Pina Bausch’s signature moves—the episodic structure, the full-frontal confessions, the absurd and gorgeously cinematic mise-en-scènes—have become so ubiquitous that the original should have grown obsolete. But a decade and a half since her death, the German choreographer is as popular as ever, with her Wuppertal troupe still packing houses on a never-ending tour. How to account for her staying power? Bausch knew how to put on a show. For the 1982 Nelken (Carnations), the curtain rises on a stage blanketed in 8,000 carnations. An Amazon in underpants and an accordion strapped to her chest marches over the flowers. Men scatter like bunnies as Alsatian hounds look on. A fellow renders a lush Caetano Veloso cover of “The Man I Love” in earnest sign language. By night’s end the players have confessed their secrets, trampled the flowers, and moved us. —Apollinaire Scherr