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    ‘Last Ward’ Review: Ashes to Ashes, Dirt to Dirt

    Yaa Samar! Dance Theater’s production at Gibney is an uncommonly deft combination of dance and verbal theater.Picture a standard, sterile hospital room. From behind a cabinet, an arm snakes out, followed by the rest of the body — a man with serpentine moves who slinks around and creeps under the bed. Immediately, the death implicit in the setting has become visible, corporeal, though still metaphorical, in a particular way. The man suggesting death is a dancer.“Last Ward,” which Yaa Samar! Dance Theater premiered on Thursday at the Gibney: Agnes Varis Performing Arts Center, is a dance work, with choreography by the company’s artistic director, Samar Haddad King. But it’s a play, too, with poetic text by Amir Nizar Zuabi, who also directs the 65-minute production. The uncommonly deft combination of dance and verbal theater heightens the impact of what might sound like a cliché: a profound meditation on life and death.At the center is a patient, played by the accomplished Palestinian actor Khalifa Natour. He and a woman who appears to be his wife (Yukari Osaka) look bewildered as they enter the hubbub of the hospital. Dancers in scrubs skip around and gesture officiously, doing a stylized version of the inscrutable activity that any patient might recognize.The stylization brings out the absurdity, and as Natour receives plant-bearing guests, the physical comedy continues. Two visitors who might be his grown children squabble over proximity to his bed. Later, the medicine he’s given seems to induce hallucinations. A friend (the lithe Mohammed Smahneh, who also plays the serpentine figure at the start) appears to come undone, his body parts all going in different directions.But the stakes remain high, as is confirmed when Natour — who does almost all of the talking, in Arabic, with English supertitles clearly projected onto the back wall — recounts the moment when his doctor gave him his diagnosis.His condition is incurable. Unnamed, it sounds like cancer: “the same power that created life” now “gone wild.” Zuabi’s text and Natour’s understated performance give the disease a terrible beauty: “My cells divide and divide and divide.”This mix of beauty and the awful truth is the text’s power, made more affecting by quotidian details, as when Natour lists “Things You Will Do After I’m Gone.” Earlier, he tells the boyhood story of buying a fish in a plastic bag. On his way home, bullies snatch the bag and toss it to one another. “I could see my fish swimming calmly in midair,” he says, before the bag is dropped and he watches as the fish’s gills open and close and go still — his first understanding of death.Death is all around him in the hospital, of course. The production reminds us of this when dancers wielding IV bags emerge during his fish story. His room opens to a hallway at the rear, and periodically an orderly wheels by with a body on a gurney.And then there is the dirt. It first appears as the food he’s given, an oddity you might not initially notice. But soon dirt is spilling everywhere, despite the desperate efforts of his wife to tidy it up or the semi-comic cleaning routines of staff members (to Jefferson Airplane’s “White Rabbit,” mixed into an effective electronic score by King). As a theatrical metaphor, the dirt is not subtle. It’s strong.The proliferation of dirt summons a memory of Natour’s character helping to bury his grandmother when he was 15. He remembers thinking of her not as the old woman she had become but as the desirable girl she once was, a thought he acts out by shoveling dirt onto a dancer embodying feminine allure. After burying his grandmother, he says, he went behind the house with his girlfriend, undressed and fell to the ground with her “again and again and again.”The repetition of those words echoes the cells that “divide and divide and divide,” the force that will kill him. It’s the “swirl of life” that will fill the void he leaves, a force that King’s choreography gives form to in a swirl of dancers. The inextricable connection between life and death is what “Last Ward” understands. The connection between words and dance, too.Last WardThrough May 12 at Gibney: Agnes Varis Performing Arts Center, Manhattan; gibneydance.org More

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    New York’s Dancehall Parties Are ‘A Different Type of Turn Up’

