BEIT MERY: A lively dialogue stomped back and forth across the boards of the Emile Bustani Auditorium Tuesday evening. The opening night of the 19th edition of Festival Al-Bustan wasn’t preoccupied with the sort of Occident-Orient discussions that are often staged in the eastern Mediterranean, but with a more far-flung conversation between Spain and the Americas.

The Paco Pena Dance Company has returned to Lebanon with a two-night-long run of their show “Flamenco Without Borders,” which places Pena’s flamenco ensemble alongside (and effectively absorbs) another group from Venezuela.

As the lights rise on the concert, Pena and his black-clad Spaniards – three guitars, two voices, and a cajon (literally “box”) augmented by a trio of perambulating flamenco dancers – sat up-stage right. Up-stage left, a quartet of Venezuelan musicians dressed in off-white moved back and forth from stringed instruments to percussion as needed and, between costume changes, were joined by a fourth dancer.

The object of this show, Pena is quoted as saying, is to explore the commonalities that exist between Spanish and Latin American music. Yet the forms of Spain and Venezuela are colorful in quite distinctive ways, which makes for an evening that is as rich in spectacle as it is flamboyant in sound.

After a choral rendition of the first two verses of the Lebanese national anthem, the stage is plunged into darkness, accentuated by the sound of the 10 players theatrically chatting amongst themselves as they find their seats. A lone spotlight finds Pena and his guitar, and the pair commence the proceedings with a solo.

Following Pena’s work cajon-player Diego “El Negro” Alvarez (one of the evening’s standout performers) pulls a reedy solo out of his box. This is the cue for cantor José Angel Carmona to take his place behind the two musicians, and for dancer Ramon Martinez to make his entrance.

As Martinez stomps and strides, gestures and poses his way about center stage, the lights come up somewhat on the still-dim stage. Martinez follows his opening solo with a second, more intense work, this one accompanied by hand-clapping alone.

Two tunes into the show, Alvarez abandons his cajon and crosses the stage as the Venezuelans spring into action with an upbeat percussion- driven – drums and maracas – piece. This is the cue for Venezuelan dancer Daniela Tugues to take to the stage, barefoot, for a smiling performance that is as loose-limbed and exuberant as the previous flamenco number had been rigidly disciplined.

Another American tune follows, one that sees the Venezuelans pick up their stringed instruments – Jose Vicente Munoz on bass, Aquiles Baez on cuatro (a ukulele-sized guitar) and Ricardo Sandoval on bandolas (which looks not unlike a mandolin) – accompanied by Alvarez’s cajon and vocalist Carlos Talez on maracas.

This to-ing and fro-ing between the Europeans and the Americans provides the basic structure for the show. When the musical pendulum swings stage right, Carmona and Inmaculada Rivero share the vocal work for the Spaniards. When it swings stage left, the charismatic Talez takes over.

Two more flamenco dancers – husband and wife team Angel Munoz and Charo Espino – take the floor for solos (accompanied and otherwise) and ensemble performances with Martinez and Tugues (who proves to be as adept at flamenco-style forms as she is the more-earthy American repertoire). In addition to dancing up a storm on stage, these four preoccupy themselves with a flurry of backstage costume-changes.

After the interval, the two teams mingle a little more. Pena and Sandoval take seats on the opposite sides of the stage and Pena accompanies the Americans in a few tunes. Between costume changes, some of the Spaniards even turn up on stage wearing an article or two of white clothing.

Inevitably, perhaps, there is a light-hearted eleventh hour “competition” between the two “teams,” before the final scene brings all the talent to the stage at once.

Like all shows, this one has its highlights. At this point in his career, Pena is obviously enough at ease with himself that he can step back a little from the limelight and allow his ensemble to shine.

Among the vocalists, the American Carlos Talez comes closest to embracing the relaxed style of the nightclub performer, particularly when placed alongside the stylized vocal conventions of the flamenco cantor. Yet Inmaculada Rivero, the senior of the two European vocalists, doesn’t hesitate to step out of form – dancing with one of Pena’s guitarists during their “contest” with the Americans.

Angel Munoz is clearly the more engaging of the two male dancers, which may be why he gets more ice time than Martinez. Audience members are likely to differ in their opinions of Charo Espino and Daniela Tugues – the two female dancers – whose onstage presence is strikingly different.

Espina’s style is much less stern and rigid-looking than that of some flamencas, and as she tosses and swivels her hips about between concussions it isn’t hard to see flamenco’s origins in Arab Spain.

Constantly migrating between forms, Tugues also graces the stage less frequently than Espina. Her highlight of the evening – a distinctly contemporary solo set to the accompaniment of the cajon – is as brilliant as it is all too brief.

One thing “Flamenco Without Borders” lacked was music from the canon of 18th- and 19th-century European masters. It was not missed at this sensuous, unusually rollicking start to the Al-Bustan Festival.

Paco Pena’s “Flamenco Without Borders,” will be re-staged Thursday at 8:30 p.m. at Beit Mery’s Emile Bustani Auditorium. For more information about Festival Al-Bustan see www.albustanfestival.com