Choreographing Goodbye: A Journey Through "Opera Game" and "Senary"

And so, the final performance of Skunkworks Dance is upon us: FOREVER.

As always, it brings me great joy to share not only the works themselves, but the heart and creative process behind them—to welcome you into the world where movement becomes magic. This concert holds a special weight for me. These are the last pieces I will create within the walls of Skunkworks, and each one carries a piece of my soul.

So come in. Step into the stories. Let the work speak, and may you feel what we’ve lived, created, and shared—together.

🎭 FOREVER – Live Show Details:

📅 Friday, April 4 & Saturday, April 5

🕡 6:30 PM

📍 Unitarian Church of Evanston

🎫 $30 Adult | $20 Student | FREE for current dancers(Tickets available at the door – cash preferred)

Step inside the mystique behind my full-length, immersive Company work Opera Game—and then scroll down for a special behind-the-scenes glimpse into Senary, my Ballet Minor piece.

Your first look at Opera Game!

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The Final Move Opera Game

Wow, where to begin...

I am honored and humbled to share Opera Game, my most ambitious and deeply personal work for Skunkworks. Knowing this was my final semester with dancers I view as family—artists I’ve mentored, learned from, and watched grow into bold, engaged, and imaginative creators—I knew I had to “leave it on the floor”, as I often say to them.

For this final concert, I felt called back to the world of storytelling—of immersive, cinematic, and symbolic work. As many ideas do, this one came to me in fragments, but when I “find it”—when the idea truly lands—I know. That moment arrived while watching a clip from Alexander McQueen’s Spring/Summer 2005 fashion show It’s Only A Game, in which models presented the collection while playing a live chess match. It was epic—sharp, visionary, theatrical. That spark transported me to the iconic wizard chess scene in Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone, a moment that profoundly shaped my imagination as a young artist. And almost instantly, I was brought back to Checkmate, my final piece at TCU. While not about chess, it explored character, structure, and linear movement in a way that never left me.

Suddenly, everything aligned. Ding! I knew: this final Skunkworks Company work would unfold through a real chess game—played live, move by move, onstage.

Then came the question: which game?

After researching dozens of famous matches, one rose above the rest—Paul Morphy vs. Duke Karl (1858), often called one of the greatest chess games of all time. Celebrated for its boldness, rapid-fire development, and masterful sacrifices, it perfectly captured the concepts I wanted to explore: risk, precision, time, transformation, and surrender.

As I began dreaming up the movement, music started to echo in my mind. I kept returning to the grandeur and emotional weight of classical music—something that could meet the scale of the piece, both narratively and spiritually. Over and over, Mozart’s Requiem came to me. But none of the recordings I found felt quite right. I kept searching. And in that search, I fell deeper into the world of Mozart himself.

The lore surrounding his death drew me in. Was he poisoned? What illness took him so young? Why did he believe he was composing his own funeral mass? At the time of writing Requiem, Mozart had just endured a series of personal and professional disappointments. He reportedly told his wife he felt death was approaching—and that this would be the last thing he ever wrote. The piece was left unfinished, a final mystery. To this day, composers continue to interpret its ending in their own ways, each version a slightly different farewell.

It was in this space—the tension between what is known and what is unknowable—that Opera Game found its second layer.

And finally, I discovered the recording I had been waiting for: a 2024 version by Ensemble Pygmalion and Raphaël Pichon. It was everything I had imagined—explosive, reverent, urgent, and hauntingly beautiful. With the match selected and the score found, the work began to take form. Not just a game. Not just a dance. A meditation on genius and mortality. On legacy. On letting go.

And then, as if the creative universe whispered back, I discovered the name of the match I’d chosen: “Opera Game.”

It was already there, waiting for me.

A perfect title. A perfect moment. And the beginning of this final creation.

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Your second look at Opera Game!

Spoiler alert—read no further if you wish to experience Opera Game with fresh eyes.

What follows is a full journey through the narrative arc of the piece—each twist, revelation, and unfolding moment laid bare. For those who want to walk in knowing the path ahead, proceed. For those who prefer to discover it in real time, let the curtain rise and meet it as it comes.

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The Story Behind Opera Game

Created by Jana Bennett

Opera Game begins with Company Apprentice Meir as Mozart, hearing and seeing the fragile beginnings of what will become Requiem, Mozart's greatest work (“Antienne, in Paradisum”). At the same time, he starts to see glimpses of his own death—an image he tries to push away, resisting the darkness he knows is creeping toward him. Dancers then emerge in stark white, wearing white masks—representing Mozart’s subconscious and the fragmented figures of his life, “Misere Mei”. The masks symbolize the liminal space between reality and the subconscious, echoing the death masks that will one day be made of him.

