The dance portrays the antics of a single woman and two couples, with the men fighting over yards of swapping wives.

"We think of ourselves as being monogamous, but there's a lot more partner-switching that you realize," said Amy Smith, a director of the company. "The concept of the home is also important. Birds will fly 2,000 miles to South America for the winter, then come back and nest in the very same tree they were in the year before."

Headlong is clearly not your typical dance company. Directed by David Brick, Andrew Simonet and Ms. Smith, all Wesleyan graduates, the troupe performs from April 4 through April 7 as part of the Dance Theater Workshop's Around Town spring season at the Duke on 42nd Street. The three works of the program and quite different, but all are in keeping with the troupe's motto that intelligent experimentation can be compelling and, in some cases, hilarious.

For such a dance, "St*r W*rs," an enchanting homage to the George Lucas film the company won a 1999 New York Dance and Performance Award, or Bessie.

When Headlong creates a dance, one of the directors oversees it but all three are deeply involved in the creative process. In "Subirdia," the most lighthearted work on the program, the job fell to Ms. Smith, 30, whose father, Macklin Smith, is a nationally known birdwatcher.

With the help of 50's and 60's cocktail music by Martin Denny - bird calls and all - Ms. Smith brings a swinging lawn party to life. The piece is more than simply funny: all of the characters in it seek escape, notably Heather Murphy, who as the single woman is an outcast envied by the wives and lusted over by the husbands. She finds solace after she is visited by a mysterious astronaut, with whom she performs an ethereal pas de deux right out of "Swan Lake."

"I basically stole the choreography and altered it," Ms. Smith said. "In the ballet, the man and woman rarely face each other even though it's romantic. That was one of the things I liked about it. When the spaceman actually appears, they share a magical floating moment. It's enchanting."

The two remaining dances on the program represent the past and future of the company. One, "Impossible Dance," a trio, features improvisation while the dancers talk to each other. The second, "Gracelessness," a quintet set to music by Rick Henderson, depicts desolation and loss. But as the directors delve into more serious material, it is apparent that their intrinsic theatricality will render their work just as entertaining.

"Gracelessness" has none of the frivolity of "Subirdia," but is just as smart. Directed by Mr. Brick (Mr. Simonet, 32, is in it), the haunting work began as a formal exploration of contact improvisation.

"There are some pretty weird images," Mr.Brick said. "People end oup in odd body positions with their heads in each other's crotches."

Mr. Brick, 34, uses that awkwardness as a point of departure. He was also inspired by Pieter Bruegel's drawings, particularly the grotesque "Big Fist Eat Little Fish," in which a giant fish is split open to reveal dozens more. Dancers disappear only to reemerge among a tangle of body parts; eventually, Mr. Simonet and Nichole Canuso separate from the group.

And, as a further test of where contact improvisation can go, Mr. Simonet becomes blind in the last third of the work - by shutting his eyes. In keeping with Headlong's talking tradition, Mr. Simonet is guided by Ms. Canuso's voice.

"It feels like a wild roller coaster ride," Mr. Simonet said. "I physicalize the experience of trust. This work is more vulnerable. It's easy for us to get by on cleverness, but this feels risky."

Headlong may be moving toward more rigorously experimental territory, but it is doubtful that the company's basic mission will change. "I do think, 'Is this going to be just like of of those bad, arty experiences that alienates the audience?'" Mr. Brick asked in mock horror. "But are we so self-serious? I feel we've developed so many skills as collaborators, and real ideas about what dance means. Ane we really do care about if the audience gets it."

"May I end with a short phrase of regret?" In permit, Brick did it eloquently with his body. I'll have to settle for type, but here goes: "I'm really sorry if you missed this show."