From left, Evan Fisk, Zack Gonder and Stephanie Terasaki of Brian Brooks / Moving Company in "Closing Distance" on the outdoor stage at Jacob's Pillow through Sunday, July 25. (Photo by Jamie Kraus)

The pandemic has affected all of us in different ways – one of which was, in some cases,  bringing the close closer and severing the ties of the remote.
 
But even before the pandemic, on its very eve, choreographer Brian Brooks seemed to foreshadow it in “Closing Distance,” a work he premiered just prior to the COVID-19 outbreak and one that tapped into the need for, but difficulty with intimacy.
 
The work is now onstage at Jacob’s Pillow’s outdoor stage, the Henry J. Leir. It is among three pieces, including a solo featuring Brooks that will be performed through Sunday. And though the entire program is just an hour long, as all of this year’s outdoors shows are, Brian Brooks / Moving Company demonstrated that, as an ensemble, the dancers are deeply in-tune and sensitive to each other. Together, they make for a beautiful company, for which audiences should be grateful.
 
To the award-winning, “Partita for 8” score by Caroline Shaw, “Closing Distance” at first seems like a scientific experiment. Dancers were bundled together moving each other in mechanical ways as the vocalist sing words “to the side” or “to the midpoint.” But the work blossoms, along with the score, into a spiritual journey with dancers Evan Fisk and Taylor LaBruzzo. She’s an unseen, powerful figure, whom with a flutter of her hand, moves Fisk, literally and figuratively. He, who hypnotized by her actions, flops and springs about, an unwitting soul who is open to the universe’s energy force.
 
The final section, with all eight dancers, swirling together fluidly – a band of unifying angels that signals an optimism that is a welcome sight for world-weary souls.
 
The program also features two world premieres – Brooks’ solo “Quiet Music,” named for a Nico Muhly piano score, and the night's opener “Flight Study.” Both, created at the Pillow during a pandemic bubble residency, were intriguing.
 
“Flight Study,” to music by Bryce Dessner “Aheym” as recorded by Ensemble Resonanz, had echoes of “Swan Lake,” but a prehistoric version – one where the birds fight their way out of an egg and crawl across the grass before taking off to cloud-high heights. The string music is driving, at times, and carries these creatures along a path that is gloriously transformative.  And with the real birds in nature singing and the oak trees behind them swaying, “Flight Study” is a highly recommended experience – particularly in this setting.
 
Finally, I loved “Quiet Music.” Firstly, it’s rare to see Brooks, who is a fascinatingly emotive dancer in his own right, performing. In this work, he takes us by surprise by arriving to the stage from the center aisle of the house. Once onstage, his trajectory is back and forth, upstage to down, bringing him in and out of focus – as upstage he is silhouetted by the sun and downstage his kind face, in the trees shadow, comes into view.
 
Here, in the desperately tender work, he is showing the audience a wave – reaching out and retreating – shaping in our minds a way of life and death, of lost and restoration. It was a moving tribute to all of us as we continue to wrestle with the pandemic.

The pas de deux from George Balanchine's "Agon" from 1957 is complex and revolutionary for the art of ballet.

What a difference a day makes.
 
While I’m still not thrilled with New York City Ballet’s pandemic-inspired lecture-demonstration format during its brief stay at Saratoga Performing Arts Center this week, Thursday afternoon’s “All Balanchine” version seemed less awkward. And happily, more enjoyable.
 
Multiple departures from Wednesday’s program, though slight, made for the happy difference.
 
First Gonzalo Garcia was host. Unlike Maria Kowroski who read from index cards, Garcia was speaking extemporaneously, pacing the stage like a motivational speaker, signaling the audience must hang on every word. We did.
 
And then there were the excerpts – they were longer – only slightly. But that little extra moment to savor the dance was precious. It was exactly what we needed in order to feel like yes, we are at the ballet.
 
Moreover, the snippets from company founder and genius choreographer George Balanchine’s “Apollo” “Four Temperaments,” “Agon” are unadorned. None of them have the elaborate sets or are backed up with slews of corps de ballet dancers. So two dancers on stage was ideal, unlike on Wednesday night’s showing of story ballets excerpts. Design and dancers were sorely missing.
 
Thus Balanchine’s neoclassical excerpts felt more complete and audience did not feel cheated out of an experience.
 
