DANCE REVIEW : Aterballetto Begins Tour in San Diego

They’re young and passionate and appealingly anarchic. They’re good at the big, hot stuff and impatient with cool, small detail. They’re Aterballetto, Italy’s 10-year-old national ballet company, which began a U.S. tour Tuesday night in San Diego’s Spreckels Theater.

The program offered a sampler of Bournonville style, which most of the company is still getting the hang of--despite sprightly footwork and lots of energy--and two would-be steamy works by artistic director Amedeo Amodio.

His version of “Prelude a l’apres-midi d’un faun,” to the Debussy score, wasted the crackling partnership of guest artist Elisabetta Terabust and Alessandro Molin. Terabust, now in her early 40s--a decade younger than Carla Fracci--is the international Italian dancer of her era. Her subtly inflected, slightly weighted manner is a fine foil for Molin’s lightness, ease and precision.

But Amodio turned the charged encounter of a shy nymph and an aroused faun that Vaslav Nijinsky immortalized in his 1912 ballet into the awkward coupling of two free spirits who want to try out all the positions. The nymph is not part of a sisterhood in this version. She’s a sleek and solitary Diana-the-huntress figure, ready for action.

The faun retains a hint of Nijinsky’s mitten-like hand gestures and the bolt upright seated posture that signifies sensory awareness. But when he rubs his cheek on the light-dappled ground, it looks like a silly thing for such a normal guy to do. He has no need to make love to a scarf, as in the once-scandalous original. Everything is so easy that there’s no sexual tension and mystery left.

The pas de deux from “Infiorata a Genzano”--from Peter Schaufuss’ “Bournonville,” a series of excerpts from the 19th-Century Danish choreographer’s works--was a much better vehicle for Terabust and Molin. She crafted the precise, speedy footwork, the abrupt shifts of the upper body, the low, curving arms and the coquettish, darting glances into a fine filigree. Molin offered clean beats, soft landings, attentive partnering and an aura of sunny, buoyant ease.

Everyone launched with swashbuckling vigor into the “Tarantella” from “Napoli.” But in “Ballabile” the men’s hands looked like flippers and arms stiffened when legs were busy.

In general, the Bournonville pieces had an unruly look. Grand gestures were seized upon with swaggering elan, while the small refinements and shy humor of this style languished. One dancer who seemed particularly at home in Bournonville, however, was fluent, fleet Cristiana Sciabordi, blessed with a large-featured, luminous face.

Amodio’s other offering was “Coccodrilli in Abito da Sera” (Crocodiles in Evening Wear), a piece indebted to Twyla Tharp and William Forsythe. Live recordings of music by Chick Corea, Al DiMeola and Paco De Lucia accompany the loose-bodied movements of five couples in evening dress.

Sometimes the men partner each other in a no-nonsense way--in the manner of gymnasts spotting each other. These activities--and the pervasive air of idleness and random activity--might have made an interesting piece. But Amodio didn’t seem to know what to do with the women, who mostly slouch around in a bored, sultry way and whirl themselves into armless extensions.