No Gravity astounded audiences as it traveled through Dante's "Divine Comedy" on Friday night at The Egg.

The best dancers defy gravity. But what happens when the pull that connects us to the earth disappears? We are carried aloft by the wind.
 
That is what seemingly happened with No Gravity, an Italian dance ensemble that made it first appearance on Friday at The Egg. The band of six drew a depiction of Dante’s journey through hell, purgatory and paradise that was astounding – mainly because the dancers look to tumble, kick and claw through the air for the 90-minutes of “From Hell to Paradise.”
 
Choreographers Emiliano Pellisari and Mariana P tapped theatrical genius when they drew the audience’s eye to watch the mirror image of the dancers who were moving, fully supported by the black stage floor. Yet what the audience saw was a truly frightening descent into an inescapable black hole, lovers reaching out but never connecting to each other and the finally fallen angels who rained down from heaven.
 
While at times, the 11-part dance felt a little overdone, No Gravity’s take on “The Divine Comedy” was hypnotic. Once one got passed the “how do they do that?,” one settled in for a parade of startling and stunning imagery that made reference to Wassily Kandinsky’s moving lines and circles and Maurits Cornelis Escher staircases to nowhere.
 
This was accompanied by a soundscape that at times screechy and menacing, and other times, like a with a composition from Avro Part, the glorious – reflecting both the hell and the heaven that all – dancers and audience -- were traveling through.
 
The work began at the Gates of Hell. Strips of red dancing light inflamed the stage and enveloped the single dancer who tried to climb out of the ring of the damned who encircled her.
 
In the next scene, the convicted dancer appeared to be walking an angled tight rope, desperately trying not to slide down. But the balance beam continually shifted its position, making it impossible for those who are condemned to resist the inevitable.
 
The success of No Gravity was that the audience was on the ride, rooting for the despairing who, as they said, made their bed.
 
There was a hauntingly beautiful, but poignant scene, depicting Paolo and Francesca who stretch their arms toward each other, barely embrace before they fly away separately into the wind.
 
And the section honoring Escher’s mind-blowing staircases, though cumbersome at first while the dancers try to gracefully assembly the steps, once again achieved the impossible – upside-down humans ascending an inverted flight of steps.
 
Finally, the moment when the censored angels were expelled, was also gorgeous as the entire ensemble rotated through the air with fans that were useless parachutes.
 
Bravi No Gravity. Please come again.

Monica Bill Barnes' & Company's "The Running Show" was performed on Saturday at the University at Albany. (Photo by Ben McKeown)

Dancers are a rare breed. They work their bodies endlessly – trying to achieve a move to perfection. And once there, they then place that move and countless others into a vision that will touch hearts, open minds or simply make its audience sigh, laugh or cry.
 
They are athletes.
 
Unfortunately, to the world at large, dancers and their dances are largely unsung, while the athletes are bestowed superhero status.
 
Monica Bill Barnes & Company makes the nexus clear in a revealing and engaging “The Running Show.” Choreographed by Barnes, this fantastic evening-length event, as seen at the University at Albany on Saturday night, leaves audience no doubt that dancers are athletes – and the care and training of their bodies is paramount to the art. And their passion for that art is ground into their soul.
 
The energetic Barnes, with backup dancing from retired dancer Mary DiSanto Rose, company rehearsal director Flannery Gregg and 14 Skidmore College dance students in baseball pants and muscle shirts, basically composed a love letter to dancers that said yes, we see you; yes, we know you; and yes, we appreciate you.
 
The key was Robbie Saentz de Viteri who served as the sports commentator for the show. As the combination of classical and pop music played and the dancers ran through their paces – sprinting, spinning, stretching — the baseball capped man at the microphone explained the mystery of it all. Calling himself “a chair person,” he  touted their abilities – numbering Barnes turns and speaking the  how age and injury modify goals while marveling at endurance – just like a commentator overseeing it all.
 
That was sprinkled with snippets of interviews from dancers age 5 to 70 that tried to explain what they were doing, what they were wearing and why they do it.
 
The interviews, played over the sneaker-wearing dancers punching or running in place, were often humorous. Yet they were also deeply sentimental, with the dancers Wendy Rogers, who spoke of her work with Sara Rudner (a former Twyla Tharp muse), and DiSanto Rose who reminisced about her work with Jeanne Brescianni (an Isadora Duncan acolyte). The associations were more than physical – they were spiritual. Her dancing cameo, as her interviewed played, amplified how fleeting moments on stage are built on a foundation of hours and days of sweat and striving.
 
Saentz de Viteri also spoke of the spiritual connection between sports teams and their fans, referencing the historic 2016 Chicago Cubs World Series win; and how homer in the ninth inning brought the beleaguered Cubs’ lovers, who hadn’t seen a series crown in more than a century, collectively to their feet.

Throughout all the chatter and music, Barnes is running in place and punching with a focus of a marathoner or prize fighter.
 
Dance is a sport. But I would add that it is harder – as they don’t learn one position well, they learn many. And it’s not just about physical achievement, it’s art. And it's long-past time for appreciation to grow.
 
Still there is a timeless reward for all dancers. Those who follow Terpsichore know they can conquer anything. Dancers, you know what I mean.