66br-66br cassino-66br casino

To attend the return of Batsheva Dance Company to the Brooklyn Academy of Music on Thursday was to have your attention split in several ways.333beijo777

First was the split between the acts of theater happening inside BAM and those happening outside it. Batsheva is the most prominent dance company in Israel. Because of that, and because the company receives state funding, the group Dancers for Palestine staged a peaceful protest on the sidewalk and stairs, blocking several doors as they chanted “Free Palestine!” and other slogans.

The names of the students have not been made public. The family of the targeted student had said in a statement published on Friday in The Gettysburgian, the college newspaper, that their son became “the victim of a hate crime” when a teammate used a box cutter to etch a slur against Black people across their son’s chest at an informal swim team gathering on Sept. 6.

“The error was isolated to 257 electronic ballots,” she said in an email, adding that the misspelling had been “immediately corrected.” The affected voters were emailed a recommendation to download the updated ballot, she said.

1gjogo

And the work being performed inside, Ohad Naharin’s “Momo,” from 2022, is also a study in split attention — one dance laid over another, a double exposure. In the first, four bare-chested men in cargo pants move as a unit, slowly marching like soldiers or stepping hand-in-hand, as in folk dance. In the second, seven dancers — four women and three men (one in a tutu) — move as individuals, each introduced with a solo, expressing themselves in extraordinary feats of flexibility and eccentricity, as in most works by Naharin.

For much of “Momo,66br” these two tribes remain distinct, even while occupying the same stage and field of vision, accompanied by the same soundtrack — selections from “Landfall,” an elegiac Laurie Anderson composition for the Kronos Quartet. Trading the positions of foreground and background, the two groups nearly touch, yet do not acknowledge each other.

In the middle of this 70-minute work, the four men climb up a wall (equipped with handholds and platforms) at the rear of the stage and remain statue-still while the seven others bring out ballet barres and degenerate from doing ballet exercises to hanging on the bars like anti-conformist cool kids. (The soundtrack is now Philip Glass.) Later, Yarden Bareket, one of the women, gets up close and personal with each of the four men: nuzzling, clinging, pressing one down to his knees and pulling his face into her belly. This has the tension of taboo breaking. The men stay unresponsive.

All this is formally fascinating, continually inventive and superbly danced. Naharin keeps establishing rules and rhythms, then breaking them. The somber tone is pierced by surprise and Naharin’s cheeky humor — as when, amid a complex stage picture, one man among the seven starts twerking. The choreography for the four men, especially, is shot through with sculptural beauty and brotherly tenderness.

We are having trouble retrieving the article content.

Please enable JavaScript in your browser settings.

Thank you for your patience while we verify access. If you are in Reader mode please exit and log into your Times account, or subscribe for all of The Times.

Thank you for your patience while we verify access.

Already a subscriber? Log in.

Want all of The Times? Subscribe.333beijo777