Any regular dancegoer has seen the real-life version of this comedy. A dancer loses a chunk of costume. Before the object on the floor can become a hazard, some other dancer has kicked it into the wings, hardly breaking stride.
Bass's pals return, and they all balance upside-down wooden chairs in their teeth while dancing. They don't expect applause for this. Eventually, they're accompanied by the love scene from Saint-Saëns's Samson and Delilah. As this endless musical cliché plods on and on, they begin to betray anguish, longing, exhaustion. Snow crystals start to blow at them, mussing their ostrich feathers. They dance on into the teeth of the storm.
Joined by Rowlson-Hall in Another Parade (2009), the women became manic co-eds in short skirts and cowl-neck sweaters, alternating between demure little hip swishes and blatant come-on.
In her 2009 solo Here We Are, Barnes moved at a demonic pace through a gamut of odd, intense moves that might have meant anything. I didn't know what she was going through, but it was pleasure enough to see the clarity and the power of her movement, and the fantastic way she could make sudden complete changes of energy and intention. At the end, her arms were lifted and rounded, as if she were holding an invisible waltz partner. Then, of course, I wanted to see the whole story again.
