There are moments when the women express a sense of opposition to the men's abuse—in one, women stand in a group and bite their thumbs at the men; in another, they stand on the men's pelvises. Even then, somehow, the men still end up on top: After standing on the men, the women are thrust to the ground and the men run and tackle them.

One particularly disheartening moment came in a featured duet. After impressive lifts where the woman is flung around with legs stretched wide open, the man sets the woman down and raises a hand to slap her. She catches his hand in time to stop the blow, but then places the hand wanly to her chest and dips into a backwards arch. I had hoped, instead, that she might twist his wrist or bite his thumb, or perhaps simply kick him in the nose (Introdans's women all have wonderful extensions). To make matters worse, when the man pulls away from her and walks off, she runs after him in desperation.  

Maybe this piece is a commentary on domestic violence and demonstrates the unfortunate realities of Stockholm syndrome and the plight of women, or something like that, but this is hard to believe when the bursts of duet violence are juxtaposed with jolly peasants—both men and women—standing around the stage, looking fondly upon their quarreling countrymen.

Meanwhile, Bigonzetti's women wear their long hair down so as to appear raw, loose, and uninhibited. Of course, this meant that, for much of the dance, you couldn't see their faces.