Koubi’s stagecraft was also strong. A gold sheet at the back of the stage became a Virgin Mary veil for Francesca Bazzucchi, who later impersonated the other half of the Pietà when she lay draped across her partner’s arms (religious imagery was everywhere). This sheet was also employed as a raft, as clumps of dancers were pulled across the stage arranged in stoic poses like Emanuel Leutze’s painting Washington Crossing the Delaware. Then the sheet was used to wrap up the Adonic, absurdly talented Badr Benr Guibi, who doffed his gray tunic and swathed his bottom half in the golden fabric. He stood heroically in lighting designer Lionel Buzonie’s amber glow as the cast gathered around him admiringly. It was as if we were all witnessing the rebirth of the sun god—Apollo 2.0. It was hard to top that glorious vignette, but the phenomenal Elder Freitas Fernandes Oliveira managed to when he placed his head in the very middle of the gilt circle and did a dozen upside-down spins to suck in the fabric like an eggbeater. It was as beautiful as it was astonishing. 

These two men were standouts in Koubi’s preternaturally gifted cast, which, for the first time, included a few women. I was also impressed by how Denis Chernykh, in ochre, seemed to float like an astronaut no matter what he was doing. And the most extraordinary performance was by Samuel Da Silveira Lima, who could do more things with his one leg than most people with two could even dream of. He crossed the stage by alternately hopping from his foot to his knee. It was mind-blowing. The control he had in rolling down along the lateral or medial side of his leg was tremendous. He effortlessly turned himself into a breakdancing noodle alongside his peers.