The curtain rose on two unlikely looking martyrs to love, dressed alike in black cut-off trousers, boots, jackets and vests, with starchy white collars and bright-patterned ties. With her cap of carrot-colored hair and deadpan expression, the woman (Adriana Castaños) looked a great deal more like a dominatrix than the expected lovelorn lass. And the man (David Barrón) was clearly the less adventurous of the two.

Created by Ms. Castaños, a founder with Mr. Barrón of the seven-year-old La Lágrima company, which is based in Hermosillo, Mexico, "Canciónes" has the look of a duet put together by two people who know each other well. Some of it was drawn from improvisation, though the witty pacing suggested that nothing had been left to chance on the stage. And there was a Brechtian incisiveness to the strong dramatic staging, enhanced by a deft score by Ramón Astraín that built to "Koyaanisqatsi"-worthy thunder.

Best of all in this tightly knit piece was the sight of Mr. Barrón's hitherto convincingly macho male — circling, approaching and withdrawing, scuffing the ground nervously and occasionally baying and whimpering — as Ms. Castaños coolly shed her vest and shirt. The only mystery was how such choreography and performing could have derived from the creators of the two dances that came before.

"Frágil Paraíso," choreographed by Mr. Barrón to music by Mr. Astraín, seemed to be a trio (Manuel Ballesteros, Claudia Carrillo and María Luisa Solares) for three wandering animals. The slightly more cohesive "Azul Cobalto," created by Mr. Barrón, Ms. Castaños and Claudia Desimone to music by Thomas Thallis, was a ritual for two fish/women (Ms. Carrillo and Ms. Solares). Both were textbook examples of the dreary (and surprisingly long-lived) aimless-disengagement school of modern-dance choreography.