And the dancers, as usual, were superb. It’s amazing to note that they have not danced in front of an audience since the start of the pandemic. But they performed beautifully, each with precision, careful to point out how special – and in some cases revolutionary – Balanchine ballets were and remain.
 
The afternoon started with the variations performed by Apollo’s three muses with the supple Teresa Reichlen as Terpsichore. Her variation, a show of the muse’s artistry, devotion and affability, was enchanting for the mix of emotions it inspired. And Reichlen, now a senior dancer, has the ability to draw out every ounce of meaning in every step and gesture.
 
Equally wonderful were Miriam Miller and Amar Ramasar in the complex “Agon” pas de deux. As one watches the intertwining of arms and legs and their miraculous unraveling, one can’t help but wonder how the classical trained Balanchine came up with such radical movement.
 
While he was an insurgent, Balanchine was also a showman. In excerpts from the triptych “Jewels,” “Emeralds,” “Rubies” and “Diamonds,” and “Who Cares,” Balanchine’s love for making music visible was clear.
 
“Diamonds” was especially glorious with Miller and Tyler Angle – the approach walking and circling each other is tentatively, but revealing the draw that they eventually surrendered to was sumptuous.
 
And though I’m not a huge fan of “Who Cares,” the dancing – with the men strutting and the women skipping – was uplifting.
 
Certainly, the company is leaving us wanting for more.

This program will be repeated at 7:30 p.m. Friday and Saturday, July 16 and 17, at Saratoga Performing Arts Center. 

New York City Ballet performed the donkey pas de deux on Wednesday during its "Short Stories" program at Saratoga Performing Arts Center.

During the last several years, Saratoga Performing Arts Center’s relationship with New York City Ballet has thinned, with the outdoor venue allowing the founding flagship company to fade with fewer and fewer performances.
 
The pandemic strained things all the more. Last year’s season had to be canceled. And this year’s, due to COVID-19 restrictions that were in place during the planning, dancing had to be limited.
 
Thus City Ballet’s 2021 SPAC season, now dwindled to four days from a once robust four-week season, includes just a handful of dancers and two pianists (Alan Moverman and Nancy McDill) with the audience sitting in socially distanced pods.
 
Because there is no orchestra and no cast of nearly 100 dancers, this year the audience has to settle for of a lecture-demonstration style show. Dancers are performing short snippets of ballets between a lot of talking. Actually, too much talking.
 
On Wednesday night, the ballet’s opener, principal dancer Maria Korowski was the host. This veteran dancer – appearing poise in street clothes and standing in a slight first position -- was perfectly charming in a program called “Short Stories.” Reading from index cards, she explained the origins and plot lines of such ballets as “Swan Lake,” “Sleeping Beauty,” “Firebird” and “Fancy Free.”
 
Then the dancers would appear in costume to discuss their takes on the roles and how they prepared. Beloved ballerina and the company’s Associate Artistic Director Wendy Whelan also made an appearance, discussing coaching of Meaghan Dutton-O’Hara on the Rose Adagio, one of ballet’s most difficult ballerina feats.
 
But people in the seats want to see the dancers dance. And when they did, it was over too quickly.
 
Of course, it’s City Ballet so there were still flashes of brilliance. For example, it was a Dutton-O’Hara who is in the corps de ballet, proved her strength in the adagio where she must remain balanced on one leg while her four international suitors promenaded her in circles.
 
Principal dancer Teresa Reichlen was sublime as the Odette, the enchanted swan princess and plucky but vulnerable as the Firebird. Reichlen has the maturity to pour into her technical know-how a heart that moves an audience.
 
It was also fun to laugh a little bit – with the three sailors in “Fancy Free” in the opening scene when they first arrive in the big city, the donkey pas de deux from “A Midsummer Night’s Dream” and the hilarious mistake waltz from “The Concert.”
 
Sadly missing were all of the sets and props – including the frilly, pink clamshell that Tatiana, danced by Miriam Miller, sleeps in. It was replaced with a mismatched backstage chair.
 
Also missing was the corps de ballet that beefs up every ballet with their energy and precision beauty. The hoards of swans from “Swan Lake,” which were absent, was especially keenly felt.
 
Still, the audience made do, enjoying the dancing, which always ended too soon with more talk resuming.
 
