DANCE REVIEW : Ballet Folklorico Keeps Mood Festive at Shrine

Long before folkloric dance came to political prominence, Amalia Hernandez’s Ballet Folklorico de Mexico showcased the very mixed ethnic strains that make up her country’s population.

Thursday night, the 39-year-old company came blazing into Shrine Auditorium, opening a five-performance stand--the first event in a citywide celebration of Mexican arts and culture that features a landmark exhibition at the Los Angeles County Museum of Art.

Of course, there’s hardly a place, outside of Mexico itself, more sympathetic to Hispanic artifacts than Los Angeles. So the audience’s appreciation of what Hernandez presented--a panoply of numbers in full regalia--got quick, clear signals in the spontaneous clapping for recognized music and song.

Unfortunately, some of the musical performances were taped--with scratchy sound and at ear-splitting decibels. But whenever her spirited mariachis or conga drummers took the stage, the sense of road-show routine disappeared.

To one who admires Folklorico from afar, the aura that predominated was joyous. Beyond the dances that opened each program half--aboriginal men resplendent in huge plumed head pieces of brilliant colors, stomping through their majestic rituals--nearly everything was stepping, swirling allegro.

But with all sorts of variations on rhythm and meter and tone. The barefoot, beribboned girls of Michoacan seemed like coquettish young things of any 18th-Century European village; their solos--with extended, curving arms and stretched feet--could be traced to peasant divertissements in classical ballet.

From this same state were also jotas and sarabandes, with their Spanish accent--rat-a-tat heel work and rigid backs--reminding us that few peoples were ever free of invasion by outsiders or the cultural influences that make every country a melting pot.

And as far as that goes, Hernandez even capitalized on the era of Hapsburg Emperor Maximilian and also depicted the revolution as led by Francisco Villa, in a suite of dances from Zacatecas.

But all of it is bright-hued spectacle with no trace of tragedy. Except for the sullen sophistication of the bullet-laden revolutionaries, the dancers’ faces were constant smiles. The focus is entertainment and the entertainers persuade us they are a happy people no matter what.

The only moment of serious impact came in the ubiquitous Yacqui Deer Dance, performed here by Lucas Zarate. With his impersonation of an animal beset by hunters and raging against imminent death, there was no diluting of the awful reality. Zarate, kicking the back of his head with his foot and leaping in terror, gave a stunning performance.