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IMPRESSIONS: Will Rawls' “[siccer]” at the Keith Haring Theatre at Performance Space New York
IMPRESSIONS: Absorbing Paul Taylor's Choreographic Range at Lincoln Center
By Kristen Hedberg/@kristen.hedberg on Instagram
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Published on November 25, 2025
Paul Taylor Dance in "Gossamer Gallants." Photo: Whitney Browne*
The Paul Taylor Dance Company's performance on Friday, November 14, 2026 at the David H. Koch Theater gave a glimpse into Taylor’s extensive repertoire, pairing two of his signature works: Speaking in Tongues opened the evening with a daunting, hour-long portrait of a society steeped in expectation, yielding, and forgiveness, while the fiery Gossamer Gallants, with its playful dynamics and powerful movement vocabulary, lightened the program. I immensely enjoyed experiencing this company, whose current dancers delivered the Taylor technique and repertory with a crisp, cohesive unity.
Speaking in Tongues brings forth the realities of living within a fundamentalist community. Members must navigate the pressure to conform, the consequences of giving in to human impulses, and the hypocrisy that emerges when those impulses surface among its leaders. ‘A Man of the Cloth,’ danced with striking authority by Lee Duveneck, is such a leader. The townsfolk initially display a carefree nature, in a burst of dancing full of skips, lifts, and patterns maneuvering around folding chairs. Later, this congregation’s cheer dissolves as they grapple with their deepest desires, or communicate with loved ones who have succumbed.
A program note explains that the work’s title “refers to a certain impulsive projection of private religious emotion into the public setting of a communal prayer service [...] the practice is associated with Pentecostal churches dominated by charismatic ministers, particularly in the Southern United States.” The characters’ navigation of public versus private sticks with me after experiencing this piece. What personas do they put on, when they step outside of their homes? Physically, they allow euphoria to lead them in free, abandoned dancing: but are these jubilant feelings authentic?
In this world, the consequences of being fully authentic — pursuing intimate desires, escaping, or simply deviating from the norm — are brutal. John Harnage, as ‘The Odd Man Out,’ embodies this tension grippingly, absorbing kicks, swats, and jabs from the townspeople, who seem terrified to face his same fate. My eye also lingers on Payton Primer as ‘A Party Girl,’ whose sparkling energy appears to unsettle the social order, riling up the neighborhood.
I keep considering two figures — one visible, one audible — who embody the members’ deepest fears. First is ‘A Man of the Cloth’: often silhouetted in a doorway upstage left, or looming in a wide stance, Duveneck commands the stage. At his appearance, the townsfolk tremble, and sit up rigidly. Second is Matthew Patton’s score — specifically, the part that incorporates a warped, gargling broadcast. These radio recordings make me consider the divisive politics that shape the characters’ world. Two additional sound scores by Patton propel the piece: one ethereal, the other mechanical, as if the phrase “a well-oiled machine” were translated into rhythm.
Jessica Ferretti’s performance as ‘His Better Half’ contrasts with ‘A Man of the Cloth’s’ sinister nature. Where he punishes, she forgives. Where he terrifies, she calms. Her smooth, liquid command of the role’s physicality mirrors the gentle nature of the character.
Folding chairs play a symbolic role throughout. At first, they remind me of church pews, representing stillness and collective identity. Later, the community drags them across the stage like heavy weights. At the work’s conclusion, the cast lie flat on their backs, lifting the chairs above them like shields.
Speaking in Tongues leaves us in a heavy state at intermission, but Gossamer Gallants arrives brightly. I try not to be distracted by its fascinating backdrop designed by Santo Loquasto, which depicts a castle in a spiraling circle. Along with the swelling, brisk dance music from Bedřich Smetana’s The Bartered Bride, the scenery transports us somewhere fantasy-like.
Perhaps the castle nods to the reality that females are royalty – the stronger sex in this insect species. The stage bursts into flirtation and fury, as Taylor introduces the males. In their black and teal costumes, they mimic flies. The males soar and strut with bravado and puffed chests. My eye goes to Patrick Gamble, his suspended, lofting jumps bringing the illusion of floating.
The second section spotlights the females, who resemble praying mantises in their bright green costumes. They present with a calmer, poised energy, each dancing a sensual solo before the males try desperately to impress them. The females, at first, ignore them, trotting past them with pointed feet, their own chests lifted, and beaming smiles. But the females alternate between whimsical and deadly, and, growing frustrated with the males’ attempts, they launch their own hunt.
Slicing through the air with surging spins and sharp, bug-like jabs, the females pile the males into a clump, where they lie splayed askew. The message reads clearly: these ladies are, indeed, royalty.
Speaking in Tongues and Gossamer Gallants, both danced brilliantly by this company’s artists, remind us how profoundly Taylor's choreography captures the full range of human experience, whether it explores the power dynamics of a religious congregation or delves into the intriguing mating games of the insect world.
![IMPRESSIONS: Will Rawls' “[siccer]” at the Keith Haring Theatre at Performance Space New York](/images/features_large/20251119_WillRawls_siccer_PerformanceSpaceNY_WhitneyBrowne--55.jpg)
