How many moves can a dancer pack in one phrase? Then repeat, change, jostle, repeat? Flipper-y hand movements and shake-waddle-waddle? All set to live Schumann (Schumann! I adulate!) in silly costumes, followed by Vivaldi, with hula-girl waving thrown in? Warning: This is a rave. I've never seen the Mark Morris Dance Group before, then my wife scores great gala-night seats for the beginning of BAM's "Month of Mark" to celebrate the company's 25th anniversary. Excerpting an email to a friend just before I leave my apartment: "Putting the suit on for Mark Morris, hope it's good." And was it good--it was good, it was terrific, it was very completely moving and I was shaken. Measuring the speed of fandom, I've gone from zero to 60,000 in one evening. What other companies in the peerdom (besides the all-wonderful Ailey) showcase dancers so eclectic? One was the shape of a small bear. Another had pooch. But in grace and attention to the live music (live music! I'm ruined; thanks to Mark, jerk, contemporary dance to canned Nature Company CDs will never be the same) and for matching instinct to Morris's brainy patterns, the dancers were remarkable, unified, breathtaking--any word to convey the opposite of dry, stiff, pompous. (OK, one or two in the pack weren't enormously good, but how's that different from any other company?) So, a rave. See them. And then see about some free drinks; the nice thing about connections is you get to attend the after-party. I spotted Isaac Mizrahi, then I felt weird about recognizing him without knowing what he does exactly. Not a short man, Mizrahi, nor casual about his hair. And when Annie Leibowitz wants a drink, she doesn't screw around--the crowd around the bar was eight people deep, but Leibowitz charged in, shouldering them aside, never apologizing. That's the way to do it, though rumor has it she's bizonkers.