DANCE REVIEW : Teatro de Danza Espanola at Pasadena Civic

Flamenco is not synonymous with Spanish dance, but it is a key element. It has also successfully supported imaginative transformations to the dramatic stage almost since its beginning.

None of this was made very apparent Sunday afternoon at the Pasadena Civic Auditorium by the Teatro de Danza Espanola, a young-looking--and -dancing--troupe making its first U.S. tour. The company boasts a flamenco cadre that would do many a Seville or Madrid tablao proud, but it did not provide a basis for any coherent choreography or dramatic extension.

Company director Luisillo’s “La Trilla” provided a pseudo-folkloric pageant as a setting for big solo efforts from Juan Fernandez and Maria Vivo. Despite the scenery and profusion of agricultural props, this scene of workers in an Andalusian field--the women, of course, in heels and their best ruffled skirts--was hardly plausible as either a social or dramatic context.

The individual dancing, however, proved eminently credible. Fernandez, despite a superficial resemblance to John Travolta and despite his adoption of some disco poses, moved with supple authority and maintained a crisp, cool fury in his intricately patterned heel work.

Vivo emphasized exaggerated sensuality through sinuous, seemingly boneless arms and bump-and-grind torso work. Her solo developed increasingly abandoned variations, with the rhythm of her heel work buried by the accompanying hand-clapping.

Elaborate palmoteo, indeed, was the central element of the accompaniment, led by singers Toni Maya and Cancanilla de Marbella, who also contributed clowning dance parodies. This was raucous, spirited, punk flamenco nuevo, greeted with cheers from the audience and continued in the exuberant encores.

The first half of the program was devoted to Luisillo’s “Carmen,” set to the music of Bizet--taped, of course--as reordered and recomposed by Rodion Shchedrin for his wife, Maya Plisetskaya, in 1968. The poverty of imagination and lack of self-confidence and identity apparent in choosing a Soviet arrangement of a French operatic view of Spanish life was reflected in the cluttered choreography, which made no effort to establish character or motivation and covered important solo entrances and duets with chorus line kitsch.

Rocio Acosta brought a measure of paradoxically flamboyant dignity to the title role, dancing with technical assurance in the tawdry surroundings. Though billed as a principal ballet dancer, her part called more for modern dance movement and flamenco poses, plus a loud cry and gasps to initiate her extended death throes.

Her partner as Don Jose was not the similarly billed Miguel Valeran, but Florencio Campo. He provided little more than an heroically out-thrust chest for characterization. In a sad reflection on his ease in the role and the confused choreography, it was impossible to tell whether he was supposed to collapse under Carmen at the end, or simply overbalanced attempting to carry her away.

Vigorous dancing of varying skill in the supporting roles and ensembles did not redeem the effort.