Watching Two Very Different Dance Premieres

SunMi Park and Thomas Forster in Trio Élégiaque. Photo: Steven Pisano.

Sometimes when I’m watching dance, I wonder why. Why was this work created, and how? What are my expectations, and what will remain with me after I leave the theater? Why did I choose to be there watching? Dance can be a narrative form used to tell a story. But often, contemporary dance is plotless, in which case it should have some purpose. Or must it?

Two dances I saw in New York last week fall into these categories. Trio Élégiaque at ABT by the young corps dancer Brady Farrar comprised duets by three couples along the theme of unrequited love, set to Rachmaninov. The phrases are logical and well crafted, ebbing, flowing and alternating between the dancers coming together or pulling apart. You could feel that each couple had its own dynamic, its own particular situation on the romantic spectrum, and thus a particular vocabulary to express that situation.

These were loosely sketched by Farrar, who tapped certain ballet moves to evoke emotions. Bold jumps and lifts expressed heightened feelings; soft, calm gestures implied contentment, arms tugged in opposite ways meaning tension, and so on, set to Rachmaninov’s bittersweet piano and string composition. In numerous varied sections, the dance conveyed with nuance the joy and sadness of romance. Farrar hewed largely to traditional ballet vocabulary, creating elegant, flowing phrases.

B E N D. Photo: Lawrence Sumulong

Aszure Barton/Ambrose Akinmusire’s A a | a B : B E N D was performed at Lincoln Center’s Rose Theater as part of the Pasculano Collaborative for Contemporary Dance. Pretty much everything about the work felt in opposition to classical ballet, although I’d guess that most of the performers in B E N D are fluent in ballet. Nicole Pearce designed the striking set, with pearl strings of lights circling the stage apron and mirrored on the ceiling, as well as the murky lighting. Akinmusire sat on a dais, upstage center, playing the score, augmented by passages of bleating trumpet lines and screams.

And the dance… Barton has her own contemporary style, fluid and lithe, yet precise. She employs the entire group of 13 at once, and together they convey what feels like a weather system, or a murmuration of birds, rather than dance steps. While it is Barton's unique style, I caught flashes of gaga, street dance, and ballet. The black hoodies and loose pants (designed by Rémi van Bochove) erase any individuality, with the exception of a few sections where heads are bared. The overall feeling is menacing, or of the group being menaced, by external forces, banding together in the face of some threat. At moments, the mass pulsed as one, or energy flowed through it like a kelp forest.

B E N D. Photo: Lawrence Sumulong

Both works demand incredible technical skills. Using ballet’s familiar syntax in subtly new ways, Farrar focuses on the poignancy of romance; Barton, with her sui generis vocabulary, on some larger event's impact on the human state. Specific human emotions are conveyed through couples, or via a collective. Dance can speak many languages, and each viewer will absorb it and interpret it differently—but how lucky we are to have such choices.

New York Notebook, October 2026

Oscar. Photo: Daniel Boud

"Ballet is woman," said Balanchine, and indeed most of his ballets framed women in fierce solos and intricate ensemble sections, often with fewer men or men primarily in supporting roles. In general, ballet has focused on women in pointe shoes. So it is refreshing and a bit radical for the Australian Ballet to commission Oscar, by Christopher Wheeldon, a full-length ballet about the tragic life of writer Oscar Wilde following his great literary achievements, recenly presented at New York City Center. While there are two female lead roles—Constance Wilde (Benedicte Bernet) and the Nightingale (Jill Ogai)—the cast is predominantly men, given expressive passages and signature motifs beyond the usual demonstrations of strength or fraternal bonding.

Perhaps the most moving moment came before the curtain rose. David Hallberg, now artistic director of the Australian Ballet, emerged to greet us. He said that his first and last professional appearances happened on City Center’s stage, an amazing fact given his remarkable career at ABT and the Bolshoi, with performances around the globe. His tenure at ABT marked a peak in the company’s modern history; he was an audience favorite for his noble, eloquent movement, and his nonpareil, highly arched feet and precise technique. He imbued roles with a vulnerability and tenderness that contrasted with many of the more forceful readings by his peers.

