Review: Cal Performances at UC Berkeley presents Mark Morris Dance Group, MOON, Jan 23-25, 2026, Zellerbach Hall, Berkeley, CA
- Jen Norris
- 17 minutes ago
- 5 min read
On this brisk January weekend, the Mark Morris Dance Group (MMDG) returns to its West Coast home with Morris’s latest creation, MOON. A Cal Performances co-commission, it is greeted with effusive enthusiasm by the crowd in Zellerbach Hall at UC Berkeley. One feels the fruits of the sustaining relationship between presenter and artist and audience that began in 1987, and has grown ever richer with each annual performance since 1994.
The dancing is lush, the visuals transporting, and the ideas are wry, fizzy, playful and wise in this musical pastiche inspired by the moon’s mystique. Just like the varied appearance of our satellite planet, MOON, the show, is revealed in phases, which taken as a whole compose a full hour. An ensemble of nine dancers embodies a series of musical offerings which alternate between classical selections of live piano and double bass, courtesy of MMDG musical director Colin Farrel on keyboards and bassist Michel Taddei, and recordings of popular swing, bluegrass, and country songs from the American songbook of the 1930s and ’40s whose lyrics reference the moon. Snippets of greetings in various languages drawn from the Golden Record, an audio recording placed aboard the two 1977 Voyager spacecrafts as a means of communicating with extraterrestrials, complete the audio score.

2-foot-tall inflated astronaut dolls, by artist Ottmar Hörl, are omnipresent, sometimes lining the stage in great numbers. Other times, a sole figurine observes the dancing, reminding us of the vastness of space and the inconsequential size of one human.
The proceedings are backed by the imaginative videos of designer Wendall K. Harrington. The dotted line trajectory of a rocket ship in orbit, the scientific notation of mathematicians calculating launch trajectories, colorful animated paintings of moonlit tropical seas and stunning images of moonscapes photos set the stage.
Izsak Mizrahi’s costumes, long-sleeved jersey coveralls with solid white fronts and black backs, allow the dancers’ shapes to also echo the phases of the moon. Facing away from us they are dark moonless skies; while facing us, they become luminous full-mooned bodies. Nuances are revealed along the way. As an arm twists, or a body pivots, the vertical side seams flash from dark to light.
While wearing their bifurcated suits throughout, the dancers’ movements bring to life different entities with each new song. Performing barefoot, their movement is decidedly modern and well-grounded. Torsos tip, legs swing, arms reach, knees bend and often people orbit around themselves and others. Morris’s choreography leaves room for interpretation. Some may lean in to his renowned musicality and movement style, others enjoy creating interpretations of the identities and relationships of those onstage. I see planets, humans, space aliens and even weather.
When the arc of a grey-toned cratered surface fills the bottom of the backdrop and the dancers take long drawn-out lunging steps, I see moonwalkers. As they stride confidently, arms pumping, faces open with confidence, I see astronauts ready for launch. As they stand erect, arms tucked closely in, jittering with full-bodied tremulous vibrations, I feel the effects of leaving earth’s orbit in a spaceship.

In one scene, wary but curious, two quartets face off, attempting to communicate with their counterparts. A leader from the left approaches center gesturing emphatically. A trio from the opposition apes those movements, before their own leader advances to share a new gestural message which is quickly taken up by the other side. Back and forth, the chiefs trade signs, until suddenly the mimicry becomes combative and the teams trade volleys of high kicks. Many scenes end with a duo hugging centerstage as if to say love will find a way; in this case, diplomacy soon prevails. The leaders pause at the far corners to nod respectfully to their counterpart before following their brethren who have backed cautiously off the stage.
My favorite section performed to Claude Debussy’s ”Clair de Lune” evokes the romance of space travel and the otherworldliness of the moon. Awash in a saturated glaze of lighting designer Mike Faba’s extraterrestrial sunlight, the dancers tilt dreamily as if suspended in a viscous atmosphere.
Organ music accompanies the numerous shadow sequences performed in crystal clear silhouette against a brightest-white backdrop. Here solo dancers, their bellies supported by a low padded stool on wheels, crawl, paddle and roll across the stage. With the distinct shapes of their human limbs carving through space, they are floaters and swimmers in the cosmos. Over the course of the show the forms seem to evolve to greater complexity, becoming upright sitters gliding along. The final tableau finds pairs of dancers, one seated and one standing behind, creating 4-armed profiles. Their limbs rise symmetrically recalling the inkblot shapes of Rorschach’s psychological tests, for some, conjuring the Hindu deity Shiva, whose four arms symbolize the goals of human life: dharma (righteousness), artha (wealth), kama (desires), and moksha (liberation). Such are the layered possibilities of a Mark Morris dance as it speaks to audiences in myriad ways, never condescending, always uplifting in its delivery.
That said, we live in a time of flagrant artistic censorship. The latest political flashpoint is President Trump’s renaming of the national culture center for the United States, the John F. Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts, for himself. Each week finds additional dance companies and other touring artists assuming financial loses and risking political blowback as they step away from their contracted performances at the Center. So, it is no surprise that Morris and his creative team have found a witty way to assert the supremacy of JFK by opening the show with a clever video montage culminating with a larger-than-life President Kennedy standing behind a podium proudly emblazoned with the seal of the presidency, a fitting tribute to JFK’s role in getting Americans to space and a hope that our nation’s leaders soon return to setting aspirational goals that lift the human endeavor and inspire generations, just as Morris’s work reliably does.
Review by Jen Norris, published January 25, 2026
_________________________
Production Credits
CAL PERFORMANCES AT UC BERKELEY PRESENTS
MARK MORRIS DANCE GROUP
IN THE WEST COAST PREMIERE OF MOON A CAL PERFORMANCES CO-COMMISSION FRIDAY–SUNDAY, JANUARY 23–25, 2026 AT ZELLERBACH HALL
MOON
(West Coast Premiere; A Cal Performances Co-commission)
Music:
György Ligeti – Musica ricercata (1-10)
Marcel Dupré – Vingt-Quatre Inventions, Op. 50 (I, III, IV, VI, XVIII)
Claude Debussy – Clair de lune
“Dawn of A New Day” – Horace Heidt & His Musical Knights
“Roll Along, Prairie Moon” – Al Bowlly
“Blue Moon” – Al Bowlly
“Blue Moon of Kentucky” – Bill Monroe and His Blue Grass Boys
“Dark Moon” – Bonnie Guitar
“Honey-Coloured Moon” – Henry Hall & the BBC Dance Orchestra sung by Hildegarde
Excerpts from NASA’s Golden Record
Projection Design: Wendall K. Harrington
Projection Programmer: Paul Vershbow
Projection Animator: Kristen Ferguson
Costume Design: Isaac Mizrahi
Lighting Design: Mike Faba
Colin Fowler, keyboards; Michel Taddei, double bass
Dancers:
Karlie Budge, Sarah Hillmon, Courtney Lopes, Dallas McMurray, Alex Meeth, Brandon Randolph, Billy Smith, Joslin Vezeau, Noah Vinson





Comments