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Boy ballerinas who have power to spare

They have no bosoms to speak of, the ballerinas of the Trocks — but hey, your average female etoile doesn’t have them either.

They have no bosoms to speak of, the ballerinas of the Trocks — but hey, your average female etoile doesn’t have them either. Their bejeweled bodices occasionally expose tufts of chest hair. But the main thing you notice about the members of Les Ballets Trockadero de Monte Carlo is what fabulous dancers they are and how much they love what they do.

Some are a little stubby, a little thick in the middle; others are gloriously tall, close to seven feet en pointe, trailing tiny cavaliers who struggle to keep up. Watching them at the intimate Joyce, where they’re this season’s Christmas treat, you savor their high cheekbones, their exquisite technique, their vestigial wings.

Performing excerpts (and sometimes entire works) from the classical repertoire, the 17 international men of the Trocks represent 36 years of touring the world “en travesti,” delivering the satisfactions of ballet and a whole lot more. They drop unexpectedly — and painfully — into splits, bang into the scenery and dance under the apparent influence of Ambien — or more illicit drugs. Paul Ghiselin is deadpan and glorious as the Dying Swan, fluffing her tutu, letting her feathers drift to the floor like autumn leaves.

Choreographers from Petipa-Ivanov to Merce Cunningham get the Trockadero treatment on two different programs. Artistic director Tory Dobrin and his game staff provide extremely funny stage names, program notes and biographies for the ensemble, which borrows its style from Europe’s original Ballets Russes. Bring your inner drag queen, grandma and the kids to enjoy their antics, their make-up and their utter devotion to their art form.

 
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