    This story is part of an occasional series exploring nightlife in New York.CJ Milan was racing around a yacht just after midnight on Sunday, handing out hundreds of foam glow sticks.“When the boat starts moving, we play soca music,” she said with a mischievous smile as she paused for a moment to watch the dance floor. “It gets everybody turned up.”Ms. Milan was running Yacht Fete, a 1,000-person reggae, dancehall, soca and afrobeats party that takes place monthly on the Hudson River.The yacht is just one of the venues that she uses to host her recurring Reggae Fest dance parties, which she started organizing in New York in 2015.The dance floor at Yacht Fete, a monthly party held on a yacht on the Hudson River.DeSean McClinton-Holland for The New York TimesDancehall, a party-friendly byproduct of reggae music with faster tempos and the cadence of hip-hop, came out of Jamaica in the late 1970s.And New York’s dancehall parties, which are often thrown by and for the city’s large Caribbean communities, bring people together on flamboyant dance floors where they can whine, dagger, line dance and drop into full splits.Ms. Milan, who estimates that she has drawn more than 170,000 people to Reggae Fest events in New York over the last seven years, has since expanded the parties to Washington, D.C., Atlanta and Los Angeles.But even as she broadens her reach, she’s still figuring out how to keep picky New York crowds happy.“New York is a different type of turn up,” she said. “We just have so much more to cover music-wise because our city is so diverse.”Partygoers held up foam glowsticks as the yacht left Pier 40 in Lower Manhattan.DeSean McClinton-Holland for The New York TimesShe said that at each of her parties, she tries to have a team of D.J.s ready to play whatever type of music the crowd is responding to most vividly that night.Marvin Smith, who’s known at Reggae Fest as D.J. Legend, said that he plays anything from reggaeton to dancehall to keep people moving.“When I see the hairdos sweated out, when I see people who are looking around like, ‘Where are my keys? Who has my phone?’” Mr. Smith said. “When we see that, we know it’s mission accomplished.”And Ms. Milan said they try to throw something in the mix for every kind of listener.“Dancehall has different levels — some of it is hardcore,” she said, which often appeals to a younger generation. “But then you get the older generation who want to hear Mr. Vegas or Sean Paul.”She added: “Then you got other ones that say, ‘I want that sexy stuff’ — they want to hear what the women have to say,” referring to artists like Spice.Sean Paul performed at Elsewhere, a venue in the Bushwick section of Brooklyn, late last month.DeSean McClinton-Holland for The New York TimesYet there are certain shows that bring out dancehall fans of all kinds. As Sean Paul performed at Elsewhere in Bushwick on April 25, the crowd reflected his fan base, spanning an international and intergenerational mix.Paul, 49, a mellow and singular figure who’s responsible for bringing dancehall to American radio stations in the early 2000s, said that his earliest memories of Jamaican dancehall parties are from when he was 14.He would sneak out with friends to a street party called Frontline, where they would often spot dancehall legends like Tiger and Shabba Ranks and dance under the open night sky.“That was the one thing I didn’t like about clubs here at first,” he said. “You can’t see the stars. You can’t feel the moon, there’s no island breeze blowing on your face while you’re listening to some real, authentic rumbling bass lines.”But when he started coming to New York in the late 1990s, he discovered a more “grimy” dancehall scene with audiences for every niche.One of his favorite spots in the early 2000s was a two-story warehouse in Brooklyn where the parquet floors moved “at least a foot” as people danced.Dancing by the bar to Sean Paul. “It’s the only city that I knew at the time where I was able to hit four clubs in one night,” he said of his early trips to New York.DeSean McClinton-Holland for The New York Times“It’s the only city that I knew at the time where I was able to hit four clubs in one night,” he said before rattling off a list of the places he would visit.“Two clubs in Jersey — one is a Jamaican club, and then one is a Guyanese club,” he said. “And then one in Brooklyn, which is a straight hardcore hip-hop type vibe, and the same thing back up in Manhattan.”But many of the clubs that Paul remembered are now long gone. And while smaller spaces that play Caribbean music are still sprinkled around the city, there are only a handful of parties and shows that consistently bring out thousands of people.Cathy Rodriguez, 25, who was at Ms. Milan’s yacht party last weekend, said that she’s been coming to Reggae Fest parties for years.Often traveling up from the Washington area, where she now lives, Ms. Rodriguez said that she’ll sometimes plan her trips around the parties.Tempest Williams, Aniquiana Kurtz, Christina Mejia, Cathy Rodriguez and Maria Traore posed for a photo on the top deck at Yacht Fete.DeSean McClinton-Holland for The New York Times“I will legit just go out of town for Reggae Fest,” she said. “Like, don’t get me wrong, I will go see my family, of course. But I will be like, ‘Yeah, I’m going to New York and we’re going to Reggae Fest.’”Ms. Rodriguez said that one of the main pulls of the event was the chance to hear her favorite music.“Dancehall will always be my first baby,” she said. “Growing up in New York City, particularly in the Bronx, dancehall has always been a huge part of my life. Like my mom listens to dancehall on Sunday morning when she’s cleaning.”And even beyond her favorite songs, what keeps Ms. Rodriguez showing up again and again is the lively dance floor.“In the Caribbean community, we say ‘stush’ a lot, and stush basically means like, standing still,” she said. “I don’t know if you’ve ever been to a regular nightclub in New York City, but people are like standing still, smoking hookah — you know, they’re not really enjoying themselves to the music.”“CJ’s vision when it comes to Reggae Fest is like, ‘I want people to come, I want people to turn up, but I want people to dance,’” she continued. “That’s why I keep going to her events, because it’s guaranteed I’m going to dance my ass off the whole night.” More

