It seems like the most endearing gift, a true gesture of love. On Friday night Alvin Ailey American Dance Theater chose Paul Taylor’s classic Arden Court to open a three-performance run at Jones Hall, presented by Society For The Performing Arts. And there is something of a gift legacy in the stunning dance anyway. When it premiered in 1981, the choreographer hoped his mother would recognize the large rose that graces the backdrop as especially for her.

There was a second reason for that looming rose, however, and it speaks to Taylor’s aesthetic concerns and intentions. He liked the way it made the dancers seem like insects on the stage. And when the gods and goddesses of Ailey’s company perform, they rarely come off as insects.

While I’ve contemplated Taylor’s obsession with nature (in particular, with insects) over the years, I’ll admit that I never perceived Arden Court within this context. It was only when I read an interview with both Taylor and Robert Battle, AAADT’s current artistic director, that I learned this important information.

And while I agree the piece seems an odd fit for those bright Ailey stars, at the same time I’m not too bothered. We saw a distinctly new version of the classic, but the best sign of the longevity of a dance is that new generations of artists want to try it on for size. Inevitably, it’s going to change.

Having seen Arden Court the year it premiered and many times since, always by Taylor’s company, it struck me as a piece about playful mortals, especially men. Women are exalted in this piece. We know this from the first sequence, where six men in some sort of friendly competition quickly huddle, only to slowly raise a single woman from their midst. It is a stunning, almost shocking event. The Taylor dancers always sort of flew into the stage, not above it, and the necessary virtuosity seemed secondary, even when one duet for two men repeats at twice the tempo.

The Ailey dancers tend to float in their interpretation of Taylor, and I couldn’t help but notice when one man raised his extended leg far, far higher than the others. At AAADT, Arden Court becomes more of an agon, a competition like the ancient Olympic games. Nonetheless, it’s still fascinating and unmistakably joyous, and evidence of Battle’s adventurous spirit.

Few would argue that there is a more prestigious and prominent American contemporary dance company than AAADT. They pack the house, and it’s always been fascinating that an enthusiastic audience shows up, one that seems to be otherwise absent the remainder of the year. Why is this? I think a key is in the programming. AAADT usually presents a modern classic or contemporary “accessible” dance, then some evidently “difficult” work, and then a masterpiece by Alvin Ailey, usually hisRevelations.

The difficult work came in three dances by Battle, each quite distinct from the other two, and all demonstrating nothing short of a great choreographic mind. Alicia Graf Mack offered Battle’s Takademe, a short dense solo set to a complex vocal score by Sheila Chandra.

Mack looked stunning in a bright red two-piece costume by Missoni, and it seemed as if her entire body was some sort of monstrous tongue. The whole body speaks in this dance, but what is it saying? Something quite different to everyone who observes it.

Battle’s The Hunt looked more speculative when I saw it years ago on his own smaller company. Now with the power of the Ailey men behind it, the dance is nearly overwhelming. Six men in Mia McSwain’s black and red long skirts engage in what might be called a secular ritual, all of it unfolding to crashing rhythmic episodes from Les Tambours du Bronx. I didn’t remember it being so well-organized in tight circles or such exacting diagonals, but I never forgot some of its more intense primal moments, particularly a sequence where three men drag the three others as if they were fallen prey.

One would imagine a solo set to Nina Simone’s "Wild is the Wind" would be somewhat poignant, maybe even languorous. Not so in Battle’s interpretation, a devastating solo titledIn/Side and given an amazingly engaged realization by Samuel Lee Roberts. The opening phrases show him upstage, turned from the audience, bent in half and grabbing his calves with his hands. For a while he moves as more of an organic sculpture than a human being.

The solo is also evidence of Battle’s strange pre-occupation with falling, which elicited shouts of concern from the audience. Roberts grumbles, sobs and even shrieks a bit. The dance strikes me as so forward-looking that audiences are perhaps not quite prepared for such extreme emotion on the stage. It is a work of audacity, thrilling if you can bear it.

Alvin Ailey’s sublime Revelations served as finale, and dance-wise the piece couldn’t look better. If there is any place where neglect is evident, it is with the music. Now routinely set to a very tired recording, this great masterpiece seems to be losing steam without the presence of real voices and musicians.

In almost every American city where the company tours, there are singers and musicians capable of realizing a live score, who have the necessary understanding of its legacy. It struck me last night that it would be unthinkable for musicians to tour with a film of the dancers. Why do we tolerate the reverse?

Alvin Ailey American Dance Theater performs at Jones Hall Saturday at 8 p.m. and Sunday at 2 p.m. For tickets, click here.