Grupo Corpo, and this is not an insult, is the perfect company to perform for investors. Totally accessible and infectiously rhythmic, they specialize in not specializing – in one piece alone, they might piggyback Latin ballroom on ballet, with a few wrestling holds thrown in for good measure. Judging by the delighted suits rolling down BAM’s aisles on Tuesday, the group had found its audience.

The Brazilian troupe, formed around brothers Rodrigo (the choreographer) and Paulo (the designer) Pederneiras, blends popularly exciting shimmy with high-caliber modern. Whenever that gets slow, they whip their clothes off. It’s a company that lives up to its name – “Body Group” in Portuguese – by putting some of the world’s most beautiful people into increasingly sexy positions at high speeds. For those who get a kick out of dance but don’t demand sophisticated structure, a night with Grupo Corpo is a thrill.

Even the hottest moves can get repetitive over time, though, and Rodrigo Pederneiras clearly has his goto gestures. Dance fans could start a lively drinking game: Every time a woman kicks both legs into a pike position, or every time the work quotes Bob Fosse, take a swig. But if the work looks “of a piece,” it doesn’t always function coherently. Even, or rather especially, in non-narrative dance, pieces need the push-and-pull of pacing to sculpt the experience. That’s not Grupo’s forte.

Mr. Pederneiras works brilliantly with pairs, less intelligently with groups, and worst of all when establishing overall shape. In “Lecuona,” the series of intoxicating riffs on ballroom dance, a chain of duets goes on two links too long, and “Onqoto,” a kind of abstract Brazilian travelogue, overpacks. One note: A danced version of a soccer game, no matter how energetic, can always be left behind.

The better of the two pieces comes first – a rapid-fire succession of sambas, tangos, and death drops named for Ernesto Lecuona’s love songs. Lecuona, called the “Cuban Gershwin,” wrote songs for Sinatra, so you know he has enough swoon to go around. Accompanied by his gorgeous recordings, couples dance the Grupo Corpo take on ballroom. Partners go limp at odd moments, flopping like dolls, and then wake to run in midair before dancing again. It’s athletic, often abruptly so: While a man holds his partner’s leg in a high developpe, she kicks back into a flying split, landing in time to continue her salsa.

Each couple appears in the smoky black space, lit with one vivid color. Behind their scrim, the pairs exaggerate various flavors of the dance. In one pas de deux, the woman might coil around her lover; in another, she might fight him. But each dance plunges whole-heartedly into a romantic darkness – even after the worst struggle, the couples end with a kiss.

Mr. Pederneiras makes no bones about what actually happens on dancefloors. Dance is a sex substitute, and he clearly enjoys closing the gap. If one of Grupo Corpo’s signatures is the “daring hip,” here they work on the “surprise groin.” But all the thrusting comes to an end in the big final number, clearly meant to remind us of Busby Berkeley or the final scene of “Dirty Dancing.” Finally the scrim lifts to reveal mirrors and the entire company waltzing in a cheesy swirl of white tulle. Though it’s meant to feel inclusive, a Hollywood ending of “Everybody dance!” doesn’t sweep us along. Instead it just fritters away all the hard-won sexiness on a wrongheaded cliche.

“Onqotô,” set in a half-circle of what seem to be rubber vertical blinds, has gorgeous moments, but you can’t always see them for the kitchen sink. Wrestlers, who let their partners slap violently onto the ground, work beautifully next to quieter moments, like a slow crawl by a naked man. But there are also soccer games, capoeira, and more self-consciously funky movement than one piece can handle. Eighteen dancers Fosse-slinking about don’t help matters: It all seems more “dance-team” than dance. At least the set lets them disappear and reappear – popping out unexpectedly or vanishing at will. It’s a clever trick, but ending a piece cleverly doesn’t substitute for giving it a good middle.

Until October 29 (30 Lafayette Avenue, Brooklyn, 718-636-4100).