The scrutiny of the lighting amplified Gingras’s critique, laid out in a program note, of how technology both wields and obscures power. Searchlights crisscross the stage and land momentarily on sprinting dancers; bars of light descend like a prison gate and separate individuals from the group; a blue line of light travels the stage horizontally and scans the huddled bodies on it. Though “Frontera,” muses on mass migration, the form hits a deeper, highly designed note when questioning technology: who or what has a right to privacy?  

Much of the dancing also pushed on this theme through mirroring and tracking alongside each other. Even in the most acrobatic and improbable of passes, they struggle to shake off a tail. Still, there were moments in which it seemed their bodies could not be contained. The stamina of the dancers was Olympic and the hard-hitting band that was revealed in silhouette upstage also brought a ferocious energy in these moments of attempted escape.  

A later pile up of bodies shows that once again, the center cannot hold. The dancer spit out returns to her heroic hinge backward into the mass, arms slicing. She sets off a chain reaction that is the tunnel moment in reverse: they drag each other apart and off the opposite sides of the stage. The beams of light also return, but this time they are more curious and personal, spotlights that a few of the dancers seem to relish and almost bathe in. The women post up in the shadows between the bars for a gestural fight in and out of the light as we listen to cuts of a Donald Trump speech about building a border wall (from his first term as president). The men return to thrash about with them and the group energy eventually pushes them all off stage.