A title is like a wager, or a gauntlet thrown down. When Houston Ballet announced a spring show called Raising the Barre, it promised wit, ambition, and virtuosity. Happily, opening night delivered.

“Raising the Barre” follows Houston Ballet’s habitual and at times hackneyed modern dance format, with three works by three choreographers: Jorma Elo, Christopher Bruce, and Christopher Wheeldon. The program features a world premiere by innovative Finnish choreographer Elo and works by the masterful Bruce, who serves as associate choreographer for Houston Ballet, and the celebrated Wheeldon, former resident choreographer of the New York City Ballet.

I shudder to utter something as cliché as “don’t miss this show,” but you really shouldn’t.

Elo makes you feel like you’re watching the future of dance. Yet at the opening of his devilish new dance, “ONE/end/ONE,” set to Mozart’s Violin Concerto No. 4 in D, I feared I was watching ballet’s distant past. I’ve seen a lot of Elo’s work, especially in Boston where he serves as choreographer in residence at Boston Ballet. Under his tutelage dancers seem to unleash parts of their bodies, like the hips and the spine, which often serve as the anchors of balletic poise. At first “One/end/One” seemed rigid and almost stuffy as the dancers emerged in tight black costumes with ornate filigree.

Admittedly, it was opening night but the dancers were also initially hesitant, even a touch wobbly. The men were not quite together and one dancer visibly adjusted after seeming to land a little too far from a cast mate. But everything clicked into place, and gradually it became clear that the punning title “One/end/One” was counting out, like a deranged clock, the decay of clockwork balletic precision into the sinuous virtuosity characteristic of Elo.

The hips did indeed begin to swivel, the spine to curve, and the arms to twist, releasing wildness from poise. One moment the dancers are meticulous like automata and the next they are creatures curious about the way limbs extend from the core of the self into a world rich and odd because full of people to sense. The future, it seems, is the body structured by sensation itself. Add to this the subtle lighting of Christina R. Giannelli and a rousing solo by violinist Denise Tarrant, and you have an instant triumph.

Watching Christopher Bruce makes you feel like you’re watching the primal past. The work is never dated though he often sets his pieces in particular moments, especially through the use of music. Take, for instance, his iconic “Rooster,” which unleashes the sexual anarchy of the iconic music of the Rolling Stones. Bruce sets “Grinning in Your Face” to the extraordinary sounds of Martin Simpson’s voice, banjo, and slide guitar. It treats the American Dust Bowl years of the 1930s, and Bruce evocatively and unsentimentally conveys a complex mix of experience: deprivation, desolation, humor, longing, playfulness, and even patriotism tinged with mourning.

At the opening of “Grinning in Your Face” the curtain opens on women lounging near crates suggestive of their locale. As a banjo echoes through the hall, the women begin Bruce’s emphatic and often percussive choreography. Hands clap, slap, and snap while feet stomp and slide. At moments elements of social dance seem to emerge—a hint of waltz or even a tango—but the movement is utterly Bruce, folksy at times yet as virtuosic as Elo. A series of courting rituals, daring games, compelling solos, and mourning rituals are acted out, and by the end it is as if history has swept through the building like a storm in the bodies of the dancers. As directed by the title, the dancers grin in your face, whether faced by joy or despair.

In spite of its vivacious title, Christopher Wheeldon’s meticulously crafted “Rush” felt the most dated or simply the least relevant. When I see Wheeldon's work, I’m always impressed by the deft hand behind them. Wheeldon wields skillful architecture and compositonal elegance like a scalpel, but to what end? There isn’t a hair out of place, but that may be the problem. I rarely remember the movement or sense any passion beneath even emphatically passionate gestures. The works feel pretty, accomplished, and at times pleasing but not particularly significant, especially next to Elo and Bruce.

The news of the night was not just Elo's world premiere but also that a series of stars have emerged to seize center stage. The entire company deserves kudos for sustaining excellent performances in three startlingly different works and styles with a relatively small core of performers. Never did exhaustion or confusion enter the hall. The company’s traditional favorites, especially Kelly Myernick and Ian Casady, continue to impress. Simon Ball, accomplished as always, was wasted in Wheeldon's fluffy "Rush." But it’s impossible not to notice that the night belonged to Joseph Walsh, Melissa Hough, and Karina González.

Walsh grows more elegant and accomplished each time I see him perform. Indeed, it was a great night for the men. James Gotesky was often a revelation in Elo’s premiere, capturing my attention when I least expected it. Rupert Edwards, in a difficult sequence in "Grinning in Your Face," excelled in an erotic entanglement swiftly followed by the covnulsion of violence and nightmare.

Happily Houston Ballet has added a stunning set of soloists in Hough and González. Hough, formerly of Boston Ballet, is an absolute chameleon: utterly Elo in “One/end/One,” emphatically Bruce in “Grinning in Your Face,” and elegantly Wheeldon in “Rush.” She was perfectly Balanchine earlier this season in “Jewels,” and I eagerly anticipate her next stunning transformation. González was herself utterly arresting in “One/end/One,” full of poise tempered by wit and an irrepressible vivacity.

This performance felt auspicious to me in what seem like dark times for the arts. The company’s gorgeous new headquarters is clearly a sign of the city’s support, so Houston Ballet is perfectly poised to continue to commission great new work, like Jorma Elo’s “One/end/One,” and to deepen longstanding connections, as in the case of Bruce’s “Grinning in Your Face.”

“Raising the Barre” really does raise the bar for dance in Houston. Let’s hope Houston Ballet keeps it up.