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    ‘For Colored Girls’ to Close on Broadway, Reflecting Tough Season

    The revival, directed by Camille A. Brown, received strong reviews but struggled to attract audiences and overcome challenges posed by Covid.A much-praised revival of “For Colored Girls Who Have Considered Suicide/When the Rainbow Is Enuf,” Ntozake Shange’s classic choreopoem, will close later this month after struggling to find an audience during a tumultuous Broadway season.The show’s producers said Tuesday that the final performance would be May 22, just a month after opening and three months earlier than planned.The closing reflects the challenges of this unusual Broadway season — the first since the pandemic shutdown — when tourism remains down, coronavirus cases are a constant complication, and a large number of shows opened at the same time, making it difficult for any one of them to break out.“For Colored Girls” won strong reviews — in The New York Times, the critic Laura Collins-Hughes deemed it “thrilling and exuberant” — but it has struggled from the get-go; last week, which was its best yet, it grossed $250,000. The show’s audiences, at the Booth Theater, were just 51 percent full, and the average ticket price was $79.“Our numbers were much lower than those rave reviews would justify,” said Nelle Nugent, one of the play’s lead producers. “There are so many choices this season, which is very exciting, but there’s a lot of inventory, and the shows with major stars are doing better. I think there’s also a confusion in the public’s mind about safety.”“For Colored Girls,” a series of monologues about the experiences of Black women set to dance and song, first arrived on Broadway in 1976, and was a hit, running for 22 months. It has been adapted for film and television, and influenced many theater makers.In 2019, the year after Shange’s death, an Off Broadway revival was staged at the Public Theater, directed by Leah C. Gardiner and choreographed by Camille A. Brown. The success of that project led to the Broadway revival, which Brown directed and choreographed.This production, like many others, has been challenged by the coronavirus pandemic — three of the cast members have been out in recent days. And the pandemic took a toll in other ways, as well. “It affected us an extraordinary amount, including the delay of almost two years coming out of the Public, so the momentum we had had dissipated,” Nugent said.In a joint interview, Nugent and Ron Simons, also a lead producer, attributed the closing to a number of factors, including not only the high volume of shows opening on Broadway this spring and the lingering effects of the pandemic, but also a delay in the announcement of Tony nominations, the presence of scaffolding around their theater, and misunderstandings about what their show is.“There is a slight dampening effect for us because of the title — when you read ‘suicide,’ people think it’s going to be a somber play, and not enjoyable,” Simons said. “But it’s not just a play that deals with dark subjects. The show ends on a high note of celebration.”Nugent and Simons said they were hopeful that, by announcing a closing date, audiences would now flock to the show, and said they were open to extending it if there were a sudden surge of interest. Absent that, they said, it would remain necessary to close the show, which was capitalized for $4.85 million. “The decision ultimately is based on economics,” Simons said.“For Colored Girls” is the second Broadway show to announce an unplanned closing this spring because of weak sales. A stage adaptation of “The Little Prince,” which began previews March 29 and opened April 11, announced last week that it would close May 8. More

