Ballet Past And Present, At New York City Ballet

The Cuban contemporary-dance troupe Malpaso Dance Company—skilled, sympathetic, but still searching for a strong identity—returns to its home away from home, the Joyce, for the tenth time. The most notable feature of the program might be the musical guests: the López-Gavilán brothers, a pianist and a violinist who rarely get to play together, since one lives in New York and the other in Cuba. The company’s artistic director, Osnel Delgado, débuts a duet for himself and Grettel Morejón, of the Cuban National Ballet, alongside New York premières by the company member Esteban Aguilar and the Havana-based Spanish choreographer Susana Pous.—Brian Seibert (Joyce Theatre; Jan. 21-26.)

Gospel

Photograph by Dervon Dixon

Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., once professed that music is “a mistress of order and good manners [who] makes the people milder and gentler, more moral and more reasonable.” In this coming era—during which fear, corruption, and avarice will stand in prominence—gentleness, morality, and reason must be cherished in whatever form they can be found. On Jan. 20, Martin Luther King, Jr., Day, the Harlem Gospel Choir performs a selection of soul-, jazz-, and blues-inflected gospel songs at Sony Hall, commemorating the man who, adding another entry to his list of impacts, was a key inspiration behind the ensemble’s founding. The choir also performs a brunch show at the Blue Note on Jan. 26.—J.B.

Movies

Michael Roemer, who directed the classic independent dramas “Nothing But a Man” and “The Plot Against Harry,” followed them with the similarly original documentary “Dying,” from 1976. It’s centered on three terminally ill patients whom he filmed, with bracing intimacy, in their final decline. Sally, who’s in her forties, is cared for by her mother and seemingly slips away with an eerie placidity. A young couple, Harriet and Bill, provide real-life melodrama: Harriet, terrified of raising their sons alone, wishes the ailing Bill a hasty demise so that she can remarry quickly. Reverend Bryant, the minister of a predominantly Black congregation, mellow in private but fiery in the pulpit, unites a community in death as in life. Roemer’s insistent observational method eschews analytical distance in favor of raw and ferocious emotion.—Richard Brody (Film Forum; Jan. 24-30.)

Bar Tab

Taran Dugal pairs natural wine with Vietnamese-inspired ice creams.

Illustration by Josh Cochran

Like so many of New York’s timeworn thoroughfares, Forsyth Street boasts a complicated history. What is now a string of trendy boutiques and eateries straddling Chinatown and the Lower East Side was home, in the early aughts, to a vicious gang that once beat an informant with pipes “until his bones snapped,” according to one U.S. Attorney. Well, out with the racketeering and in with the ice cream. Lai Rai, a sleek new bar on Forsyth, is an ode to two of life’s greatest pleasures—natural wine and frozen confections. It was designed as an oasis of sorts: a laid-back, Vietnamese-inspired alternative to the stuffy wine bars dotting downtown Manhattan. “Most of the wine world is so white and male-dominated,” a bartender said to two recent patrons. “We’re anything but that.” Lai Rai’s twin specialties leave little to be desired. For a rich, fruity kick, pair the Nespola (a vibrant French orange wine) with their refreshing avocado ice cream. Or, for a lighter touch, chase a couple of nutty, banana-leaf scoops with Khá, a tart and slightly nutty Hanoian rice wine. To those pitiable souls lacking a sweet tooth, fret not: a surf clam with coconut milk and the mouthwatering, Indochinese-influenced chicharrones (topped with salt and home-grown pepper from southern Vietnam) should suffice. Beware, however, of the minor disadvantages that accompany such delights. Guests who sit at the marble bar long enough may become unwitting participants in the mise-en-scène of a downtown socialite’s latest selfie, as the two patrons discovered. “I love the vibe here,” a scenester seated beside them squealed, all tooth-bleached elation, as she captured them in a photo. “It’s so European!” It was not, as a matter of fact, but ignorance is bliss, and ice cream certainly helps.

On and Off the Avenue

Rachel Syme on mind-expanding classes around town.

Whenever I consider “taking a class,” as a grown woman living in New York City, my mind immediately turns to “The Ladies Who Lunch,” the show-stopping number from Stephen Sondheim’s 1970 musical, “Company.” In that song, Joanne, a surly, vodka-pickled woman (originated on Broadway by the late, great Elaine Stritch) delivers a scathing indictment of the Manhattan leisure set, mockingly raising her Martini glass to the “girls who stay smart” by spending their days “rushing to their classes in optical art.” Joanne’s implication—that classes are merely time-wasters for unserious dilettantes—put me off drop-in courses for years, before I realized that it is unwise to heed the life advice of a bitter lush. Non-compulsory education, as it turns out, is one of adult life’s great pleasures. The most stylish people I know are perpetual students who pursue their interests with vigor. There is something very powerful about débuting a fresh skill—artful onion chopping, swooshy penmanship, speaking French—and being able to say, “Oh, this? It’s from a class I’m taking.” I never hear this and think that someone is wasting time—if anything, I think they have realized that time is too precious not to spend it learning something new.

Illustration by Clara San Millan

Once you start poking around, you’ll find that New York City is humming with classes. Here are a few intriguing offerings, but there are hundreds more. You can take a two-hour ikebana class with the master floral arranger Paula Tam ($80) on the Upper East Side or in Flushing, Queens. The Center for Fiction, in Brooklyn, has a wonderful collection of reading groups both in person and online, including one devoted to discussing “Jane Eyre” ($188 for four sessions) and another to reading “1984” in 2025 ($150 for three sessions). At 92NY—which offers a full cornucopia of classes—Elizabeth White-Pultz teaches multi-week beginner calligraphy courses (starting at $260); or there’s a one-day modern calligraphy workshop at the Brooklyn Craft Company ($75). The Art Studio NY offers “Oil Painting for Total Beginners” ($449), whereas the Long Island City nonprofit Biotech Without Borders offers a two-day course in how to grow gourmet mushrooms at home ($108.55). In Little Italy, the Miette Culinary Studio’s bevy of seasonal cooking classes includes one on how to make coq au vin ($135) and another on vegan Italian classics ($135). At the Brooklyn Institute for Social Research, you can take “Bebop and Black Modernism: An Introduction to Modern Jazz” ($335 for four sessions), and the buzzy Clinton Hill restaurant Place des Fêtes is offering a class on wine of the Castile and León regions ($125). You can learn to throw a pot at ArtShack in Bed-Stuy ($80 for an introductory wheel class), or on the Upper East Side, at the Crafty Lounge, you can make a chunky velvet tote bag ($150). Here’s to the girls who stay smart—aren’t they a gas?