Bleak yet gorgeous, mythological yet mundane, Michael Keegan-Dolan’s version of the balletic chestnut Swan Lake is fierce and unsparing, but also beautiful. Pointe shoes and tutus are absent. Instead, the convent girls—witnesses to abuse—wear frocks and frolic in a lake of black and transparent plastic. The prince is a depressed, shotgun-toting mama’s boy living in council housing. Yet there’s comedy amid the tragedy, and a movement vocabulary gleaned from classical and contemporary idioms. The score, by the Nordic/Celtic group Slow Moving Clouds, adds aural resonance to the visual feast.