The closing number of Flamenco Sin Fronteras is as joyful an exchange of cultures as its title promises, a larky fiesta that sees Paco Peña's Spanish troupe partying with six Venezuelan dancers and musicians. The two groups volley catcalls at each other, exchange percussive riffs and steps; their lead singers compete in a mocking duet, while the flamenco dancers flutter their hips and waggle their fingers as flirtily as the Latin Americans.
Peña's thesis is that Spanish dance and music had a significant impact on South America at the turn of the 20th century and that the two cultures still share fascinating links of style and expression. Yet, in a show that sets out to compare and contrast, the argument doesn't always make for natural theatre.
During much of the evening, the flamenco material can't help but dominate. With its deep, earthy rhythms and ululating vocals, it has a far more riveting charge than the Venezuelan dance and music, and too often the latter feels like interruptions to the main drama. The experimental numbers, in which Spanish dancers perform to Latin music, are also disappointing. The lazy swing and light-fingered percussion of Latin music seems to inhibit the Spanish dancers: the result is flamenco-lite.
This is not the fault of the performers. The Venezuelan drummers are virtuosic, and it is hard to believe that there are just three dancers in Peña's troupe. The taut, rigorous patterning of Ramón Martinéz and the flamboyance of Angel Muñoz cover the gamut of male flamenco, while Charo Espino can distil a whole dance tradition through the eloquence of her hands. As for Peña, there is surely no other guitarist with his range – a master of limpid classical lyricism who can also open up raw wounds of emotion.
