Fleurs de Cimetiere / Age Freckles and Other Tall Stories

Whether by artistic design or happy accident, France-hailing Cie Herve-Gil's meditation on growing older just blooms deeper and more beautiful the longer it goes on.

A reunion of women sit chatting in summer light. One of them (Fransoise Simon) wants to talk but doesn't know what to say. So she listens while the others take turns instead, speaking through minute, carefully controlled gestures; a float of the hand, a slow sweep of the spine.

Interspersed with Simon's philosophical musings—which really hit their stride when she begins talking directly to the audience—dancers filter in ones and twos onto the floor, to a soundtrack that mixes and mashes baroque, folk and a beautiful puirt a beul song, as ancient and wise as the voice that sings it. There's a thoughtful, considered quality to the motion that demands you notice its details; tiny steps, careful drops. No flashy gestures here; there doesn't need to be in a consort of dancers who know their bodies so wisely and well.

The dance's intelligence is mirrored by the sentiments in Dominique Wittorski's script, which trips over subjects of gender, youth and age. Eventually the meaning behind the piece's name is revealed (to an audience gasp): "flowers of the cemetery" is French slang for age freckles.

But there is nothing funereal flowering here. A grand performance full of inspirational grace, Fleurs de Cimetiere shows that in growing up there's a lot to look forward to.