It was one of those “I-Have-Seen-The-Future-And-It-Works” declarations. In the mid1980s, a choreographer of my acquaintance, fresh from his first, revelation-filled encounter with the work of Pina Bausch, triumphantly announced that she had shown him the way: the shining path toward dance theater. “Finally,” he declared, “we have a real alternative to the escapist formalism of choreographers like Merce Cunningham.”