The constant flow of the work reminds me a lot of Anne Teresa De Keersmaeker’s “Rain.” But there are no constant piano ripples here; instead, we have the almost discordant sounds of an organ in Francis Poulenc’s alive score. The music defies easy divisions or counts (at one point, I even spy one dancer briefly mouthing counts during a moment of silence); it keeps the audience on their toes, as the dancers and conductor work together to try catch each other at moments of dramatic relief, the dancers suddenly striking a powerful lift on a deep chord. In one scene, some female dancers are simply transferred from one man’s shoulder to another. Violins creep in at the edges, often accompanied by an entrancing swell of dancers leaping across stage (sometimes following each other in canon). It’s an ambitious work, with impressive stamina from the dancers. 

With regard to the question of how to preserve dance history, the curators here haven’t mixed these older works with new voices, instead committing to separate evenings for old and new; the Joffrey’s upcoming “Winning Works,” which commissions artists from backgrounds historically underrepresented in dance, will premiere in March. You might wonder if this risks splitting the audience, but judging by tonight’s fairly full house, the decision has paid off. The works on display share a love of choreographic simplicity, and a considered engagement with visual design in way that is focused in execution but abstract enough in presentation to still leave space for broader contemplation. The dancers perform these works with continued grace and technical mastery, fortifying this impressive evening of iconic dance.