And so, for the uninitiated, it’s Gaga, the radical, exceedingly expressive, sensory-driven language developed by Ohad Naharin (Batsheva’s artistic director from 1990-2018), that has been Eyal’s signature movement vocabulary over the years. The technique that also accentuates carnal awareness, freedom and a connection to the body, Gaga oozed from every fiber of the dancers’ beings, beginning with four men in a hypnotic entrance: Darren Devaney, Juan Gil, Johnny McMillan, and Clyde Emmanuel Archer, all preening, knock-kneed and seemingly extra-human, could have been voguing on Mars.

Truly, in their nude-like bodysuits with traces of sparkles (costumes by British fashion house, 16Arlington and Ruoy), and their astonishing attention to detail—spidery lunges (hello, Louise Bourgeois’s arachnid sculptures), long-held pliés and oh-so-slinky stances, these performers were Narcissus—times four—especially given the mirrored floor. 

Or perhaps they were the male counterpart to the neoclassical Three Graces…Plus One (mirth, elegance, beauty, and, in this case—stamina), as Andrew Watson’s superb lighting design, bleeding from greens and pinks to deep reds, blues and grays, accentuated the dancers ambling effortlessly on the balls of their feet with the most stunning control. 

And those insanely deep backbends coupled with the occasional spasmodic gesture again suggested Nijinsky, multiplied, as it were, with the quartet constantly moving as one, in pairs and as an occasional trio.

The ephemeral, shape-shifting qualities of Ruoy’s painting served as the perfect milieu to the constantly mutating male forms, their defined muscles conjuring a Mapplethorpe photograph. And with their arms swooping backwards and their bodies leaning forward, these dedicated performers recalled the male cygnets, albeit now fully grown, of Matthew Bourne’s “Swan Lake,” sans the silk-feathered pantaloons.