Grace Ellen Barkey's version of "Turandot" is called "(And)," and it is the latest of the cheerfully anarchic productions associated with Needcompany, the experimental Belgian theater and dance company, to be seen in New York. The troupe, based in Brussels and founded by Jan Lauwers, made a striking impression in 1999 with Mr. Lauwers's "Morning Song" at the Brooklyn Academy of Music, where it also appeared last year in Mr. Lauwers's adaptation of "King Lear". It has been convenient to class these productions as performance art with a highly choreographed movement component. "(And)" is more clearly a dance spectacle with text (spoken and sung) and music (live and taped), and it has some remarkable dancers (notably Julien Faure) who throw themselves fearlessly into the physical extremes and fluid knots of Ms. Barkey's choreography. "(And)," which will be repeated tonight at the Kitchen (512 West 19th Street, Chelsea), is nonetheless an episodic and stylized retelling of the fable used in Puccini's "Turandot." A picture frame in front of a platform creates a miniature theater that reveals only parts of a dancer's body (often no head) and allows props depicting fish to resemble puppets engaged with live performers. Most of the action in the piece, which had its New York premiere on Wednesday night, is below, on the floor. The work's occasional rock-'n'-roll style is introduced by Angelique Willkie as a sultry pop singer-narrator who doubles as the slave, known as Liu in the opera. The hero is a modern-day Orpheus who lies upside down as he plays his electric guitar: Maarten Seghers composed his own music. Ms. Willkie and Rombout Willems contributed to the other parts of the score, which includes collage elements like James Brown singing "Sex Machine." The counterparts of the opera's Chinese ministers, Ping, Pang and Pong, are Mr. Faure, Benoit Gob and Kosi Hidama, who perform an extraordinary trio that suggests the movement equivalent of rap music. Mr. Faure, who likes to lick the floor, has a knack for throwing himself into a horizontal twist in the air, usually into Mr. Gob's arms. One can barely notice that Mr. Gob, who plays the hero's father and also Turandot's father, is more actor than dancer. Such boundaries are effectively blurred. Princess T., as she is called, is a slithery virtuosic dancer named Tijen Lawton, whose fluid roiling on the floor is related to the narrator's epilogue: after the princess beheads men who cannot answer three riddles but falls in love with the hero, who has the answers, she turns speechless "like a fish." The heart of the piece is the central love duet, an original variation on the technique known as contact improvisation. Ms. Lawton, short and slight, and Mr. Seghers, slim and lanky, take turns hooking a hand aroun each other's neck and cheek, then turn away. A partnering device becomes one long repeated caress. The princess who disdains love also desires it.