Great! You still have a chance to see David Neumann's brilliant creation, "Sentence," at P.S. 122.

We were there tonight and I can honestly tell you that it was one of the richest theatrical performances I have had the fortune to witness. But it's not really just theatre, and "witness" is not the right word. I suppose David is technically a dancer and choreographer, yet what he creates even goes beyond theatre. It's really more like literature, but experienced, not read, with music coming out of nowhere and everywhere.

And very very smart.

If you have ever seen anything like it, and I really doubt you have, it was not done nearly as well. If you haven't seen Neumann, and cannot imagine what I'm talking about, imagine going to the theatre in a country you love very much but whose language you do not know, yet you leave with the feeling that you have been a full participant in the experience, nothing was missing, and it was very beautiful.

Oh heck, just go!

From a "the dance insider" review of an earlier version of the work now at P.S. 122:

"Sentence" is loosely based on Donald Barthelme's Joycean prose/poem (an eight-page sentence.) In and around the Whitney's atrium, "Sentence" became in moments a wild and wily romp through interactive pedestrian performance and at other times clever, well executed site-specific choreography. Andrew Dinwiddie's security guard is calmly surrounded by track suit clad dancers. We gaze beyond the subtle shifts of Erin Wilson and Neumann to see a pink, velour clad Orlando Pabatoy riding his bicycle. Adrienne Truscott leads a group of tourists outside, a few other people stop to look through the glass at us and we begin to see narratives in every passerby.

Neumann weaves together fleeting dances, momentary encounters and brief passages of spoken word written by Will Eno to unravel his ephemeral world. Here nothing fits together quite naturally and nothing ends finite. Truscott leads her group into the atrium, discovering the dance already in progress. Her performance is fully successful as she bridges the outer and inner worlds with poetic commentary on the action of the dancers. She is both cliched cruise director and thoughtful connoisseur as she scolds her uninterested, exiting wards. Here we witness a beautiful moment of performance supported wittily with a self-conscious commentary on itself.