In a memorable tableau, two men approach dancer India Hobbs and swing her back and forth, until they swing her up to a standing pose—merely supporting her under her feet. Hobbs is lowered only to run and leap into another standing lift. This time she balances with each man supporting one foot with the palm of his hand. She proceeds to run and leap upside down and is caught mid-air. The daredevil abandon and arresting lifts combine to form unforgettable images.

The scenes organically move between pathos-filled unease, hard-edged self-assertion, and boisterous group fun and games that sometimes veer into cruelty. The merry-go-round of emotions comes to a mesmerizing apex in an 11-minute partner dance for two men. Every time I see this duet, I am reminded of its incredible power and beauty. In this performance, Jamaal Bowman and Donterreo Culp run together, clasping each other as they continually change positions. They run laps around the stage to the desperation-filled, repeating arpeggios that open Arvo Pärt’s “Fratres.” The seemingly endless run abruptly stops when Culp leaps into Bowman’s arms at the sound of a solemn, meditative chord on the piano. As the two men clasp each other and pause to look into each other’s eyes, you realize that this is the longed-for, human connection that has eluded everyone in this boxing ring. 

The stage floor is suddenly filled with circular pools of light. Moving from pool to pool, the men dive over one another connecting in various poses and lifts in a push-pull of dependence versus independence. Their interactions are tinged with neediness, provocation, competitiveness, and tenderness. The raw physicality of two men dancing out-of-control, unedited emotions of interdependence is remarkable. They return to running laps, albeit with new relational variations—until one partner runs offstage. When the remaining runner notices his partner’s absence, he stops and sits down staring into the distance, waiting . . .