Compañía María
Pagés. Dancers: María Pagés, María
Morales, Sonia Fernández, María del Mar Jurado,
Isabel Rodríguez, Emilio Herrera, José Barrios,
José Antonio Jurado, Alberto Ruiz. Músicians:
Ana Ramón, Ismael de la Rosa, Batio Hangonyi, José
Carrillo, Rubén Lebaniegos, Isaac Muñoz, Chema
Uriarte, Francisco Alcalde. Idea and script: María
Pagés and José María Sánchez.
Director: José María Sánchez. Choreography:
María Pagés. Lighting: Dominique You and José
María Sánchez. Staging: Cristian Olivares. Wardrobe:
Cristian Olivares, Pagés, Sánchez.
JUAN VERGILLOS
And Seville …
“Sevilla” in Seville can be taken in
a variety of ways. One of them, “Sevilla” in Seville.
Another, Seville. And another, “Sevilla”. What
I mean is it’s a María Pagés show. But
it’s also a show about a city, about a way of thinking,
of thinking about oneself and being. It’s a dance show.
It’s a contemporary flamenco work. A musical, in the
style of Broadway towards the end of the twentieth century.
It’s many things.
First, let’s look at Seville, the city. Seville doesn’t
recognize the familiar scenes. A tourist’s postcard,
a period piece colored with New York neon. The fair, Holy
Week, bullfights… In other words, everything the average
tourist guide offers. The fair, Holy Week and bullfighting
in Seville. But the fair, Holy Week and bullfighting in Seville
is something else. Something very difficult to capture artistically
(Albéniz, Turina, Font de Anta, Chaves Nogales, Cernuda,
Carlos Lencero, Riqueni … managed to do it), but something
else. I don’t mean to imply this was Pages’ intention.
In actual fact, Pagés is something else. An external
vision. From afar. Pagés, born in Seville in 1963.
From the outside looking in. In “Sevilla” there
isn’t the ambience of the city as much as of 52nd street.
“Sevilla” is not a show for Seville. Where you
can find yourself, surprise yourself, tremble, enjoy (Chaves
Nogales), become furious (Cernuda) or rest (Riqueni). Perhaps
that wasn’t even the intent.
Then there’s “Sevilla”. With music from
Seville (sevillanas), flamenco from Seville (soleá
and debla de Triana, with Tomás Pavón himself,
on tape, and Pepe Pinto cheering him on), or simply flamenco
(caracoles from Madrid, tientos, tangos). Or music inspired
in flamenco or Andalusia ((Shostakovich, Bizet, Serrat). Or
not (Mondugno, Gardel). Clichés were not lacking, more
or less stylized, nor was the French perspective of “Carmen”.
In fact the most dramatic moment came, once again, from Bizet’s
famous habanera with Pagés alone, before a naked backdrop,
monolithic, marking the rhythm. A Pagés who was as
sexy as she was childish, as dynamic as she was fragile. A
man-killer Carmen, crazed with her own game of hopscotch.
Because the choreography went hopping from one square to the
next. And the cave-like lighting, of nighttime, of the maternal
uterus. Uterus and ponytail, arms and legs, discipline and
hips, The Seville curve, no doubt about it. What I mean to
say is the most Sevillian thing in “Sevilla” is
the barroque style of arms and swiveling hips, all curves,
all Pagés. With a delightful wardrobe that revealed
every inch of her body which she exploited to the utmost,
over and over. That’s what “Sevilla” is
about. All of María’s shows. In a series of group
numbers and solos by the star herself. Numbers based on effects
such as the bullfight, with a wonderfully politically correct
costume, half bleeding bull and half bullfighter’s ornate
trappings. Or the shining shoes against a black backdrop.
The only thing is, after a time it becomes repetitious. I
would have been happy with the first hour, because the remaining
thirty minutes, aside from having lost the surprise factor,
contribute nothing.
In
“Sevilla”, in light of Pages’ brilliant
career, a touch of humor is missing and missed. But it is
about Seville after all. Belly-button of the world, the only
city in which admiring oneself, one of the locals’ favorite
pasttimes, is not a sin of vanity. No hemming and hawing.
A declaration of love. Decaffeinated, for general audiences,
especially those from beyond the Guadalquivir. The wardrobe,
as mentioned, sheer delight. And imaginative. Beautiful backdrops,
although the palace of the Alcázar appeared excessively
overbearing after the stylized representation of the Giralda
which descends twice throughout the show. The corps de ballet,
disciplined and measured, and the choreography, as always,
juicy. The musicians are good enough to eat, as is only fitting.
And the Carrillo-Labaniegos taranta that accompanies the bullfight
is subtle, contemplative and sensual.
Seville, overflowing with light and tunnels for the underground,
continues to seduce and to await…