I understand that SPAC had to work with COVID-19 restrictions. But these talk shows are better for an audience unfamiliar with ballet. After decades of ballet, SPAC audiences are astute and know much of what was told to us. So revelations were slim.
 
As one observer put it “it’s better than nothing.” But how much more can City Ballet and its audiences lose?
 
New York City Ballet will repeat “Short Stories” at 7:30 p.m. Thursday, July 15, and 2 p.m. Saturday, July 17.

From left, Ruby Morales, Bianca Medina, Jannet Galdamez and Jasmine Stanley of Contra Tiempo is dancing "joyUS justUS" on the outdoor stage at Jacob's Pillow. (Photo by Christopher Duggan)

In these divided times, there is no better glue than shared joy and gratitude.
 
That’s the point of Contra Tiempo’s exuberant and heart-centered plea in “joyUS justUS,” a work now on the outdoor stage at Jacob’s Pillow that urges compassion over cruelty, love over loathing, embrace over acrimony.
 
And it’s not just a pie-in-the-sky idea. In “joyUS justUS,” choreographer Ana Maria Alvarez, gives the world a pathway out – by showing that a respect for nature’s bounty and a graciousness to all those who came before us – including the Native Americans – is the essential start.
 
Before the piece even begins, inclusion is emphasized. It starts with the audience – each member is offered a colorful stripe of cloth that can be waved if the spirit demands. Also on stage are offerings to nature and ancestors – old family photos, braided sweet grass, sage, candles, a bowl of water, feathers – all arranged in an altar to faith in family and nature.
 
Then as the percussive sounds of drums can be heard, we see three woman walking down the aisles from behind the audience to the stage – like brides who commit themselves to the cause. Once on stage, they offer a thanksgiving prayer to water, fire, family and more and ask us to repeat “You and I are us,” again and again.
 
And then the trio is joined by three others and they explode into the moment the audience was waiting for – a jubilant expression of freedom and movement that got the audience waving their cloth.
 
Alvarez, whose company hails from Los Angeles, knows how to get her point across. Expertly lacing in the music of the upbeat band Las Cafeteras and the driving sounds of composer d. sabela grimes with a melding style of dance including salsa and hip-hop, she has the dancer touch upon mass incarceration, police pushback on protesters and criminalization of immigrants. Yet she also demonstrates that humanity doesn’t have to be in conflict if mutual respect is at play.
 
This is of note with a wonderful duet with Jasmine Stanley and Charlie Dando who delivers a give-and-take balance that is both hilarious and fascinating for their sheer physical abilities that are completely in-tune. Also noteworthy is Jannet Gonzalez’s touching solo. Her body is a wave, a fluid figurine, accompanying a story of love for a new-born baby and how that translates into thriving.
 
All in all, “joyUS justUS" is beautifully uplifting and optimistic in an era that is desperate for solutions.

It's final showing is at 3:30 p.m. Sunday, July 11.

The marvelous Paul Taylor Dance Company in "Esplanade."

Pop open the prosecco, throw up a cheer and maybe even a prayer of thanks to Terpsichore.

After 15 months of no in-person dance performances in the Capital Region, dance is back.
 
And no group of dancers could have embodied the joy we dance devotees feel more perfectly than the Paul Taylor Dance Company – one of America’s most cherished modern dance ensembles.
 
At PS/21 in Chatham on Friday night to a full house, this brilliant and buoyant company presented a shortened program of two favorites -- “Company B” and “Esplanade.”
 
These are typically curtain-closers for the company as they are so effervescent. And because of the long-shut down, these favorites felt all the more celebratory. Better yet, the dancers – with their fine-tuned, springy bodies – were bursting and ripe to perform them and perform them well.
 
The opener of “Company B,” Paul Taylor’s ode to the Andrew Sisters music and World War II era in America, features the cast of 13 wandering onto the stage, looking up in wonder, reflecting back exactly what the audience was feeling –awe at being in a theater again.
 
The horns of “Bei Mir Bist Du Shein” could be heard and the skipping and swinging began. Together, in a suite of hits from the era, the dancers carried the viewers through a high-stepping polka, comical pursuits of love and romance with songs like “Joseph! Joseph!” and “Oh, Johnny, Oh, Johnny, Oh” and of course the dance’s signature song performed with charming zip by John Harnage.
 