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    A Broadway Choreographer Who Gets Ideas on the Subway Platform

    5:00a.m. 6:00 7:00 8:00 9:00 10:00 11:00 12:00 1:00 2:00 3:00 4:00 5:00 6:00 7:00p.m. 8:00 9:00 10:00 11:00 12:00 1:00 2:00 3:00 4:00 5:00a.m. 6:00 7:00 8:00 9:00 10:00 11:00 12:00 1:00 2:00 3:00 4:00 5:00 6:00 7:00p.m. 8:00 9:00 10:00 11:00 12:00 1:00 2:00 3:00 4:00 Samuel R. Delany Jonathan Bailey Piet Oudolf […] More

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    Lincoln Center Announces ‘Summer for the City’ Festival

    A festival, Summer for the City, which includes elements of Mostly Mozart, is part of an effort to attract younger, more diverse audiences.After more than two years of upheaval brought on by the coronavirus pandemic, Lincoln Center will stage a festival this summer aimed at helping New York City heal.Called Summer for the City, the festival will take place across 10 outdoor spaces and three indoor stages at the campus from mid-May to mid-August and will be programmed around themes of rejoicing, reclaiming and remembering. It is also part of Lincoln Center’s efforts to recalibrate its image as an exclusive bastion of classical music and appeal to a younger, more diverse crowd.The center plans to feature more popular music and install a large disco ball, 10 feet in diameter, that will hang over a dance floor at the center’s main plaza.“My hope is that we’re making space for people to find their neighbors again, to find each other again and to find their own inner performer,” Shanta Thake, the center’s chief artistic officer, said in an interview. “And to really be in their whole body with other New Yorkers and come back together again as a city.”The festival, which is expected to include over 300 events and 1,000 artists, is the first under Thake, who joined Lincoln Center last year with a mission of broadening its appeal beyond classical music and ballet into genres like hip-hop, poetry and songwriting.This year’s programming will open with a mass singalong on the Josie Robertson Plaza, featuring the Young People’s Chorus of New York, under the direction of Elizabeth Núñez, and including classics like “This Little Light of Mine” and Elton John’s “Your Song.”In August, two versions of Mozart’s Requiem will be on offer — a traditionally presented one, by the Mostly Mozart Festival Orchestra, and a reimagined dance version, “Requiem: Fire in the Air of the Earth,” choreographed by Kyle Abraham and performed by his company, A.I.M, featuring the electronic musician Jlin.Summer in the City will unite the center’s festivals — including the discontinued Lincoln Center Festival and the Mostly Mozart Festival, which has largely been put on hold since 2020.The Mostly Mozart Festival Orchestra will perform six pairs of concerts this summer, including a free opening program in July under the ensemble’s longtime music director, Louis Langrée, with Conrad Tao as the soloist in Mozart’s Piano Concerto No. 17 in G and Gershwin’s “Rhapsody in Blue.” (Tao will also play the William Grant Still solo “Out of the Silence” from “Seven Traceries.”)Thake, a former associate artistic director at the Public Theater, where she spent a decade managing the cabaret-style venue Joe’s Pub, said that she hoped to broaden the audience for Mostly Mozart by integrating it with Lincoln Center’s other summer offerings.“What we’re experimenting with this year is really the breaking down of our internal silos,” she said. “They’re all under the same banner, and this is one Lincoln Center audience that is very broad, and we’re going to see how that works.”Summer for the City aims to build on Restart Stages last year, when the center hosted small-scale performances outdoors, to help get artists back to work after months of pandemic cancellations. According to Lincoln Center, that series attracted more than 200,000 people, nearly a quarter of whom were first-time visitors.The disco ball is the centerpiece of the Oasis, an outdoor stage designed by the costume and set designer Clint Ramos, that will host live music and dance parties throughout the summer.In June, Jazz at Lincoln Center, embracing a New Orleans tradition, will lead a second-line processional from Columbus Circle to Lincoln Center, to mourn those who have died since the pandemic started. And in July, the center will host “Celebrate LOVE: A (Re)Wedding,” as a ceremony for couples who canceled or scaled back nuptials in the past two years, with live music and a reception on the dance floor.The arts, Thake said, “speak to all of the deep trauma that we’ve all collectively been through and also bring so much of the joy and revitalization that the city needs.” More

