“Cascade,” first shown in 1999, is a mannered piece that shows off the signature Taylor coiled energy, crisp leg work and ecstatic port de bras, with just enough quirkiness to make you wonder if you’re being hoodwinked. Baroque in tone for twelve dancers, I picture courtly couples dancing something that resembles the Minuet. As a couple sways forward to meet at the center, their foreheads touch. In a kind of bow, the man squats with one leg extended behind like a yoga lizard pose. 

The dancers are dressed in velvety black and bronze, men in brocade vests, women in matching skirts with a lacy tiered ruffle at the waist. J.S. Bach’s Concertos for Piano & Orchestra is brisk with cheer. When the dancers lift their arms squarely flexed at the elbow it looks like they’re toting chairs. When lifted by their partners, the women have flexed knees and ankles like figures featured in Egyptian art. Right angles, paralleled arms, this work is interested in symmetry, the dancers often mirroring each other.

The jumps are like springs—the dancer pops up vertically and splits the legs evenly, with a little extra kick at the crest. In one section four men square off with John Harnage at the center executing a series of sharp contained turns. He then lifts the other men one by one as if greeting his children. They then each take a turn lifting him. The pace slows for Kristin Draucker’s solo—she runs with her hands out to feel the air like a mime establishing an invisible wall. A duet with Devon Louis and Jessica Ferretti opens like a rose at the center of the work.