As if calling in the spirits, the Pualani Hawaiian dancers seemed to bless the 13th annual Nations of San Diego International Dance Festival. A call-and-response chant between Pualani director "Auntie" Barbara Finneran and the youngest girls in her troupe linked generations and transformed the festival's fine new home, the Birch North Park Theatre, into sacred ground. If only Pualani had asked for blessings to avoid the logistical glitches on Thursday, the festival's opening night. But any problems quickly faded, as the nearly 150 dancers and musicians created the highest-octane Nations festival I think I've seen.

Two groups making Nations debuts, Michelle Malone Irish Dance Academy and Planet Brazil, delivered some of the most exciting dance. Malone's young (many just teenagers) and exquisitely disciplined dancers did a mix of spring-loaded soft shoe reels and jigs in which feet pummeled the floor like a furious but sharply controlled hailstorm. A perfectly timed duet by the youngest performers—Colleen Innis (age 8) and Johanna Alpert (9), who danced with the concentration of pros—brought cheers. Joan Acocella, the New Yorker dance critic, writes about the biochemical thrill we get from seeing, for instance, one line of dancers swiftly bisect another, and Malone—as well as her co-choreographers, Liam Harney and Kevin Patterson—knows how to produce that thrill. (Malone recently took over Harney's company and school.) Feet flashing as if they'd implanted dynamos, Malone's eager dancers still managed to look fresh and sparkling. When they finished, there was a sigh as if the theater itself had held its breath.

With fast, wheeling kicks that barely miss a partner's head, Capoeira, the Brazilian martial arts-dance form, never fails to stir the blood. Planet Brazil's powerful, agile dancers showed off one-armed handstands and those fabulous, risky kicks, turbocharged by the group's drummers and singers. And that was just in one section of their program. They also did a lively folkloric dance, a maculele in which dancers mock combat with sticks, and two carnival numbers with women joyously shaking their tushes and swinging their hair. Respecting the 15-minute limit that Nations puts on each act, the company made some of these numbers so brief that if you blinked, you'd miss them. Advice for next time: Do fewer numbers, so each can develop. Or, after 13 years, is it time for the San Diego Dance Alliance to consider some different Nations format?

Longtime Nations favorites also offered plenty of excitement... and surprises. For instance, I thought I knew what to expect from PASACAT Asian Performing Arts Company, and yes, they did the Tinikling in which people whack bamboo poles together at ankle-level, and the dancers jig in and out between whacks. Just as vibrant was a Bangko—a man held a woman's hands atop a pyramid of benches, and hopped her around to lower levels of the pyramid. Sometimes she landed a foot lower than the top, sometimes two feet, and would she figure it out and adjust her body in time? In a subtle but deliciously tense dance, Subli-an, eight women did small, tight walking steps to create formations—circles and vertical and horizontal lines. This dance is supposed to express reverence for Catholicism, and the women knelt at the end, but all that held-in movement made me think about repression and simmering female power. Which is, no doubt, just my ethnocentric (if not entirely personal) projection. Nevertheless, it's interesting to think of that as a subtext to this dance.

Bharata Natyam is a superbly refined Indian classical form, featuring strong footwork and gestures of extraordinary delicacy and precision, and Angahara Ensemble performs it with utter mastery. The troupe's artistic director, Ramaa Bharadvaj, is known for her skill at reflecting both Indian tradition and her life as a 21st century American. "Animation" combined Bharata Natyam-style dance and what felt like modern-dance composition. Swetha Bharadvaj (Ramaa's daughter) knelt and clapped her hands, as four women, standing in a circle around her, responded rhythmically with their feet. Chinmayi Bhavanishankar entered, and she and Swetha played off one another, the other dancers forming a chorus. In unison sections, the six dancers held their bodies at precisely the same angle—elbows, heads, and even eyes cocked just so. Swetha held her hands, crossed at the wrists, above her head, and you could see miles of air between each finger, the gesture was so finely articulated. The one negative was that, although Angahara was allotted 15 minutes, they performed for only six.

As with Angahara, artistic director Amy Deng tried bringing modern elements to the Moon Light Chinese Dance Company. "Dance of Kangdin" had the three men and ten women strutting in cowboys boots and hats, and used contemporary Chinese rock music for most of its score. Apparently, Deng saw this dance performed by a group in China, and maybe they were more skilled at the western theatrical dance moves (even including balletic partnering). Sadly, Moon Light's dancers lacked the requisite training, and this was one experiment with modernity that fell flat.

Feet stomped. Skirts swished. Hats were waved. Happy trills and yips burst from the dancers' mouths. The high spirits were infectious in the dances by Ballet Folkloric Fiesta de Colores. The highlight was a dance to "La Bamba" (not the Richie Valens version, but one that sounded more authentic) done by three couples. The women unwound a long red sash from the men's waists. Then each couple used their feet to tie the sash into a bow.

The eighth group on the program, Francis Awe and the Nigerian Talking Drum Ensemble, was a no-show. Turns out they'll be here only Saturday night and Sunday afternoon. A particular disappointment, since Awe had promised his drums would heal all who heard them; I'd had a migraine all day, and I really wanted to be healed. It was also one of the show's glitches, since why didn't someone just announce that the group wasn't here? Instead, everyone sat for a while with the house lights up and finally figured out it was intermission.

Speaking of intermission, it's a terrific opportunity to view the gorgeous photographs of local (and some visiting) dancers by Elazar Harel, hanging in the lobby. Harel took up dance photography as a hobby, and his work gives every amateur artist—doing it for love—a very good name.

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