Oscar. Photo: Curtis Browne

You can feel the attention to detail and sensitivity in Oscar’s male dancers. Whether it’s coincidental, or the manifestation of a grand plan, the Australian Ballet has one of the finest men’s rosters in ballet. I imagine that Hallberg has encouraged this on all levels, from training, hiring, rehearsing, and performing.

Wheeldon has emerged as one of the top choreographers of full-length ballets, and of works of musical theater with a strong dance element. He has always been a skilled ballet choreographer, with iconic works in large company repertories, as well as leading Morphoses, his own troupe, for a period. He has a fluency with story-telling and character-building on a loose, jazzy, appealing level. This is seen right away in Oscar, in an early courtroom scene, where the jurists wear black robes and wigs and stalk about, straight-backed and haughty, wielding their benches like walking planks. Sentenced to prison for homosexuality, Oscar (Jarryd Madden) is tormented with delusions of Dorian Gray, one of his two renowned stories (the other is The Nightingale and the Rose) that intertwine throughout the work. He also imagines a much happier time with his wife and two boys, picnicking and playing outdoors. Alternating between natural elements such as trees, plants, and the moon and restrictive interiors (prison, the courtroom) provides visual piquancy and variety. 

Oscar. Photo: Daniel Boud

Jody Talbot, a frequent Wheeldon collaborator, wrote the cinematic score. Wilde is feted as a literary hero, surrounded by fans; he air-autographs books, spinning in pencil turns, flicking his hands as if to say “voila,” soaking up the adoration. The stage transforms into a speakeasy; a pair of “female” dancers provoke the male patrons with can-can kicks and skirt swirls. Just as quickly, we’re back in prison with Oscar, consumed by visions of his creations. Gray (Maxim Zenin) and Wilde’s friend Robbie (Jett Ramsay) demonstrate a refined line and polish that were Hallberg hallmarks during his performance career, but all of the many dancers flaunted excellent technique. At times, a bit of manic chaos arose between the rapidly changing sets and props (by Jean-Marc Puissant), carried along by Talbot’s score that shifted from swelling orchestrations to sombre string solos. 

Wheeldon knows how to entertain, and certainly knows how to employ ballet in a grand, sweeping passages and gestural manners, as well as respect its history. And how nice to welcome back David Hallberg, who will always occupy a special place in New York's dance world.

Mazurkas. Photo: Hisae Arihara

Modern master choreographer José Limón was represented the same weekend at the Joyce Theater, where his namesake company performed, now under the direction of Dante Puleio. Limón’s lovely suite, Mazurkas (1958, to Chopin) led off the program, a display of his eloquently simple choreography, largely free of embellishments and frippery. In this paean to the composer's homeland of Poland, pairs, small groups, and solos unspooled to the live piano played with finesse by Michael Scales. It was the first time the entire charming suite had been performed since 1964.

Join. Photo: Ben McKeown

Somehow, the company looked even better in Aszure Barton’s Join (2025). As befits the title, she emphasized teamwork, evident from the first phrase, when all 11 dancers strode forward, hands linked and then unclasping and reclasping hands and receding upstage. Barton can produce such mesmerizing phrases, drilling the dancers until they move as one, underscored with dramatic lighting. She is one of the best contemporary choreographers to use the entire stage and all its tools, crafting a totality of theater in which to showcase her precise movement.

Join. Photo: Kelly Puleio

To a dramatic score by frequent collaborator Ambrose Akinmusire, the dancers lined up, body pressing to body, forming a centipede, energy rippling subtly through the collective organism. Suddenly one performer rose above the others, lofted by unseen effort. In a pair, each alternated suspending the other, legs around the waist. Explosive solos featured loose, big jumps. Another soaring dancer falling backward, then forward, both seemingly dangerous and completely safe.

While Barton has been choreographing for many years, and has been widely commissioned, is it possible she is still under-recognized? Another corrective to that will be her upcoming work with Akinmusire at Lincoln Center’s Rose Theater in late October, A a | a B : B E N D. It's a chance to see more polished, theatrical work from Barton.

April Notebook: Graham, Gibney, Varone

Canto Ostinato, with Zack Sommer, Tiare Keeno, Lounes Landri. Photo: Julieta Cervantes

Seeing Gibney Company and Martha Graham Dance Company on consecutive nights in New York recently provided a snapshot of modern dance. Think of it as a big tree—with its unshakably strong trunk in the form of Graham and Lucinda Childs, plus new branches, works by younger choreographers.