But Taylor is sly. Not all is well in “Company B” or with the greatest generation. In the shadowy area upstage, we watch the soldiers march in synch – forward to perhaps their death. It was a stark reminder that though we are happy today, the future – including that of in-person shows – is uncertain.
 
“Esplanade,” to Bach’s bright “Violin Concerto in E Major,” reawakens the contentment. This is another one of Taylor’s amazing works as much of it is running and walking – no pyrotechnics – but it completely thrills and satisfies the visceral soul.
 
In ever-moving circles and lines, the dancers formations are an enchanting kaleidoscope of comings and goings of those who travel an esplanade.
 
As the music moves into the adagio movement, Taylor highlights the inner lives of the players. A lone woman and close couples who grow sleepy as the light dims, showing the audience a shift in the day. An angelic figure moves among them, an agent of care, compassion and protection. It is a lovely scene.
 
Of course the final festive allegro movement and lights shine, the dancers are once again exuberant – with dancers jumping, tilting backwards, falling, rolling and sliding across the floor. Devon Louis was a standout, flying higher than the rest – in a finale of finale.
 
The audience was enrapt. A standing ovation ensued. But something else did too -- applause with foot stomping.  They wanted to show they more than appreciate the return and knew more than the usual clapping and standing was appropriate and due.
 
These artists, our artists, make the world a better place.
 
Paul Taylor Dance Company will dance again at PS/21 in Chatham on Saturday, July 3 and again on Friday and Saturday, Aug. 6 and 7.

Brooklyn-based Flex Ave performed on Friday night at The Egg.

No matter what style of dance one practices, bad choreography will defeat the dancer every time.
 
That sums up what happened on Friday night at The Egg where a crew of decent dancers with potential were marooned by amateur choreography.
 
Flex Ave, an ensemble of flexing or bone-breaking dancers from Brooklyn, is made up of styling street dancers that can bust some astounding moves with individual flair. But paired with literal choreography by Reggie “Regg Roc” Gray and Corey “Gutta” Batts, which directly express the music as opposed to enhancing it, wrung out Flex Ave’s capabilities early on.
 
The beginning was promising, however. A dancer in a spotlight glides along on the tips of his sneakers like a ballerina en pointe. His grace was prodigious and captivating. But the eye was pulled from him as the light rose up to reveal other dancers engaged in street play – jump rope, hop scotch and dice – casting them in an urban environment where the dance was born.
 
Much of what followed was aimless – well-executed moves that did not spin a thread of emotion or narrative to coalesce the one-hour show.
 
There was one section on suicide that I found rattling and powerful. It was set to rap music that spoke the point of view of the one who takes his life and then the one left behind. The lyric told the tale, thus all the dancer had to do was express the despair, anger and grief – which street dance can do well. But the dancers were boxed in by plainly dancing out the lyric – a missed opportunity.
 
I couldn’t help but think about Rennie Harris, the first to put urban American street dance on stage. His genius was leading break dancers beyond the wow factor and into territory that could speak to all humankind. His stories from the streets spoke of love, joy, generosity, want, hatred and agony.
 
Flex Ave can’t touch Harris’ artistry. But because Flex Ave’s dancers have the moves – including ones that look like arms are broken or detached (this was difficult to watch) – I think they can get closer to attaining that.
 
The point is for Flex Ave to stop gliding along the surface, to go deeper into their vulnerabilities. Honesty from the artist is the place where connection is made. It can’t be forged with power moves alone (which are thrilling, but hollow).

​Show me the person behind the move and then the move will not only make more sense, it will enrapture me.

Christopher K. Morgan and Artists are working on a new piece at the Experimental Media and Performing Arts Center at Rensselaer.

There is something comforting about the art of choreographer Christopher K. Morgan. It only makes sense then that for his latest work fermenting at the Experimental Media and Performing Arts Center at Rensselaer, he would embrace the fiber arts. His new dance, the-yet-to-be completed “Native Intelligence/Innate Intelligence,” swirls in soft woven fabrics.
 
Of four parts shown on Thursday night with his Christopher K. Morgan and Artists, three were wrapped into sculpted macramé ropes that enhanced the dance’s fluidity and expanded the gentle movement beyond the body.
 
Add to that the resonating cello, as composed by Wytold, and a table full of delicious snacks where audiences were free to graze, all were instantly seduced into Morgan’s warm world. It was a place where one seeks to reconnect and give relevance to ancestral culture. It was also inviting, and at EMPAC, it became a salon showing at its most modern.
 
