Luke Murphy Performs His "Drenched" at La MaMa Paula Lobo for The New York Times Drenched Carlye Eckert, left, and Luke Murphy in Mr. Murphy's piece at La MaMa's First Floor Theater on Friday, as part of La MaMa Moves! The La MaMa Moves! festival concluded over the weekend with an attempt at romance, which afforded little in the way of surprises. A man and a woman? References to romantic films? They're both prominent parts of "Drenched," a work choreographed by Luke Murphy that included snippets from "Gone With the Wind" and "The Bachelor." Instead of a rose ceremony, this dance incorporated petals - red ones, of course - which fell from the ceiling like rain. "Drenched," which opened Friday at La MaMa's First Floor Theater, is hardly passionate, though it is, in a way, aptly titled: There is not much subtlety in this look at coupling. Mr. Murphy, an Irish performer, relies on numerous film-and-television snippets projected onto geometric screens surrounding the stage to underscore points about heartbreak and intimacy. They're meant to be arch. The movement portion is mainly a duet for Mr. Murphy and Carlye Eckert, but the video, designed by David Fishel, is a constant distraction. "Drenched" is a Netflix dance, and for it, Mr. Fishel unearths audio-and-visual fodder in all the usual places: "The Graduate," "Dirty Dancing" and, of course, the dreaded "Love Story," with its famously cloying line: "Love means never having to say you're sorry." Mixed in are numerous aquatic shots, which gives "Drenched" an unfortunate wistful quality. The dance begins with Mr. Murphy and Ms. Eckert swaying slowly in the center of the stage; they are together yet distant. Later Ms. Eckert, left alone, has no equilibrium. She mimics slapping herself across the face; gradually, her body turns jagged. Leaning backward, she falls to the floor with her arms and legs splayed. Things don't seem to be going so well in the romance department for Mr. Murphy, either. While Sinead O'Connor's version of "Nothing Compares 2 U" plays, he scribbles letters to a woman named Agnes. It becomes clear through a voice-over that Agnes will never write back, and eventually Mr. Murphy's sentimental gaze turns angry. He cracks open a beer and drinks it sloppily, drenching himself. The ensuing duet, with its aggressive partnering and near collisions, is set to a routine about relationships from "Eddie Murphy Raw," the 1987 stand-up comedy film. Hearing it is probably the best part about the formulaic "Drenched," which maintains a static quality even as it progresses like clockwork, or a dripping faucet, from one scene to the next. When water is actually poured onto the stage, the literalness of Mr. Murphy's vision becomes suffocating. Sliding back and forth and stumbling about, the dancers show us something we already know: Relationships are hard.