The highlight was Lucinda Childs’ Canto Ostinato at the Joyce Theater, danced by the Gibney Company, which recently landed Childs as a resident choreographer for five years. Childs has worked continuously since the 1960s in opera, theater, and dance. Early on, she created conceptual pieces with the Judson Movement, and ran a company, which was disbanded in 2019. So the recent occasional Childs dance in repertory, or unique remountings, have been most welcome.

Canto Ostinato is a précis of Childs’ mesmerizing style, based on crisp body geometries and repeating diagonal phrases danced by four to music by Simeon Ten Holt. Her dances have a pared-down look, from the neat costumes by Dominique Drillot (who also designed the set and film—vertical light bars that crossed the upstage scrim), to the ethereal lighting by Tsubasa Kamei, and the result feels like the perfect amount of each element combined. I could watch this on repeat for a very long time.

The context for the dance felt a bit jarring, comprising works by Medhi Walerski (with a Euro-neoclassical feel), Jawole Willa Jo Zollar (passionate and turbulent), and Mthuthuzeli November (exuberant). The sum total certainly showed Gibney Company’s stylistic flexibility and range, so key to a repertory company. But I look forward to seeing much more of Childs’ concert dance done by the multi-talented Gibney dancers. Kudos to Gina Gibney for this invaluable recognition of one of the undersung choreographers of our time.

Chronicle. Photo: M. Sherwood

At City Center, Martha Graham Dance Company’s performances were pieces in a larger mosaic of the troupe’s 100th year celebration. As with many single choreographer companies whose founders have passed, this has evolved by necessity into what is essentially a repertory company based on Graham’s rep. Her contributions to the program were Diversion of Joy and Chronicle, two of her more broadly popular dances, at least for today’s audiences. Even after seeing these works many times over the years, Graham’s maximally expressive, muscular, yet elegant vocabulary still feels absolutely fresh. It represents what the human body and spirit can achieve with determination and training. The dancers’ bodies are so strong and have undergone such extreme training that they seem like weapons themselves. And yet the sculptural shapes formed by the recombining of head, arms, torso, and legs still feel at once fresh and fundamental. Both Graham’s and Childs’ oeuvre have been marked by a certain refinement and classicism which helps to elucidate their crisp styles. How providential that we will continue to see their work regularly for the foreseeable future.

Sandwiched between these works were Jamar Roberts' premiere of To the Brink and Back, set on the estimable Lloyd Knight. Live drums supplied a simmering tension sustained as he paced restlessly between archetypal poses. It was followed by En Masse, a premiere by Hope Boykin (both she and Roberts are alumni of Ailey), to Leonard Bernstein's music. This suite included some new musical passages, but it was so eclectic and at moments dated-sounding that it distracted from Boykin's movement, which contrasts with the technical formality of Graham's vocabulary.

Diversion of Angels. Photo: M. Sherwood

Another veteran of contemporary dance, Doug Varone, popped up with his troupe at the venerable Hudson Hall, in Hudson. Fresh off of pulling out of a scheduled Kennedy Center run, Varone received a warm embrace from the audience. The smart program, hosted by Varone and performed without fancy lights or costumes, led off with a run-through of Lux, one of his best-known ensemble works. He then recruited audience members to help in choreographing something new—he scattered the eight across the stage, and directed his dancers, one-by-one, to move toward and interact in different ways with the volunteers. This group then left the stage, and the dancers performed the framework without them. In yet another section, a pair performed a duet to a Handel aria, and then the same movement (with a coda) to Janis Joplin; the result felt markedly different and showed how music affects context. In the first half, viewers were given glimpses into the various choices that go into choreographing, and no doubt ways to better comprehend the experience of watching contemporary dance—which can often be opaque. 

Doug Varone at work. Photo: David McIntyre

The company then performed a preview of No Matter What the End, set to the Radiohead album In Rainbows, that had been scheduled to premiere soon at the Kennedy Center and which will be presented at the Joyce in May. Varone noted that he rarely uses pop music in part because it is so loaded, which was the case for In Rainbows with many of us who were very familiar with it. It’ll be interesting to see it complete with costumes and lighting, and bearing an invisible badge of honor as a symbol of resistance.