Clad in Rosenwasser’s simple but stunning, earth-toned costumes (changed between scenarios)—the gals in body-hugging tunics, the bare-chested men in trunks or flowy skirts—these terpischores often moved as if possessed. Hello, again, Gowan, who shone in his solo, tossing off pirouettes with ease, as well as executing one-legged balances, jetés and pretzel-like contortions. And partnered with Madeline DeVries, their slapstick-ish pas de deux included body-slapping, skittering and faux laughing—from them, the soundtrack or both—that, in either case, was a rambunctious and welcome divertissement.   

Several women dancers, sporting pointe shoes in one segment, casually cavorted about, as if this were a, well, walk in the park. If the park, that is, consists of a Marley floor, with the inhabitants capable of mindboggling moves. Enter again, the astonishingly facile Babatunji, in an electrifying solo performed near Fischer, who was singing a variation of the Black anthem, “Lift Every Voice and Sing.” 

Whether standing in a half-lunge or grounded on one knee while balancing on one arm, his other leg aslant yet pointing skyward, Babatunji was beseeching an unknown specter, as a group of dancers beheld one of their own. 

Completing the cast: Ilaria Guerra, Maya Harr, Marusya Madubuko, Tatum Quiñónez, and Lorris Eichinger; while a stunning duet between Cissoko and Elhassan, set to the lone notes of a solo piano with perhaps a whiff of synthesizer, signaled the work’s end, and again marked King’s delicious balletic vocabulary, one that invites, no, insists, personal exploration, of body, mind and, yes, soul. 

Like its title, “Deep River,” the work ebbed and flowed, plumbing our humanity—and the need for connection—along the way.