NYC VIEW.

At the intersection of philosophy, physics, and art is The Hanging Man, directed by Czech mime-actor-director, Ctibor Turba (The Kitchen, March 3-6, 1999). A series of short vignettes explore the expressive possibilities of bodies hanging upside down. The opening solo gets our attention: Petr Kruseclnicky, hanging by one foot for six minutes, kicks his free leg, making him twist and flail like a snared animal; our perception of up is suspended.

The dozen subsequent solos, duets, and a trio challenge the four hardy performers' circulatory systems, but are less compelling. Deeper kinetic exploration of the hanging premise before seeking emotional connotations would have yielded a richer movement palette, perhaps. In The Counted Time of Being intellectual concept is more intriguing than result, as Kamil Bystricky dribbles sand from his hooded pate onto a mirrored floor. More fascinating is Halka Tresnakova's remarkable etude for her extravagantly limber, seemingly disembodied tongue.

Physics truly achieves poetry in a short romance, where Ondrej Lipovsky, boots bolted to the ground, tilts precipitously, as Halka aTresnakova swings above him by her ankles. Their sensual contact is restricted to faces and hands, its urgency intensified.