Mark Morris doesn’t care about the moon per se. “I’m not doing a Ken Burns special,” he said at the advent of his Moon, last spring. As usual, the celebrated choreographer is drawn to the human end of the telescope—the “mystery, curiosity, ritual, superstition, glamor, and art” that the waxing and waning planetary satellite inspires in us. For the hour-long, nine-person dance, Morris has set early popular songs about the blue, the dark, the honey-colored, and the prairie moons, as well as Space Age recorded messages from “earthlings” to potential extraterrestrials, against spooky modern music with a retroactive sci-fi edge, such as Ligeti’s Eyes Wide Shut piano plonks and Marcel Dupré’s airless organ Inventions. Isaac Mizrahi has fashioned the dancers’ two-toned onesies, and Wendall K. Harrington has wrested from slide projection—the dorky domain of the classroom—a celestial design. —Apollinaire Scherr