Morgan has once again drawn from his Hawaiian heritage for this work-in-progress. Hawaiian chants and hula, that show reverence to the Earth and to all humankind, punctuate into Morgan’s work. The movement appears as if he is opening a door, pulling something toward him or racing forward to capture the fleeting past.
 
His solo was especially alluring as he seemed to transform into an eagle – allowing his large shawl to span out and then coil around him before falling to his feet. Morgan has a way of making the simple, beautiful and dignified. He and his dancers are thoroughly charming.
 
The first section of his unfinished work showed the dancers at their best, converging and dispersing in the most interesting ways. Forming a human sculpture, with limbs entwined and hands, heads and feet melding in all directions, served as a testament to the body’s ability to be endlessly fascinating and, if open, the spiritual attachment we should feel to each other.
 
In another section, Tiffanie Carson escapes her physical trappings, but is held back by the group who take her emotional temperature with hands on her heart.
 
The lightening design is also gorgeous with color lighting up the floor in reds and blues.
 
There is much to see and consider in “Native Intelligence/Innate Intelligence.” And I do hope, once complete, it returns to EMPAC for a full airing. Snacks are welcome too.

Kyle Marshall Choreography in "Colored," with from left Marshall, Myssi Robinson and Oluwadamilare Ayorinde. (Photo by David Gonsier)

One can’t hide the color of one’s skin. And for people of color that means carrying the burden of society’s preconceived notions.
 
Choreographer Kyle Marshall reflects on that and more in “Colored,” a work that delves into stereotypes. Performed on Saturday night at UAlbany Performing Arts Center, Kyle Marshall Choreorgraphy portrays the load of racism as one that people of color manage through unity. But the toxicity is epidemic. No person of color survives unscathed.
 
The piece, with Marshall, Oluwadamilare Ayorinde and Myssi Robinson, begins like a prayer. The trio stand in a circle, holding hands, heads bowed. As they break away, a ticking, like a clock, has them waving their hands, a gesture showing their cool as they go about their individual lives.
 
The dancers draw us in further as Robinson talks about caring and styling her hair. Her narrative surveys products, people’s responses and how her white mother didn’t know what to do with her mane.  As she speaks, she moves toward the audience, settling at the feet of those in the first row where she sculpts her locks into nobs, creating an intimate moment for those close to her, but a frustrating one for those who can't see her.
 
As the dance progresses, the movement suggests seamless support, mutual trust and a joy within that. But the movement also shows that maintaining the support can be complicated. With the music by M. Clegg becoming mangled, like listening to a stretched out cassette tape, the dancers begin to stumble and twist. Their joined hands are now a liability.
 
When their hands form the shape of a gun, Ayorinde goes down. As Robinson mourns, alone, the lights go down.
 
“Colored” begs for more conversation on how prejudice can distort those it targets. But what I found most interesting about the work is that it tells a story in post-modern dance language. Marshall is a Trisha Brown Dance Company member and one can see the influence her clinical style has on his work. Brown sought to free movement from meaning and narrative. Marshall is embracing it.
 
While “Colored” was not the most damning work out there on the ills of racism, it shows that Marshall is moving the art of dance in an untried direction, adding depths and dimension to the style. And for that, he’s worth keeping an eye on.
 
The evening at UAlbany also featured “Horizon,” a duet for Marshall and Miriam Gabriel. In a curtain introduction, Marshall said the dance was meant to explore the relationship between a black man and a white woman.
 
I found the piece too obtuse to fully enjoy. The red and blue costumes by Gabby Grywalski indicated that the two are opposites, but the movement - the man with swinging hips and the woman with stomping feet – didn’t lead my mind in any one direction. I was searching for meaning when I should have let the movement wash over me.
 
Once again, those preconceived notions can destroy more than enlighten.

Vuyani Dance Theatre performed its tour de force "Cion: Requiem of Ravel's Bolero" at MassMoCA on Saturday night.

It started in blackness with the sound of weeping – muted and gentle at first but then it grew into a full-fledged wail – one that echoed through the Hunter Center at MassMoCA on Saturday night.
 
As the lights rose, the audience saw the mourner shuffling among crosses – a graveyard that encircled the stage and set up Gregory Maqoma’s powerful and resonate “Cion: Requiem for Ravel’s Bolero.”
 
