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How Long Is Savion Glover Stepz

The show was one night only, the house was packed, the ovation was standing. In his Harris Theater debut Friday night, former wunderkind Savion Glover proved he’s all grown up, in a good way. It wasn’t that he’d lost his sense of fun — he’d found it.

In “STePz” Glover not only exhibits his mastery of different styles of music and tap, he also reveals his wit and his joy in performing. That wasn’t necessarily true 20 years ago, when this consummately musical tapper regularly turned his back on the audience, hovered in the wings, and hit so hard you wondered what his demons were.

But in this excellently devised two-hour show, which goes by in a flash, Glover in fact plays exceedingly well with others. The 12 sections knit together solos, duets and group dances for as many as five, some bits clearly choreographed, others improvised. Only one, “Melody’sizn,” is performed without a score; the rest are done to recorded music ranging from pop to classic jazz to classical.

Humor abounds. In the group dance “When the Lights Go Down,” Glover as choreographer revels in the cool of the Prince song-and pokes fun at it. He and Marshall Davis, Jr. approach each other, backward, in sly, gliding ballroom-dance moves. Dramatic looks, strutting and tongue-in-cheek diva poses punctuate the ultra-smooth tapping. Here and throughout “STePz,” Sarah Savelli proved herself the mistress of swagger, while tiny, precise Ayodele Casel was more reserved. Serious Robyn Watson provided some swingin’ beats in her “Melody’sizn” solo.

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“Shasta,” a group piece set to a Shostakovich string quartet, is another homage/parody. Here, given the music’s highly varied moods and tempi, Glover revels in the opportunities to shade the dynamics of the tapping. He also slides in some ballet and, more affectionately, flamenco-palmas (clapping, often in counterpoint), entwined embraces.

Those allusions lead into a solo performed to Miles Davis’s “Flamenco Sketches.” As the other dancers fade into the background, Glover is revealed to be the source of a trembling sound suggesting the soft, held note of a trumpet. He lets Miles’ long lines dominate, then breaks into what looks like impassioned argument, and finally recapitulates the loving lullaby drop-and-catch of the music.

No one does the difficult jazz greats like Glover, yet he was just as moving to an arguably schmaltzy pop tune: Sammy Davis Jr.’s rendition of “Mr. Bojangles.” Turning himself at times into the old man of the song, Glover was slow (for him), respectful, alternately easy and awkward. I heard the song anew.

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