Although the entire audience knew what was coming, we erupt with thunderous applause at the sight of the dancers’ flesh-toned costumes, eyes beaming upwards at the warm spotlight hovering above them as “I’ve been ‘buked, I’ve been scorned…” billows through the theater. The dancers' arms swell out and curve downward; the closer to the front of the stage they are, the further down they sink. The weight of their movement, and the control with which they execute it, are palpable.