“Busk” by Aszure Barton, instead, winks at the audience. Created in 2009, it has evolved into a shorter, undeniably clever work of immediate theatrical impact. It takes its name from the English verb to busk, meaning to perform in public for money, which Barton also associates with the Spanish buscar (“to seek”). Focusing on the marginality and anonymity of street performers, it expresses a form of rebellion against society’s indifference towards artists. Presented on the grand stage of one of the world’s most prestigious opera houses, the work draws a poignant parallel between buskers and theatre artists: both expose themselves to an audience, seek recognition and make themselves vulnerable. The music does much of the work in creating the atmosphere, from Slava Grigoryan’s intimate guitar to the compositions of Moondog, himself a New York street performer. Particularly suggestive are the choral pieces by Söderman, Wikander and Saint-Saëns, which give the hooded dancers the mysterious appearance of monks. They emerge from the darkness almost like ghosts, forming groups and dissolving back into the shadows. Solitary figures and ensemble passages alternate throughout in an original choreographic language rich in unusual gestures and facial expressions. The performers’ individuality is intentionally obscured by heavy costumes, as part of the piece’s aesthetic. Yet the company’s stars still manage to shine through: Francesco Mura, Loup Marcault-Derouard, Ida Viikinkoski, Caroline Osmont and Milo Avêque, among many others, even if this particular work gives them little opportunity to display their full potential. One cannot help hoping to see Barton create something especially for these remarkable dancers.

And finally, we come to the thread that spectators are left to find for themselves: what makes this programme interesting is perhaps what the works tell us about being human together. Maillot celebrates mutual trust and the building of a wise community, as the title “Vers un pays sage” suggests: we should leave our loneliness behind and find strength in others. In Forsythe, three distinct personalities meet, influence one another and continually reconfigure their relationships, as their interplay becomes the generative principle of the dance. In Barton, the individual emerges from the group and disappears back into it, while solitude, anonymity and a sense of belonging alternate. One may question the choice of works, how well they suit the dancers, and what exactly brings them together under the title “Inner Landscapes.” Yet how can we not call it a success when we leave the theatre with something to reflect upon in our own lives?