AguaLuna Dancers Tap Into Joyous Folklorico Roots

There may be nothing worse in a dance program than excessive orating, as Gustavo Gonzalez, artistic director of AguaLuna Dance Company, proved Saturday at Downey Civic Theatre, when he rambled on about each number in his six-part program, “Cultura Viva.” Unless, that is, said program also features a repetitive and limited choreographic vocabulary attempting to fuse modern and ballet with traditional folklorico elements.

When Gonzalez sticks solely, however, to his folklorico roots, as he did in his premiere, “Aires Colimenses”--a joyous work for the full company depicting seduction between flower-festooned women in swirling skirts and boot-stomping men--a sparkling authenticity emerges.

So, too, was the case with “Ritmos de Costa” (Coastal Rhythms), another breezy, full-company number of shoulder-shimmying women in colorful frocks, vamping and hooting to a live, 12-piece mariachi band (including a feisty tuba player), the men kicking up their heels. Line formations, replete with solid footwork, provided a kaleidoscopic show of spirited soul.

Far less successful were the remaining works, all set to uncredited, generic-sounding taped music. The evening’s centerpiece, the premiere, “Mujeres Ilustres” (Illustrious Women), purported to tell the story of Mexico through four prominent women: Malintzin Malinche (Marissa Gaeta), whose union with the Spanish conqueror Cortes gained her the title of mother of the mestizo--part Indian, part Spanish--race; Sor Juana Ines de la Cruz (Patricia Martinez), the poet nun; independence freedom fighter Josefa Ortiz de Dominguez (Johanna Lozano); and painter Frida Kahlo (Jissel Luna).

Each brief segment contained the same few moves: arms outstretched while kneeling on the floor; tiny steps and angst-induced spins. The four-movement “Procesion del Silencio” (Silent Procession), depicted Holy Week as a self-flagellation ritual. Featuring exaggerated lunges and awkward lifts, there was much skittering on knees, as well as slapping the stage with hands and feet.

The duet “Nacimiento Mestizo” (Mestizo Birth) with Martinez and Alberto Mendoza, had the latter dragging his partner across the floor on a serape, while the premiere, “Luto en la Huasteca,” was a lamentation featuring yet more uninspired arm gesticulating, augmented by candle-bearing women.