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    City Ballet Plans Ambitious Season to Help Dancers Get Back Up to Speed

    The company will present a mix of new and old works, including a full-length premiere to Aaron Copland by Justin Peck.The pandemic has been disorienting for New York City Ballet, disrupting the careers of many rising stars and resulting in the loss of millions in ticket revenue.Next season, the company hopes to restore a sense of normalcy by presenting an ambitious mix of new and old works, it announced on Friday, including many ballets meant to help train a younger generation of dancers.“This is a vitamin shot of what we’ve been known for,” Wendy Whelan, City Ballet’s associate artistic director, who helped plan the new season, said in an interview.The 2022-23 season, which will feature 48 ballets from September through May, will include new works by the choreographers Christopher Wheeldon, Keerati Jinakunwiphat and Alysa Pires, among others. The fall fashion gala will feature premieres by the choreographers Kyle Abraham and Gianna Reisen, a recent graduate of the School of American Ballet.In January, the company will present a full-length exploration of the music of Aaron Copland, by Justin Peck, the resident choreographer and artistic adviser, featuring visual designs by the painter Jeffrey Gibson.A major focus will be on presenting large-scale, foundational classics — what Whelan called “very big and very team-oriented ballets” — as part of an effort to train City Ballet’s younger dancers after a series of high-profile retirements.The lineup includes George Balanchine’s “Vienna Waltzes” and “Raymonda Variations” in fall; Jerome Robbins’s “West Side Story Suite” and Peter Martins’s staging of “The Sleeping Beauty” in winter season.“We have a lot of young talent and a lot of flowers blooming,” Whelan said. “We’ve got a lot of people that we want to keep feeding at a high level.”The season will also include several works by the choreographer Alexei Ratmansky, the former artistic director of the Bolshoi Ballet who is now an artist in residence at American Ballet Theater, including his “Concerto DSCH” and “Pictures at an Exhibition.”The pandemic forced the cancellation of City Ballet’s entire 2020-21 season. After returning to the stage in the fall, Whelan said that some dancers expressed an interest in getting more exposure to the rigorous training provided by classics.“Some of them were like: ‘We just want to do ballet. We haven’t done ballet for two years,” she said. “They said, ‘We want to get razor sharp and at this level.’ ”The coming season is “going to make everybody a better dancer,” she added.The coronavirus continues to loom over the performing arts. City Ballet estimates that it has lost $55 million in anticipated ticket sales since the start of the pandemic.While many cultural institutions have pushed forward with full seasons this year, the Omicron variant still poses a challenge. The surge in cases forced City Ballet to cancel 26 shows in December and January, including performances of “The Nutcracker,” typically its most lucrative show of the year.Audience behavior is also changing. At City Ballet, attendance is about 80 percent of prepandemic levels.The possibility of another outbreak is “always at the back of our minds,” Whelan said.Dancers have recently started wearing masks again in studios, she said, amid the uptick in cases in New York.“We’re doing everything we can to keep everybody safe,” she said. More