The dancers enter the space outside the chessboard, symbolizing that we are still in the world of Mozart’s head and not yet in the game. They conduct with him as Requiem begins to write itself. At the end of "Misere Mei," the dancers form a frozen, picture-like tableau around him, a living homage to Henry Nelson O’Neil’s painting, The Last Moments of W. A. Mozart. From the shadows, the dancer with the red balloon—played by Company Member Josie—quietly observes, while Mozart’s grieving wife, Constanze Weber—played by Company Member Eleanor—stands behind him.

As the dancers foreshadow his death, we move into "I. Introitus." Mozart (Meir) wanders through the stillness, bewildered. He sees flickers of his masterpiece coming to life and begins to feel death draw near, though he does not yet recognize the truth. He is not ready.

The dancers break the painting and begin telling their characters’ stories through gesture and mime—how they came here and what roles they now play. As they exit, the dancer with the red balloon returns (Josie), slithering around Mozart, tempting him with a foreboding gesture of death, "The Apple." But he does not see it; it hasn’t yet reached his consciousness. Mozart’s wife, Constanze (Eleanor), begs him to stop writing his Requiem, to compose something joyful. She insists: he will not die.

The pageantry begins. Enter Paul Morphy, played by Company Member Emmeline—the American chess prodigy. Maskless and in a hospital gown, Morphy begins transforming the space into a chessboard. He will play White and be the White King (Emmeline). Mozart is transformed into his opponent: Duke Karl II of Brunswick, playing the Black side and the Black King (Meir).

The White side assembles in white hospital gowns: the White Queen—played by Company Apprentice Zohar, White Bishop—played by Company Trainee Natasha, and White Rook— played by Company Member Josie, alongside pawns and other pieces. The Black side joins them in blue hospital gowns: the Black Queen—Mozart’s Wife Constanze (Eleanor), the Black Knight—played by Company Member Meg, and the Black Rook— played by Company Trainee Lydia. The two Kings—Morphy (Emmeline) and the Duke/Mozart (Meir)—shake hands. The game begins.

"II. Kyrie" begins with the players introducing their chess characters through overlapping gesture motifs, each establishing their signature movement language. These rituals, like a living family crest, prepare them for battle.

Time freezes. An eerie melody, "Ne Pulvis Et Cinis, K. 122," begins. The White Rook (Josie) is revealed to be the dancer with the red balloon. She moves with serpentine elegance and striking power, her physicality echoing a fated connection to the Black King. She haunts him.

The game begins: a pawn placed by Morphy (Emmeline), answered by one from the Duke (Meir). The board stirs to life.

After a Black Bishop (Eleanor) is moved to the center of the board, the first death arrives—a White Pawn (Natasha) strikes down its Black counterpart (Meir). Chaos erupts: the first of many clashes between the two sides in "III. Sequentia: 1. Dies Irae."

More deaths follow: a White Knight (Josie), a Black Bishop (Eleanor), another White Pawn (Emmeline)—lost during "III. Sequentia: 3. Rex Tremendae." The game continues, each side advancing, receding, striking.

The next major battle unfolds in "III. Sequentia: 5. Confutatis": the Battle of the Quartet of Duets. A Black Pawn (Meg) meets a White Knight (Zohar); another Black Pawn (Eleanor) faces the same Knight (Zohar), and again against the White Bishop (Natasha). In the midst of it all, the White Rook/Dancer with the Red Balloon (Josie) reappears, enticing the frozen Duke/Mozart with siren-like music. “The Apple”—gesture of death— reappears and is offered but not yet received.

The Battle of the Quartet of Duets ends with three deaths: a Black Pawn (Meg), a White Knight (Zohar), and another Black Pawn (Eleanor). The White King/Morphy (Emmeline) grieves alongside the fallen, "III. Sequentia: 6. Lacrimosa - Amen."

As the board shifts again, the White King/Morphy (Emmeline) begins anticipating the endgame. A sudden clash breaks out—White Rook (Emmeline) vs. Black Knight (Meir). The surviving pieces cry out, pledging allegiance to their Kings in "IV. Offertorium: 1. Domine Jesu Christe." More chaos erupts as the White Bishop (Natasha) and Black Rook (Lydia) join the fray.

Time pauses. Morphy/White King (Emmeline) replays the game in his mind. The board resets—moves reviewed, choices revisited—"IV. Offertorium: 2. Hostias." The earlier duel resumes and ends in the deaths of the Black Knight (Meir), the White Rook (Emmeline), and the Black Rook (Lydia).

The board freezes once more. Constanze (Eleanor) reenters, finally accepting the truth of Mozart’s impending death. She vows to be with him through the end—to catch him when he falls—"2 Kirchenlieder." Two duets unfold, reflecting their love, their bond, their grief.

The game resumes. The Black Knight (Meg) defeats the White Bishop (Natasha) with a fierce blow, then turns to challenge the White Queen (Zohar)—"VII. Agnus Dei." In a final moment of pride, the Black Knight (Meg) declares their loyalty to the Black King (Meir) before launching their final attack.

