The world in motion

“Sacred Monsters” is a public dialogue in speech and motion between two artists supremely skilled in different forms of classical dance -- artists who share as well a long commitment to contemporary expression. It brings together dancer-choreographer Akram Khan, a master of kathak, one of India’s more brilliant classical idioms, and Sylvie Guillem, a ballet star famed for her technique and daring.

Their 70-minute performance Wednesday in the UCLA Live series in Royce Hall represented not only a starry novelty act but also an affirmation -- exactly when we needed it -- that cultural isolation can be shattered, that East and West can happily coexist and grow productively from person-to-person exchange.

UCLA, of course, is an internationally recognized center for this kind of work -- much of it far more experimental than the Khan/Guillem show. But “Sacred Monsters” uses our fascination with celebrity and plenty of charm to popularize the type of collaboration you can find, season after season, down the steps from Royce in Kaufman Hall.

Indeed, Khan and Guillem spend plenty of time and energy undermining anything fearsome in their reputations, mocking the title of the program by speaking of their personal and professional insecurities.

Quizzical actions accompany the talk. He keeps crumbling out of formal arm positions, as if unable to maintain control. She’s so in control that she manipulates her limbs as if they’re just furniture. And out of these movement statements, dances emerge.

Choreographed by kathak specialist Gauri Sharma Tripathi, a solo for Khan exploits intricate barefoot percussive rhythms (emphasized, in traditional kathak style, by ankle bells) and a darting, gorgeously fluid gestural vocabulary. He’s wearing a T-shirt over loose trousers, but the dancing harks back centuries to the heyday of the Mughal Empire in India.

Guillem’s solo -- choreographed by Taiwanese modernist Lin Hwai Min -- juxtaposes glimpses of formal classicism with anticlassical inversions: One of her impossibly high, pointed-toe extensions suddenly warps, for example, or she unexpectedly falls into whiplash floor-rolling, reminding you of her childhood training as a gymnast.

Using the talents of composer Philip Sheppard and a fine five-member musical ensemble, Khan has created a series of contrasting duets set in a new world of motion where he and Guillem are immigrants. The cultural parity extends to gender equality (no ballet partnering stances, no sense that he’s the lifter and she’s the liftee), so what you’re seeing could be danced by two women, two men, whatever.

There’s playful contact, intimacy, even a suggestion of romance, but it all seems to come from what Khan and Guillem love about dancing. And that’s plenty.

In one duet, they hold hands, explore that linkage in elaborate face-to-face maneuvers, then break apart to mirror each other. Almost robotic jump-cuts from move to move define another duet, with the result looking something like a doll dance but more convulsive. The relationship sometimes get aggressive, and at one point Khan literally blows Guillem down, as if a puff of his breath could send her flying. She beats him on the head in retaliation, but the battle doesn’t last long.

Soon, they’re slow dancing in some cosmic ballroom to Sheppard’s soulful cello, Guillem hanging off Khan’s waist, legs locked around him. A spectrum of lifts, supports and unison backbends give this duet variety without disturbing the lyrical flow or the sense that’s it’s one sustained embrace.

The final duet expands from unison arm swings to stamps with swings and then greater complexities before doubling back -- but Khan and Guillem again deliberately undercut their prowess by pretending that the final musical flourish takes them by surprise. They shrug as if they’ve blown it, but of course that’s just another classic stoop-to-conquer strategy.

Why all their dances, repartee and self-mockery take place in what looks like a prehistoric ice-cave only set designer Shizuka Hariu knows, but Khan, Guillem and the musicians make even this chilly environment a warm comfort zone.

Besides Sheppard, the accompanists include Alies Sluiter, Coordt Linke, Faheem Mazhar and Juliette Van Peteghem.

lewis.segal@latimes.com