The show isn’t specifically about Halloween, but it’s a nod to that holiday, with many dark and simply surreal elements. There’s bit of irony there because CORE stands for “Collection of Real Experiences.” Though much of the show is indeed surreal, the range of emotions and underlying human experiences were definitely real.

Promotional materials and the pre-show announcement warned that we might be “creeped out” by some of what we would see. In fact, even the pre-show experience was unnerving. Performers, singly or in groups of 2 or 3, moved across the Harris Center stage, sat on the edge, ventured into the audience — mostly with severe or blank expressions. It was as if they were checking us out to see if they approved of us. And I didn’t sense any approval.

The show began, appropriately, with a door around which the choreography of the first scene or "room" revolved. Obviously, the door was a symbol. I think of a door as something that opens onto something new, perhaps something surprising and completely unexpected — and that describes the progression of this show. There were doors — one to four — in nearly every scene, and it is such continuity that holds interest and prompts speculation and thought in the viewer. Then there was the feather-adorned hat that appeared in every scene, usually passed from one dancer to another or snatched away. It, too, was clearly a symbol — but of what?  Maybe a symbol of whatever you needed it to be to make sense of the unfolding story.

The performers often looked out to the audience to communicate, but I kept asking myself, “What does it all mean?” Maybe the key to meaning was the emotion. And indeed, there were emotions of all kinds. I’ve seen dances where the dancers seemed intent and focused but emotionally neutral. Not so this performance. The dancers were actors, and the difference began with the expressiveness of their faces. But of course, it was primarily movement that delivered the emotional message. The variety and creativity of the choreography from one scene to the next — or within each scene — was such that it seemed to me that no move or formation, no matter how fleeting, was repeated. And yet at that, the moves in each scene seemed to be consistent with the theme of the scene. And for me, the whole show was a revelation of the richness of movement of which the human body is capable.

Every scene (as I recall) included “Principal Character,” Tina DeVine. As the pivot point for the action, I began to imagine that the show was her dream or perhaps a symbol of the progression of the events in her life. My struggle to grasp meaning (a challenge thrown down by choreographer Kelli Leighton) certainly held my attention, though it was a little like watching a foreign movie without dubbing or subtitles.

That said, there were many scenes where the meaning was transparent. The promise of “creeping out” was fulfilled when toward the end of Act 1 everything turned decidedly dark, with stage fog, black capes and eventually even gravestones as props. I may have wondered about what was going on in other scenes, but here it was clear that zombies were coming to get us audience members. Then there was the last scene before intermission (“The Cattery”) that had all the performers acting as cats (and dressed with whiskers and tails). It was relief from the intimidation of the zombies, and especially funny when the Principal Character suddenly had the ever-present hat attached by a string to a 6-foot pole and waved it around to tease the cats. Then there was a return to the dark side at the beginning of the second act when performers entered from the aisles in dark costumes, each carrying a lantern. The subsequent scenes introduced The Gargoyles, outfitted with truly freaky costumes and masks that covered their entire head. Their break-dance routine was eerie and a bit intimidating. There were impressive acrobatic moves throughout this show, but none so impressive as the back flip off a bridge by the main gargoyle.

The Doorway was a fast-paced show. I tried to take notes about what I was seeing, but it was frustrating because I couldn’t begin to keep up: so much was going on. Complementing the dancing, there was a continuous array of dazzling and surreal costumes and props and what was, for me, completely unfamiliar electronic/punk/avant garde music. It was all simply mesmerizing.

I certainly haven’t studied dance, nor have I seen a great deal of it, but it seems to me that this was an exploration of the limits of dance. It’s like the universe: the better the telescope the farther you can see — there’s really no end, no boundary. And there seemed to be no boundaries for the choreography on display in The Doorway. Occasionally, I felt that what I was watching was more of a ritual than a choreographed dance. Or it seemed that what I was watching was a series of poses rather than a kinetic dance. Beyond that, it was all more acrobatic than I would expect from a dance show, and I bet that there were a lot of moves that wouldn’t be taught in any dance studio. For example, there was a lot going on with head movements — and with hands and fingers. In particular, there was one repeated gesture (among many that I may have missed seeing repeated) of curling the thumb and forefinger to make an imaginary monocle or pair of eyeglasses. Every movement sparked one’s imagination.

I was constantly impressed by the discipline and perfect timing of the dancers in their unison ensemble dancing. It was so precise that it seemed like each dancer was physically connected to the others, or maybe that their moves were triggered by commands from the same control panel. This was rendered all the more amazing by the frequent frenetic pace of their routines. But then in a subsequent scene, I would be struck by the grace, or at least artistry, of their movements. Everything was intentional and precise. It was clear that I was watching people who were thoroughly trained, experienced, and dedicated to their art.

At one point, I wrote in my notes, “I don’t have the words to describe all this.” Maybe that’s an important observation. You can’t “get” what was displayed on that stage through a written description. You have to experience it to appreciate it. And although I watched for more than two hours with little understanding, the experience was immensely satisfying, though sometimes akin to the satisfaction that you get looking through a kaleidoscope.

Here in the Sacramento area we sometimes are self-conscious that we’re not San Francisco or Los Angeles or New York, assuming the most professional entertainment has to come here from those distant places. But the show I saw would be top-quality entertainment on any stage in any city you can name. I missed the first 5 productions of The Doorway:  I don't want to miss any more.