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    Nebula, a Big New Club, Wants Manhattan to Dance Again

    Yang Gao, a newcomer to the nightlife business, took a gamble when he spent $12 million in the middle of a pandemic to carve out a 10,000-square-foot space in the heart of Midtown.Two years ago, Yang Gao and Richie Romero were watching over a very noisy and very expensive construction project: Digging down, down, down, beneath the floor of an old building on West 41st Street, just off Times Square.Mr. Gao, an entrepreneur, and Mr. Romero, a nightlife impresario, were carving out Nebula, a giant dance club. By blasting into the bedrock, the ceilings could be that much higher — 27 feet above the dance floor.Known in the tabloids as a “club king,” Mr. Romero had definite ideas about what Nebula should and should not be. The main thing was, it had to be the kind of place where people would actually dance, rather than lounge the night away in banquettes.That’s how it used to be when he started going into Manhattan from Queens as a teenager, eager to show off his moves at Tunnel, Palladium and Club USA. Everybody went out on the floor back then. You mingled. You sweated. You got into it. By age 18, Mr. Romero was working as a promoter of parties at Limelight. He was armed with a beeper and a list of more than 2,000 names and numbers. If your name was the list, Richie waved you in.Yang Gao, left, and Richie Romero in one of the V.I.P. rooms in the basement of the club.Dolly Faibyshev for The New York Times“Manhattan was the king of the world back then,” Mr. Romero, 46, said. “The stages were bigger than the DJs. Every DJ wanted to play them.”He was sitting in Nebula’s balcony during off hours. The place was empty and quiet. He recalled an early success he had, taking on the challenge of Monday nights at the China Club and just packing the place.“I was 19 years old,” he said. “I was so excited. I thought I was a big shot.”Manhattan may still be the epicenter of finance and media, but the club scene has moved elsewhere — Miami, Berlin, Las Vegas, even Scottsdale, Ariz. These days, New York is “the little stepsister,” Mr. Romero lamented. And although Marquee is going strong on Tenth Avenue, New York’s nightlife energy has moved on to Brooklyn.With Nebula, Mr. Romero and Mr. Gao are hoping to return Manhattan to its glory nights. Mr. Gao said he plowed some $12 million into the project, a huge gamble to take in the middle of a pandemic, when nightlife was on lockdown.“Dealing with the uncertainty of it all scared the hell out of me,” Mr. Romero said.At 10,000 square feet spread over three levels, Nebula was the largest new nightclub in the city when it opened last September. The main dance floor is 5,000 square feet. A D&B sound system pumps out the beats. Six LED projection screens descend from the ceiling to enclose guests in trance-like visuals.The multimedia aspect has appealed to the tech crowd. “Every NFT company wants to come here and do something,” Mr. Romero said.Nebula has also become a go-to place for newly minted 13-year-olds: “Funny,” he added. “We’re like the king of the bar mitzvahs now.”The private events, which take place on weeknights, are a lucrative sideline to the main attraction: weekend dance parties with top DJs from around the world, including Jamie Jones, Artbat and Eric Prydz, all of whom are scheduled to perform at Nebula this month.A clubber at Nebula.Dolly Faibyshev for The New York TimesAs New York’s clubs have become more lounge-like in recent years, with a focus on bottle service for high rollers who lay out $10,000 to $20,000 for a private table, Nebula is decidedly old school.“I want to capture the people that are artistic, that are able to go into the club and appreciate the music,” said Mr. Gao, Nebula’s owner.Mr. Gao, 42, is new to the nightlife industry. A classically trained oboist who once played in the Hong Kong Philharmonic Orchestra, he said he has a hand in several businesses, including a wine store in Astoria and East River party boats. About five years ago he started looking for club space in Manhattan, insisting the ceiling height be at least 21 feet. After signing the lease in late 2018, he sought out Mr. Romero.Nebula’s location has a long history in clubland. It was formerly Saci, Show and Arena. Most recently, it housed Circle, a Korean American spot that defined going out for a generation of the Asian and Asian American communities in New York until it closed in 2018. Mr. Romero promoted parties at all of those venues, except Circle. In recent years, he drifted out of nightlife and got into quick-service restaurants, opening a pizza chain, Zazzy’s, only to be lured back by Mr. Gao.“I believe in good bones. And this room always had good bones,” said Mr. Romero, who speaks at 200 beats per minute. “Sat down. Saw the vision. Came in here. We started putting it all together and made Nebula Nebula.”Business boomed in the brief window between opening and Omicron, Mr. Romero said. Since then, supply chain problems have led to shortages of Don Julio 1942, the club’s most popular tequila. The banquettes meant for the edges of the main dance floor didn’t arrive until last week.For those who remain wary of big crowds, Mr. Gao designed private rooms at the basement level, each with its own sound system, lights and bathroom. Despite reports of coming Covid-19 waves, he said he is optimistic.“I know that people want to come out,” Mr. Gao said. “People long for human interactions. That’s when I decided that this sector isn’t going away.”Saturday night at Nebula.Dolly Faibyshev for The New York TimesAt 12:30 a.m. on a recent Tuesday, Nebula’s main dance floor was nearly full. As images flashed on the LED screens, several hundred clubgoers were dancing to Lady Gaga’s “Poker Face.” The event was Tuesday Baby Tuesday, a night set aside for people who work at nightclubs.“It’s an industry night,” Jonas Young-Borra, 37, a musician and former male model who described himself as the “left-hand, right-hand” to Mr. Romero, said over the music. “You get people from other clubs who can’t go out on the weekends, plus the 21 and up crowd.”Mr. Romero, who stood watching the action on the dance floor, said that, in terms of the crowd, this was a bit slow for a Tuesday. He promised a bigger turnout the following week, when 50 Cent would be making an appearance. But after two years of social isolation, it was incredible all the same to see hundreds of bodies so close together, without masks or discernible phobias. Hostesses brought Champagne bottles topped with sparklers to the V.I.P. section.New York has changed since Mr. Romero’s Limelight youth, but he was determined that some things would not.“It’s important,” he said, “that we keep Manhattan thriving.” More

