Next Anderson dresses and undresses repeatedly while Mills makes cramped gestures downstage, and I am distracted by the video. As a dancer, Ellis Wood could not be more different from Mills. Compact and richly muscled, this woman doesn't wait for anything to happen. She slides boldly through space, and commands it to grow around her, always aware of the volume of the stage space, and of the stage as a frame. I imagine how much Stephen Petronio must miss having her in his company.
Wood is in the midst of some kind of erotic-spiritual crisis.
Wood's dramatic intent is confused, but when she just dances I could watch her all night. Grace doesn't emerge as the work's real issue. It's great to see young choreographers commissioning music, but Scott Westerfeld's beyond-slick score mostly gets in Wood's way. The music consists of slow, raunchy grooves, with layers of iconic samples from female vocalists cycling on top. The music refers to vocal images of womanhood, but doesn't articulate a point of view beyond its seductive surface.