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ROCIO MOLINA
'Cuando las piedras vuelen' Festival de Otoño- Teatro Canal – Madrid May 27-30 2010 Review: Pablo San Nicasio “Rocío’s wings” She’s already one of the greats, and you hardly get to see her, like fine perfume that must not be squandered. Four days at the Autumn Festival (in spring), and once again you are aware that there is among us flamencos, an extraordinarily gifted dancer, artist and creator. The name of the game here is avant-garde flamenco, a role which this performer has taken on from the very beginning. And no need to become pedantic or feign praise.
Fifty-five minutes during which the stage, in all its dimension, takes in the different little supports that give life to the incredible greatness of Rocío Molina. A dancer with soft curves and delicate strength, capable of filling the most demanding stage with her brilliance. From the concise presentation with voice and nearly nude dancing, the trip takes us through the various facets of the dancer. Feet on metal, arms upon air, figure upon a stool, flamenconess in the tangos, fiesta and alegrías and bulerías, frivolity with a cigarette in the mouth… never forgetting to wink at the classic school (very 18th century in some moves) with a contemporary constant that meshes seamlessly with the past. And always Rocío as nighthawk and prey, moving through the stages of an existence that strikes her with each cante.
And what better accompaniment than the music of Cano. His most recent works, “Flamenco Crossover” and “Son de Ayer”, form the framework of the show, reinforcing our belief in this guitarist who along with Paco Cruz is the only masculine element of the group. There’s no fill-in. Rocío even gets dressed on stage. Led musically by a spectacular Rosario “La Tremendita”, the scenes meander from transcendental to bucolic, from primitive naturalness to the most cinematographic artifice, to end happily with the surprise of the unpredictable. The option of ashes to ashes and dust to dust, in this case stones, through a line of optimism is always something in which to rejoice. Especially if you’re not expecting it.
An intensity that never lets up, everyone with their eyes wide open, competing with owls and nighthawks that preside over the various sequences. They say flamenco is a woman’s creation made famous by men. If that’s so, the mystery of dance and singing are the work of feminine spirits that are right at home in the nightspace created by the great Carlos Marquerie. Rocío is stone that flies and strikes blows. As they sang to her last night…”What sweet tyranny that of Beauty”.
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