Richard Alston doesn’t do flashy. His London-based mod ern dance company, which opened at the Joyce on Tuesday, brought three pieces made with solid British craftsmanship — and just as typically British understatement.
The evening started with an American accent: “Shuffle It Right,” set to recordings of Hoagy Carmichael singing his own songs. The dancing is low-key: As five couples jump and jitterbug, it feels more like Saturday night at a dance hall than opening night on a concert stage.
Like Paul Taylor’s “Company B,” scored to the music of the Andrews Sisters, World War II isn’t on the stage in “Shuffle It Right” but it’s just around the corner. The men are in street clothes that recall uniforms — khakis and shirts with ties tucked into them. Carmichael sings one number as a G.I. telling his gal back home, “Don’t forget to say no.”
The way Alston holds back makes “Shuffle It Right” a little like that G.I.; you know you ought to stick with it, but you can’t help going to the dance hall looking for a little more excitement.
From World War II, we moved to the Ballets Russes. “Movements From Petrushka” had echoes of both the original Michel Fokine ballet and Vaslav Nijinsky, its spectacular and troubled star.
Here, Alston literally puts the music center stage — having the cast dance around pianist Jason Ridgway as he plays the Stravinsky score.
The dancing is as robust as the music, with echoes of Russian folk dance in both the movement and the belted white shirts the men wear. (Liz Reed’s striking drops of nighttime rooftops and monsters were inspired by Alexandre Benois’ original 1911 designs.)
Pierre Tappon gets a workout as the Nijinsky figure. He’s all in black — pitching and flailing apart from the joyful group. At the closing notes, the group rushes to him, but falls over as he remains standing.
Alston saved the best for last: “Blow Over.” Set to music by Philip Glass, with lyrics by David Byrne, Suzanne Vega and Paul Simon, the dancers, clad in silver and black, dance on a bare stage lit like a summer storm at twilight, with Glass’ repetitive music suggesting the infinite. Tappon is again a dynamo here, seemingly in perpetual motion.
Alston’s dances aren’t for those who want to be razzle-dazzled. You’ll like them best if you’d rather the dance speak for itself.