Lucinda Childs tends to use commonplaces for titles that, in the context of the mute, pristinely geometrical dances they name, work themselves loose from their conventional meanings to become strange. To take some examples from this Bard Summerscape outing, there’s Relative Calm, when, as an experience and a quality, calm is an absolute. Or Available Light—a redundancy, as light always avails itself, whether or not an object obstructs its way to us. As for Momentary Reprise—this selection of new, old, and reimagined works—you’re likely to misread “reprise” as the typical “reprieve.” But both are true. Every return of the renowned 86 year old to the stage is momentous, because there are only so many left—each a reprieve from the final curtain. In the tribute that the program pays to a lifetime of close collaborations—with Frank Gehry and Robert Wilson, who both died last year; with Philip Glass and even with Childs’ own earlier self, to whom she returns in a 1965 solo she will dance, reimagined for the digital age—Momentary Reprise doubles down on this theme of finitude. But the dances themselves proceed like their slippery titles. Like a limb rousing from sleep, they tingle with suppressed life. —Apollinaire Scherr