Enigmatic (Satie, himself, made up the title, “Gnossienne”), yet lovely and somewhat haunting, the music suited both dancer and accompanist, with Millepied doing a bit of strutting while also being videotaped in real time by Sebastien Marcovici. A thoughtful use of the medium, these images, including close-ups of splayed fingers, gave an air of intimacy to the 2,265-seat hall. (Also credited in the production were artistic collaborator Olivier Simola, dramaturge Loïc Barrère and lighting designer Masha Tsimring.)

To the sounds of a scratchy recording of Bach being played on an old-fashioned phonograph and seen on film, Millepied forayed into the master’s Partita No. 2 in C minor. Prancing and attacking his moves with the visceral quality emblematic of an artist unafraid to lay bare his emotions, he pirouetted around the stage one moment, was in arabesque mode the next: Here was Millepied embracing what could only be called, the “audacity of dance,” his articulated footwork, whether moving forward or back, as a form of liberation.

When Tharaud got up from his piano bench and walked across the stage to meet his comrade in art, the journey continued: Tharaud, sashaying and clad in a blue suit, looked as free as Millepied, who, at one point, lifted his colleague (caution: artists at play), their ease with one another apparent. The joy in this physical realm was perfect counterpoint to the more cerebral world of the music.

One wondered: Would Millepied next sit at the piano, or live vicariously through Tharaud instead? It was the latter, of course, as the ballerino, now wielding a video camera, shot close-ups of the musician’s hands, his fingers, their duet of camaraderie, their true bonhomie, examples of the power of art, the beauty of trust.