The stage of the Kennedy Center's Terrace Theater is full of men in black suits and women with Marge Simpson-size hair. To the quiet tick of a deep-voiced drum, they strip to their skivvies. Then the four percussionists in the pit lay down a loud backbeat, and the half-clothed dancers start flying crazily through the air. They look like mall rats at a suburban prom--but their airy lifts and arabesques are straight out of Swan Lake.
Can this really be the stodgy old Washington Ballet? None other. Fluctuating Hemlines, a sharply observed portrait of a group of young people who peel...
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