Each year, New York’s City Center hosts a festival that “brings the best in dance to a broader New York audience for the price of a movie ticket” and this year — which happened to be the 20th celebration — delivered on that promise. While, at $30 a seat, it’s slightly more than a movie ticket in Manhattan you have the added bonus of flat fees – you can sit anywhere in the house (even the front row!) if you’re quick enough to purchase on the day the tickets drop. Rather than inviting visiting troupes for a mini-residency over the festival’s 13 day run, there are 5 different programs spread across the nights – which means you could see 5 different shows (and 15 dance troupes) if you don’t mind trekking back and forth to midtown every other day for 2 weeks.

We were in the house for Program 3 which featured the Houston Ballet (ballet), Jam on the Groove 3 for 30 (hip hop) and the Kaleoolakaikahikinaokalā (hula). The program turned out to be quite man-forward, with each company consisting of only or overwhelmingly men – surely a change of pace for a community obsessed with long-legged prima ballerinas.

The jewel of the night came from the Lone Star State. The Houston Ballet put its own spin on traditional ballet by pairing the expected classical score and technical movements with the occasional surprise – head wiggles, belly slaps, and thigh that move like batwing doors. The ethnically diverse dancers were dressed in shades of flesh-toned leggings reminiscent of a SKIMS campaign and the movement of bodies across the stage was in fierce competition with the movement within the bodies themselves. There was no hiding beneath the close cling of the costumes. Every detail of physique — toned, athletic, and articulate — was on full display and the result is intimate, but not erotic.

Hawaiian’s men’s group Kaleoolakaikahikinaokalā – inaccurately simplified to a “men’s hula troupe” – is an army of dancing, drumming, singing performers telling a story through rhythm, movement and lyric that I wish I could better understand. Admittedly, I don’t know enough about the tradition to fully grasp the narrative of the performance, but it was not to be missed. Adorned with laurel wreaths, their waists were wrapped in billows of yellow fabric. The group moved as a single unit and sang in one voice, which can’t be easy when your hips are drawing circles in double time to the drumbeat.

Conversely, the hip hop performance choreographed by GhettOriginal Production Dance Co. created its most memorable imagery when each performer was in their own element, rather than moving in unison. Each dancer’s personality shone through especially during their closing bow, and during the entire performance I wondered: Were these b-boys they’d found in the wild and brought to the stage? Or dancers they’d taken to the streets to help them find an edge? The performance, which at one point, featured every dancer laying dead from the sound of gunshots left me with another question. Can we tell the story of hip-hop without police brutality? Intuitively, I’m sure the answer is yes, but time and again I’m subjected to this sort of violence on stage. While some (read: white) audience members may need the wake-up call, it’s unnecessarily jarring for others (read: Black) who don’t need to see danger play out on stage to know that it’s real.

Studied collectively, Program 3 balanced old and new, traditional and progressive, and pulled male dancers out from beneath the lifts and supporting roles. It’s a worthwhile way to spend a fall evening. Not ready for the adventure to end? Split an impeccably-grilled octopus tentacle next door at Milo’s and ask the bartender to take you on a tour of Greek wines.