Which makes me all the more grateful for “Chronicle,” in three parts, following intermission. Part I, “Spectre,” opens with a solo Leslie Andrea Williams wielding a massive black dress lined in scarlet. When standing on a platform the dress flows all the way to the floor, rendering Williams larger than life. She sweeps the skirt around her head and shoulders, forming a shroud to frame her face with red. Part II, “Steps in the Street,” is for an ensemble of ten women who enter by stepping backward into the space with a precise halting pace. Every dancer performs that step exactly the same—they become an assembly line moving with the elbow of one arm jutting forward at shoulder level, the other hand crossing the torso to rest on the opposite hip, eyes downcast. I could see the suggestion of a phantom rifle in their arms, carried in a processional military salute. The dancers take little staccato popcorn jumps, legs kicking into a stag leap or a wide second position. A serpentine line evolves, the dancers raising their arms overhead in a changing array of angles that could be read as thought bubbles full of bold typography—protest posters, maybe. The kinetic drama of the repetitive arm movements is exciting to watch, accentuated by Wallingford Riegger’s music performed live. 

Laurel Dalley Smith projects a commanding presence as lead dancer for “Steps,” and also returns in a duet with Williams for part III, “Prelude to Action.” The fierce Williams, now in a white dress with black markings that suggest armor embellishments, kicks her skirted leg in a wide arc with arms raised above her head to the melody of a military march. When Smith walks on her knees, I wince with the pain. The dignity and strength of these women cast a power I could feel safe with, were it to activate today in the world.