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    ‘La Mami’ Review: Tough Love

    This documentary about the den mother of dancers at a Mexico City cabaret is vérité at its best.At the Cabaret Barba Azul, women get paid to dance and drink with the male patrons, a custom that dates back to the 1930s. In the beautifully-rendered documentary “La Mami,” the director and cinematographer Laura Herrero Garvín (“The Swirl”) immerses us in the behind-the-scenes world of these dancers through the lens of their den mother: Doña Olga. Like them, Doña Olga also used to spend her nights dancing for pesos, but after 45 years working various jobs at the cabaret to support her five children, she has settled into her post in the club’s dressing room-bathroom combo. There she regulates the distribution of toilet paper with an iron fist, and doles out a charming mix of motherly nurturing and fierce rebukes. Like this bit of poetry: “Men are only good for two things: for nothing, and for money.”Garvín’s adept camerawork allows the story to unfold so seamlessly in its vérité style, that the film emanates the magic of a scripted drama without revealing any noticeable interference. And it creates a palpable depth of intimacy too: from Doña Olga waving incense and whispering prayers throughout the club before the doors open, to the nervous new girl Priscilla putting on makeup in the mirror.The triumph of “La Mami” is that in depicting how Doña Olga and the Barba Azul dancers navigate a job where male pleasure dominates, the film does not look down on them, but instead revels in their humanity. And in so doing, this remarkable portrayal of female friendship offers a poignant, elemental take on the lives of working-class women in urban Mexico today.La MamiNot rated. In Spanish, with subtitles. Running time: 1 hour 21 minutes. In theaters. More