Dressed in cream-colored pants, a crisp white shirt, sneakers, and big owlish spectacles with red plastic frames, Twyla Tharp played the professor in the first part of the 90-minute show.
Marcia B. Siegel
Boston Dance Theater’s four pieces seemed to counter female stereotypes but raised limited alternatives.
John Heginbotham may be making modern dance but he gives us the gift of classicism: discovery within form.
One thing I liked so much about this show, besides the mental and physical challenges, was its use of really simple and mundane materials.
Places Please! looks at the backstage life and trauma of performers.
Now, we’re told, Trajal Harrell has been researching Butoh dance and hoochy coochy dance, hooking them up with the precursors of modern dance and slathering on generous amounts of gender theory.
Jerome Robbins makes me think about how nonverbal characters can inhabit their times.
Choreographer Paul Taylor leaves a repertory that sprawled from the outrageous to the sublime.
La Sylphide is full of magic. It might be about magic.
Going beyond the reasonable concept, there was the New York Theatre Ballet’s performance.