Back in the 1980s, before she left for Europe and its arts subsidies, Karole Armitage was a gritty punk choreographer with Balanchine in her blood – in her words,a “go-go ballerina.”Two years ago, Ms. Armitage brought a piece (“Time is the Echo of an Axe Within a Wood”) to the Joyce that overjoyed New York critics. Now she has officially moved back to New York, where she is being spoken of as the potential savior of classicism and, loftier still, a successor to Balanchine.

With these heavy expectations in the air, Ms. Armitage’s company took the stage for the world premiere of her latest piece, “In This Dream That Dogs Me.” The Duke’s small, curtainless stage was bracketed by three walls, all draped in red-orange velvet by Ms. Armitage’s longtime set designer, David Salle. A wide, silver-foil tube snaked along the back wall; above it, one level up, the musicians sat on an exposed catwalk. Into this three-sided box came the dancers, in electric-blue bodysuits and leotards by Peter Speliopoulos.

The surreal colors – and the dance that followed – cried out to be presented at a theatrical distance under dreamlike lighting. Instead, the Duke’s shallow stage (and the frequently astringent lighting) brought everything into unfiltered closeup, right down to the beads of sweat on the dancers’ ripped abs.Yet even viewed under less than ideal conditions, “In This Dream That Dogs Me” is an intriguing, deeply original work.

For this storyless ballet of few traditional steps, Ms. Armitage drew inspiration from the curved brushstrokes and accents of calligraphy. Sinuous rhythms undulate through the limbs without any trace of ballet stiffness, punctuated by slaps and quick kicks. The eclectic movement responds to the shifting moods of Annie Gosfield’s score: languorous strings, bursts of chaotic notes, and jarring phrases played on detuned instruments.

The five main dancers in this interconnected chain of solos, duets, and ensemble sections are diverse both in body type and ethnicity: petite and tall; Filipino, Jamaican, Japanese, African-American, and Antiguan. The height and weight imbalances between the men and women play into Ms. Armitage’s fondness for unconventional partnering.

Couples perform splayed, low-to-theground lifts – or shove each other around. The statuesque, lean Theresa Ruth Howard’s long-legged high kicks are like jolts, while Leonides Arpon’s compact body makes stocky, puckish shapes. Quick-footed, rail-thin Megumi Eda drops to the floor with the lightest of thuds.

But after two sections of robust dancing, “In This Dream That Dogs Me” falters.The third and final section, intended as a kind of catharsis,makes the mistake of ushering five new dancers onstage, this time in shiny red leotards. The red team is clearly the B-team, and its presence (and the introduction of unison, mostly avoided until now) diminishes the overall effect.

Thankfully, Ms. Howard and Ms. Eda are left alone at the end. On a tranquil, moonlit stage, they lean in toward each other, each holding the other’s chin in her palm. But in this piece, intimacy can’t linger long, and they scatter. When they come together again, they are standing with their backs to the audience, a few feet apart.They take wobbly steps as if navigating a tightrope, then suddenly turn profile. Each raises an arm and sweeps her hand across the nape of her neck.

Such moments of beauty, fashioned from new vocabulary but savoring of classicism, augur well for Karole Armitage’s next New York era.

Until December 18 (229 W. 42nd Street, 212-239-6200).