The White King/Morphy (Emmeline) reveals the path to victory to the White Queen (Zohar)—but it requires sacrifice. She struggles, afraid but resolute. She battles the Black Knight (Meg), putting up a brave fight. In the end, she chooses to surrender herself.

The White Queen (Zohar) walks toward her fate—"Silence." Her death clears the path for checkmate.

The White Rook/Dancer with the Red Balloon (Josie) returns for the final blow. She and the Duke/Black King/Mozart (Meir) engage in one last duel, both drained. At last, he sees her—and “The Apple,” the death gesture—for what it is. With a conducting baton, The White Rook/Dancer with the Red Balloon (Josie) pops the red balloon, revealing herself as Salieri, Mozart’s greatest rival. She hands him “The Apple.” He takes a bite. It is poisoned.

The game ends.

In "VIII. Communio," reality blurs. The line between game and life, dream and death, dissolves. Constanze (Eleanor) returns, accepting what is to come. She urges Mozart (Meir) to finish the Requiem.

Morphy/White King (Emmeline) claims victory. Mozart (Meir), now the Duke and White King no longer, lays down his King. Checkmate. The board clears. The baton returns to his hand. He is Mozart again.

With the last of his strength, Mozart (Meir) completes enough of Requiem to be finished after his death. It is declared his greatest work.

The white dancers return, forming the painting once more. As promised, Constanze (Eleanor) catches Mozart (Meir) as he falls. The work is done.

In the final section—"Antienne, in Paradisum II—Mozart awakens in the afterlife. Surrounded by those he loved, he strips off his hospital gown, understanding its significance. For the first time, he sees his life clearly—and with peace.

And in the hush of the final bow, he finds forever.

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My Final Note

Opera Game is my gift to the dancers and the Skunkworks community who gave so much of themselves—who supported, believed in, and breathed life into this little dream of mine. This work speaks to an authentic artistic voice's brilliance, artistry, and power. It brings forward the full spectrum of what it means to let go: the ache of sadness, the swell of joy, the tension of fight, the hum of anxiety, the weight of grief, and, finally, the stillness of peace.

I often return to one of the reasons I chose Mozart’s Requiem. His music has transcended centuries—and will continue to echo through generations to come. Though this may be the final chapter of Skunkworks in its current form, what we created here will live on in each of us. Like Requiem—a close to Mozart’s life, yet an open invitation for endless reinvention—Skunkworks will continue to evolve and live anew in every dancer, family member, and artist who touched this space.

To my extraordinary Company dancers—thank you. Thank you for diving in, trusting the process, and holding the structure of this work with precision and imagination. Thank you for playing the game with honesty. For leaping with me into this last rollercoaster of a ride. This piece may be my best to date, but more than that, it has been the most meaningful. I will carry the memory of this semester—and all of you—with me for the rest of my life.

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From One to Six: A Ballet Unfolds

Senary began with three sparks: a curiosity about structure through movement and number, the mystique of “6,” and the profound influence of William Forsythe’s In the Middle, Somewhat Elevated (Paris Opera Ballet, 1987).

I first encountered Forsythe’s groundbreaking ballet as a college student, and it changed everything for me. With its stark, charged soundscape and raw physicality, In the Middle shattered the story-first model of ballet and placed movement—pure, unfiltered movement—at the center. The dancers, launching themselves through angular extremes at blistering speeds, left me breathless. The work was ferocious, electric, and impossibly precise. It was ballet—but reimagined.

What continues to captivate me in watching professional dancers is the fusion of athleticism and artistry—an Olympic level of physicality paired with an unshakable creative voice. It’s that alchemy that I find endlessly inspiring.

For our last concert—and my first time leading the Ballet Minor since its founding—I felt called to honor that inspiration. Senary is my tribute to Forsythe, to the legacy of that pivotal work, and to the idea that ballet can be both structured and boundary-breaking.

This is a ballet built on the simple complexity of numbers. The choreography moves through configurations: solo (1), duet (2), trio (3), quartet (4), quintet (5), and sextet (6). These numeric structures are foundational in ballet—and in Senary, they’re used as a framework through which movement, not narrative, is the storyteller.

Inspired by Forsythe’s approach, I challenged the dancers to take risks—to push the edge of what’s possible physically, to let the choreography become the meaning. Much of the movement was generated collaboratively, honoring the dancers’ voices while remaining rooted in the central themes.

As you watch, I invite you to reflect:

• Beyond story, what elements shape your experience of this work?

• How does your perception shift as the dance moves from solos to ensembles? What nuances emerge in each grouping?

• Where do you see risk—physical, emotional, creative? What might it awaken in your own life?

Senary is both homage and experiment, a meditation on structure and freedom, and a celebration of the dancer as both athlete and artist.

I hope you enjoy the show!

With love,

Jana Bennett

Founder and Director, Skunkworks Dance