian columns, Italian sculpture, seashores and riverbanks suggested it. But more importantly, the program demonstrated how Duncan, in her trademark silk tunic, embodied full authority in pronouncements about love, war, youth and aging.
 
Bresciani started the night off. In shadow with her silks billowing, this graceful and ethereal dancer summons her followers. A total of 14 dancers, two men among them, swirled across the stage. It set up the evening of frolicking, formidable nymphs who became the through line of the program.
 
There were many fascinating dances that have laid hidden for decades. Among them was “Allegretto” to Beethoven’s Seventh Symphony, as danced by Bresciani was divine and a find for Duncan devotees.
 
Rosemary Cooper, a long-time student of Bresciani, was the central figure in much of the production, appearing in several works. Tall and powerful, she commanded in “La Marseillaise,” and “Marche Heroique” to Tchaikovsky. Draped in red, her potency was unflagging. Eyes couldn’t be drawn away from her.
 
Other memorable pieces included “The Crossing,” to Vangelis, that recreated the trip from one’s wrecked European home to New York’s Harbor during the Great War, as well as “Streams of Life” to Rosetti that illustrated the passages of life one which all humanity flows. The duet, “Not Path to Love Everlasting” to Chopin was also touching, for its depiction of the often fleeting nature of romantic love.
 
Most moving to me was Bresciani in “Touchstones.” Set to Ravel, it expressed Duncan’s deep affection for her Isadorables. It was particularly moving as one those Isadorables, Maria-Theresa Duncan, is the artist who shared her knowledge with Bresciani – and thus is responsible for Duncan’s art living on.
 
Needless to say, the art world is forever grateful to both.

Bill T. Jones/Arnie Zane Company performed "Collage Revisited" at Kaatsbaan Cultural Park on Saturday night. (Photo by Theo Cote)

It’s been 37 years since Arnie Zane’s death. But for choreographer Bill T. Jones, his relationship to the choreographer – both personal and artistic – remains vibrant.
 
That was evidence on Saturday night at the Kaatsbaan Cultural Park in a program that returned to a work the two created just before Zane’s death – “The History of Collage.” As danced by Bill T. Jones/Arnie Zane Company, the new version was recast as “Collage Revisited,” yet it held the same message – the assemblage of different parts create a beautiful whole.
 
What was amazing as the world gets more fractured, this work’s relevance only grows. Certainly, that is a surprise as we should be beyond dehumanizing and scapegoating our neighbors because they do not fit into what we deem to be the norm. Sadly, this could be embedded in human nature.
 
In the recast, Jones demonstrates how these differences bubble up, struggle to find freedom of expression and how a united front, unbothered by differences, nurtures a peaceful world.
 
The piece centers on a lone figured dressed in a suit, danced by Barrington Hinds. It begins with a voice talking about Freud and dreams. Over and over, the words are repeated as the figure sees what seems to be a biography – from childhood to relationships to striving adulthood. He simmers motionless in thought or moves through the world presented by the eight other dancers – that he watches or tries to discard.
 
As this is happening, the sound grows distorted, fades to a roar, that cannot be ignored, and then into a warped sound. Then the dancers are in full-blown rebellion. Sirens, shouts and screams blare as they push forward and are thrown back – again and again.
 
Finally, the piece moves to silence. The dancers line up, with the figure, touching gently each shoulder before them. Love and acceptance is finally achieved – a important statement for our time.
 
The evening also included “Story//(2013),” a work conceived and directed by Jones. Here, the stage is laid out like a sports arena – a court or track – in which nine dancers sprint, toss green apples and launch themselves into the air to Franz Schubert’s “String Quartet No. 14” or “Death and the Maiden.”
 
For a brief second at the start of the piece, one gets a glimpse of Jones’ inspiration – an office setting in which a man polished an apple. But after the initial, brief pose, the dance explodes into endless rushing that showed off the dancers’ strengths and sheer vigor. The dancers appeared to take as much enjoyment in dancing the work as the audience did watching it as they couldn’t hold back smiles as they engaged with each other – flinging themselves into each other’s arms – in a mad dash over unseen hurdles.
 
This is Jones at his most delightful.
 
This program will be repeat at 2 p.m. today at Kaatsbaan Culture Park in Tivoli.