Hubbard Street Dance Chicago, Sadler's Wells, London

You often hear it said that dance is an international language, but that makes it sound rather flavourless, where at best the reverse is true. The point about seeing visiting companies from abroad is that each speaks with its own particular accent. As the song says, "You say tomato and I say tomato", and the first thing that hits you about Hubbard Street Dance Chicago – a 25-year-old company only now making its UK debut – is how very American it is, despite almost half its 20 dancers having been born and trained elsewhere.

What makes Hubbard Street different from, say, NDT, or Rambert, who work with a similar cocktail of ballet and contemporary styles, is – in a word – jazz. Hubbard Street (named after its humble first premises in Windy City) was founded by Lou Conte, a veteran Broadway hoofer. One of its early fans was Fred Astaire. And though the company's style has become more eclectic over the years, that old jazz-dance attitude prevails. The self-regarding angst that afflicts so much contemporary dance in Europe has no place in a Hubbard Street performance. This dance company believes in straight-down-the-line entertainment.

Which isn't to say there's anything predictable or cheesy about the show that opened at Sadler's Wells last week. In Let's Call the Whole Thing Off, a duet by Harrison McEldowney, the girl – dressed for a high school prom circa 1955 – launches a verbal assault on her date the minute he appears. He's late, and the first verse of the Gershwin song is danced by winkle-pickered Shannon Alvis to the pathetic accompaniment of Jamy Meek's stream of excuses. Then it's his turn to hunker down to the strains of Sammy Cahn's "Call Me Irresponsible" while the girl gives him another earful sustained – impressively – for the length of the disc. It's certainly a novelty to hear dancers speak, but the more subtle comedy is woven into the dancing – hers all sassy and scornful, his, boyish and unsure – one minute cringeing at her feet like a scolded puppy, the next mocking her tirade and using his hips to signal what he really thinks dating is about. Taken as a whole, it's a beautifully succinct study of the pitfalls of romance.

There's more of that throw-away style – deceptively casual, because the technique it demands is fierce – in a work called Split by Trey McIntyre, one of the busiest choreographers on the US circuit. A climactic percussion solo by jazzman Art Blakey inspires athletic formations in which boys and girls in Diesel jeans and Audrey Hepburn slacks incorporate baseball swings, 4th of July salutes and football tackles. What's clever is that these sporting images are not over-worked – they flicker by so fast that you could easily miss them – so the impression that lingers is one of generalised high energy and style with the Stars and Stripes stamped all over it.

Read My Hips, a big, macho finisher by Daniel Ezralow, suffered in the Sadler's Wells programme by covering too similar ground, even though the tone cranked up a gear into comedy. A sequence for two near-naked wrestlers pops its own bubble of Gladiators-style mock-seriousness when one of the hulking dudes fails (spectacularly) to catch a leap by the other.

By the end of the generous two hours you begin to see another characteristic emerge. Hubbard Street is not about individuals. It's a team, a pooling of talent into a collective ego. And that's both a strength and a liability. I now only fuzzily recall the performance of Counter/Part, the opener by new artistic director Jim Vincent, because its solos were all so anonymous. But David Parsons's eccentric comedy The Envelope, in which the dancers are identical humunculi in black hoods and shades, worked a treat.

Take a string of Rossini overtures and a daft plot about a letter nobody wants to open, add in some sly quotes from Swan Lake and Les Noces, double-joint your dancers so their elbows stick out to the front (ouch) and you've got the weirdest, quirkiest shaggy dog joke ever told on a dance stage. Entertaining? Oh yes.

j.gilbert@independent.co.uk

Hubbard Street Dance Chicago: Dome, Brighton (01273 709709), Tue and Wed