A quartet in light shades of blue opens the piece. They run across the stage with purpose, their chest springing forward, arms tucked tight at their sides. In typical Taylor fashion, the movement is buoyant but restrained. A dancer will perform a series of jumps, but every continuous bounce stays at the same level. Quick sissonnes are sharp and turned in. Between the jetting from on to off stage and vice versa, are quiet moments. A series of couples enters upstage. One by one they strike a low arabesque. Slowly rising onto releve, some, like Michelle Fleet sustain the position flowing into the next movement with ease, while others move more swiftly from one moment to the next.

“Troilus and Cressida,” (2006) is an imaginative and humorous Taylor piece. Set to the classic “Dance of the Hours,” the curtain rises to a sleeping Cressida and three cupids. With shimmering costumes and small wings on their backs, the cupids flutter around the stage awakening the young woman from her sleep. Cressida doesn’t move in the same way the cupids do, and without fail, she slips on her pillow and lands flat on the floor. Cue Troilus who is just as clumsy as Cressida.

They manage to meet for a short duet, but for comedy the choreography is sacrificed. It’s funny to an extent. Enter three Greek invaders to the mix, with velvet capes flowing behind them and drink in hand, the chaos becomes more confused on stage as the different groups mix.

The dance turns more slapstick in your face comedy than is intended to be. In the end the group piles into a final pose, Cressida lifted above the rest by the invaders. It’s a perfect picture ending that doesn’t entirely share all that came before.
EYE ON THE ARTS, NY -- Bailey Moon