Laura Jacobs acknowledges that Mark Morris is the natural heir to Balanchine. But then he peaked. And it’s been downhill ever since. “I became disenchanted with Mark Morris in the 1990s. I tired of a gender neutrality that yet left women with the short end of the stick, mainly because the dances showed so little interest in la femme (these girls are kind of like Anybodys in West Side Story, heartfelt tomboys). And Morris’s gift for metaphor began to seem played out, or perhaps abandoned, as if he was no longer interested in his most fundamental poetic device. Metaphor, after all, is artifice. It was increasingly clear that Morris’s early work was his best work, and it never got better than Dido and Aeneas.”