As performed by nine ardent and talented dancers from South Africa’s Vuyani Dance Theatre along with four amazing vocalists from Soweta’s Gospel Choir, the work is a haunting indictment of religious authority in a world filled with despair. And while there were glimmers of joy and even hope, the piece is a cautionary tale, one that exhorts us all to wake up to the pain in the world that we ourselves are upholding – often by our unconscious neglect and indifference.
 
Dancer Otto Andile Nhlapo danced the central role – a potent priest who in the first minutes demonstrated his sway with a wave of his arm that moved the others to do his bidding. He presided over the ensemble that was at first meek but allowed the pain and anger to bubble up and over into a cauldron of ferocity.
 
After submission, with imagery akin to communion, the dancers turned on the priest – pounding on him and eventually taunting him. And this was just the beginning.
 
The music for the journey into grief was outstanding. At first, the four voices from the quartet – Simphiwe Bonongo, Xolisile Bongwana, Sibusiso Shozi and Thabang Mkhwanazi – sounded so precise and so substantial, I was certain it was a recording of a large group of singers and musicians. But when the lights rose up on them, I could see that it was from these gifted vocalists doing the broad soundscape purely a capella.
 
When they created Ravel’s iconic “Bolero” with their voices, I was stunned. That in itself was a worthwhile listening experience - an orchestra of sound from four.
 
Back to the dancers – they performed this miracle with Maqoma’s unique language that combined modern, ballet, African, street, martial arts and tap dance. Nhlapo’s role was a tour de force, requiring him to be onstage nearly the entire 70 minutes -- working out his character’s inherent cruelty to find a place where love can seep in.
 
While Nhlapo was engrossing to watch, every second of the ensemble work was enthralling. It shouted pain, especially during the section where they are pounding the floor with a bundle of cloth. Their unity, honesty and willingness to go for broke was mesmerizing. There was no way to turn from its awesome might.
 
“Cion: Requiem for Ravel’s Bolero” is an amazing artistic achievement and one that makes me curious as to what else is out there in modern African dance. For decades, the only thing American audiences saw were the traditional dance and music troupes. While those groups are rightly beloved, I want to see more Vuyani and those like it from Africa. Obviously, the mysterious continent has much to offer.

A simulated black hole from NASA that Su Wen-Chi thought best illustrates her yet unnamed and unfinished work.

Dance is a play with gravity; and one that choreographer Su Wen-Chi is exploring on the level of a physicist.
 
The Taiwanese choreographer is going deep on the subject of gravity – its subtlety and its power – in her latest work-in-progress. Yet unnamed, it’s taking shape during a residency at the EMPAC at Rensselaer and rightly so. Much of what is developed on the Troy campus is scientific, academic and, of course, experimental. And while the work, as shown on Thursday evening, is clearly in its infancy, Su’s work offers some sparks of promising inspiration.
 
For one thing, her single dancer in the piece, a man named Adam (last name not given), actually dances. Anyone who is familiar with EMPAC knows that walking in a circle, crawling through a hoop or standing at a podium is often, annoyingly, deemed to be dance. Thus, I was well-pleased when I saw that Adam moved, and moved well.
 
In the opening section of five shown, the soloist is revealed by the flash of strobe lights that freezes him in various states of movement. He hops in arabesque and cartwheels his legs behind him. His arm shoots upwards, but the feeling is gentle, carefree. He doesn’t devour the space, he freely inhabits it, comfortable with the gravitation pull.
 
That section moves onto one in which ambient sounds hums while his limbs float upwards – above his body as if gravity no longer exists.
 
Music is added – at various speeds – and his solo becomes gestural as if demonstrating how to live or cope in the force field of our often taxing world.
 
The lighting design was spectacular, a whirlpool of dotted lights that left one seeing Adam tumbling through the universe. At one point, the audience is allowed to take the stage. The experience from there, with the lights and sound in the Goodman Studio rotating around the crowd, was intriguing. But equally fascinating was the view from the seats – with the audience in silhouette, they looked like aliens exploring an uncharted cosmos.
 
The only problem with the unfinished piece, and this was likely because it was in-progress, was Su. She kept stopping the show to explain what she was trying to do in each scene. And as much of what she was describing was beyond my comprehension, it was not helpful, only bothersome.
 
I prefer the dancing, the lights and even the unusual sounds. No narration needed.