​They did it again. The curators at Williams College ’62 Center for Theatre and Dance have once again shared with Berkshire audiences an international work that is emotionally stirring, thought-provoking and completely mysterious -- one that no eye could be torn from and a work that could likely be seen nowhere else in the region.
 
Gregory Maqoma’s “Cion: Requiem of Ravel’s Bolero,” as seen and heard on Thursday night at the college, is a memorable landscape that mines lost, fear, power, religion in a graveyard of our collective heart. As danced by Maqoma’s versatile ensemble Vuyani Dance Theatre from South Africa, the work draws on the rhythms of Ravel’s building theme while questioning the world’s seemingly endless inhumanity.
 
Everything about this work was astonishing. The first thing to draw audiences in was the set – a foggy cemetery where crosses, and only crosses, dotted the stage’s periphery.
 
“Cion” begins with a professional mourner – played by one of four isicathamiya musicians. He stumbles from cross to cross, wailing. Then the lights rise on the back of the stage to see a still group of nine – lit from above they look like the souls that rose from the graves. They are the ghosts of our past. They hold the secrets of our history. They reveal to us – through the work – brutality in the name of social order and hierarchy that when challenged lashes out to kill.
 
Otto Andile Nhlapo played the central figure, a cruel overseer of the group, punishing one with painful twists to his ear. Yet the band of dancers reveres him, hold him up sky, surround him, follow him. Yet in the end, they seek to escape him and the back-breaking labors that are required under his scrutiny.
 
But Nhlapo, by tapping into popping and locking skills, showed that he wasn’t fully human – unaware of the pain he caused including in his attempts to seduce a woman, danced coyly by Roseline Wilkens, who was attempting to survive his attention. 
 
There were some dramatic moments that seared in the mind’s eye – the slapping of burlap bags upon the stage representing the endless work, the flight of two men shaking with fear and anxiety and the besetting of a trio of dogs, that ultimately killed Nhlapo’s chosen woman – leading him too to mourn.
 
Throughout, the sounds of Ravel’s “Bolero,” as performed by the quartet of a capella vocalists, sneaked into a soundscape that of cries, screeches, calls, tongue clicks, hand claps and feet stomping that shot forth into every corner of the theater. Musical director and composer Nhlanhla Mahlangu is a genius, melding this well-known classical composition with the equally precise Zulu choral tradition.
 
At the end, with the rhythms of “Bolero” reaching their zenith, the dancers reappear, shrouded in black lace, hats and tap shoes reflecting the beat of the music. They are both mourners and the dead, seeking justice from an uncaring society. But sadly, they are trapped in a veil that has one wondering if it can ever be lifted.

Taylor Stanley and Indiana Woodward in George Balanchine’s "Duo Concertant." (Photo by Erin Baiano)

​New York City Ballet’s stay at Saratoga Performing Arts Center remains diminished – leaving lovers of the George Balanchine’s vision no choice – head to Lincoln Center.
 
Thus, I found myself at the Koch Theater for Saturday’s matinee to take in three ballets – Balanchine’s “Tchaikovsky Piano Concerto No. 2” and “Duo Concertant” and Jerome Robbins “Glass Pieces.” And while I was expecting the usual perfection, I was surprised to find an injured Sara Mearns clearly struggling in the demanding Tchaikovsky classic. And an under-rehearsed band of corps de ballet men (the women and couples were great) in Robbins’ work.
 
Still, it’s New York City Ballet so there is always much to see and hear that I doubt that anyone other than the super fans and critics noticed.
 
Furthermore, “Duo Concertant,” not a favorite by any measure, turned out to be the afternoon’s most pristine. Indiana Woodward and Taylor Stanley brought out a tenderness in the Stravinsky ballet, which featured pianist Elaine Chelton and violinist Kurt Nikkanen on stage, that I don't recall seeing before.

The piece starts slow, with the couple standing over the pianist, as if Balanchine wants the audience to focus on the music. The couple appears as if they are on a date at a concert or at a salon. And what finally unfolds – when they do dance – is what the music inspires in their imagination.
 
Woodward and Stanley were perfection with the steps – playfully hopping, twisting their hips toward and away each other and serenely entwining their arms. At one point, the stage is dark, but for a spotlight that illuminates Woodward’s face. It moves down her arm to her hand that reaches to Stanley’s hand and a kiss. It feels like the two are no longer united in their sense of the music, but are lost in their contemplation.
 
The difference with this performance, which elevated others I have seen, was the dancers themselves. Both have emotive powers that glide the mind past the music and the moment to their relationship – one of questioning its validity and its endurance. In the end, their fate is uncertain.
 
While “Duo Concertant” is Balanchine at his most modern (Stravinsky always pushed him there) the “Tchaikovsky Piano Concerto No.2” is Balanchine at his most classical (Tchaikovsky always led him there). Though Mearns was not doing well (apparently her calf was bothering her), her cavalier Tyler Angle offered up his tender heart and hand to guide and support her as best he could. However, toward the end of the ballet, Unity Phelan had to step in. Mearns did manage her curtain call.
 
Still, the ballet was enjoyable, thanks in large part to the corps de ballet. Their endless formations, moving swiftly into diamonds, semi-circles and intersecting lines, provided an opening for the couple and soloist Emily Kikta that fascinated.
 
Finally, “Glass Pieces,” always a crowd pleaser with its urban/otherworldly appeal, was oddly off-kilter for the men in “Akhnaten.” It was obvious that more rehearsal is needed here.
 
Regardless, Ashley Hod and Aaron Sanz, commanded in “Facades.” These two statuesque figures -- who appear as birds or hovering aircraft -- sent the imagination skyward.
 
One more thing, the New York City Ballet Orchestra, under the baton of Andrews Sill, was phenomenal as always. But I need to lament here as well. They always sound better in Saratoga. Acoustics are the thing, but without more effort on the SPAC and City Ballet administration to get them there, back to Lincoln Center we go.