She was barefoot at the time and so was Kolesnikov who, in the first half, wore a white top with cutoff sleeves and black shorts — contrived casual — while De Keersmaeker danced in a sheer dark dress that revealed, especially as she became more spry and sweaty, that the only thing she had on underneath was a pair of briefs. (The costumes coordinator was Alexandra Verschueren, while the lighting and set design was by Minna Tiikkainen.) This was a dress pretending that it didn’t want to be sexy. For a time, De Keersmaeker seemed stuck in the same boat.
Around midpoint, De Keersmaeker kicked a pole from the back of the stage to the front; it rolled with jarring force, but before it could cruise off the stage, Kolesnikov got up and stopped it with his bare foot. The performers exited and, after a pause, returned wearing different costumes: Kolesnikov, now more formally attired in a white shirt, black pants and shoes, and De Keersmaeker in slinky flared pants and a large-collared top, both in pale gold.
OK: The gold reference was a bit much. But this new disco vibe seemed to refresh her. At one point, she pointed an arm in the air and struck a pose worthy of John Travolta.
There were times when, with a hint of exhaustion, she signaled the number of the score’s variation. And the stringent, systematic De Keersmaeker even flicked her fingers for bursts of air piano. It was sweetly whimsical. The constricted feeling of the first half dissipated as De Keersmaeker began to lighten up and unwind; she unbuttoned her collar and cuffs. Later, with the stage darkened, Kolesnikov played as De Keersmaeker disappeared into the shadows before returning in yet another look: a sheer pink top and silver sequined shorts.
Now she seemed to relish her body as she dug into the groove of the music, sometimes riding along with it, at other times shrugging it off to Kolesnikov’s emphatic, plush playing. Not long after “Goldberg” was created, De Keersmaeker said in a video interview, “I really love to dance. It’s really not a joke. It’s not vanity. It’s really my way of relating to the world.” In the end, that showed. And she showed up — a more wild version of herself, sequin shorts and all.
Anne Teresa De Keersmaeker, “Goldberg Variations”
Through Feb. 24 at N.Y.U. Skirball, nyuskirball.org
