Carlon, Faircloth, Gray II, and Narvaez proceed to give us a summary version of possibilities, with all the highs and lows, not leaving out clubbing, hang overs, and aerobics class. Convulsing is their connective tissue, with a wide variety of shudders, shakes, gyrations, and the occasional twerk, transmitting and absorbing energy. The pulsing is naturally ambiguous and allows for pluralistic reading. As a formal movement language, it feeds transitions.  When the group quakes in a heap on the ground, is it in lament or in generation of strength? Is it desperate or erotic? Near the end, Carlon extends his shudders to posture, conduct, and pray.

Carolina Ortiz’s graphic lighting design left the house lit for what seemed like the first twenty minutes of the show. Once dark, a large red sun illuminates the back wall. Shadows of branches pass over it and later, it morphs into two yellow, and then blue, circles that roam the space and converge like search lights. Bars of light flicker on us as the dancers leave the stage to change into brighter versions of their costumes—sheer tunics, shorts, and miniskirts—from Jeremy Wood. Rosana Cabán’s score, with contributions from Gutierrez, begins with loud drumming and shifts in unsettling ways to include gongs, muddled remixes, and a song for the aerobics routine that repeats, “I’m wide awake.”

Despite the organic feeling of it all, Gutierrez’s craft is felt. The architectural positions of repose that open the work, like a side-lying pike held with head suspended off the floor into spinal alignment, are echoed in the intricate revolutions of the group when the partnering becomes more fraught and frenetic. Strong images repeat for greater poignancy, as when the trio rallies around Gray II, lying on his back with Narvaez holding his arm aloft and tracing her fingers over his chest. What may be a scene of mourning is a mere moment that everyone moves on from, though I was grateful to see it, and feel it, again. 

In the end, a unison phrase shatters into individual loops that repeat for several minutes without tiring. Arms shape around invisible partners; the performers form a vibrating line downstage. Their beseeching looks and penetrating eye contact demand our presence too. As they retreat upstage, still adamantly moving in their loops, this demand only increases with their distance. They spread their arms wide so that they are close, but not quite touching. As three slowly travel offstage, their palms flip up and rotate back down as if telegraphing a message through their fingertips to Faircloth, left alone onstage.