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XVI BIENAL DE FLAMENCO DE SEVILLA |
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SPECIAL COVERAGE: BIENAL DE FLAMENCO DE SEVILLA 2010 “CUANDO LAS PIEDRAS VUELEN” COMPAÑÍA ROCÍO MOLINA. Text: Estela Zatania Choreography and dance: Rocío Molina. Staging and lighting: Carlos Marquerie. Music and cante arrangements: Rosario Guerrero “La Tremendita”, Gema Caballero. Original music and guitar: Juan Antonio Suárez “Cano”, Paco Cruz. Palmas: Vanesa Coloma, Laura González. Some works, no matter how excellent or well-intentioned, no matter how big the budget or how many prizes they may have, ought to carry a disclaimer. “Cuando las Piedras Vuelan” is such a work. In my opinion it is not apt for flamenco fans. It is for followers of experimental theater, contemporary dance, avant-garde undertakings in general or even lyrical singing, and this is not meant to be a negative comment, but merely informative. On Sunday night, within the program of the Bienal de Flamenco de Sevilla, Rocío Molina, 26 years old, managed to fill the immense Teatro de la Maestranza with the pull of her name. A name she has earned via plenty of hard work, and fame cultivated with intelligence. I have no doubt whatsoever that “Molina” as her people call her on stage, is a genius, a prodigy, a major force in dance and probably the best flamenco dancer of the present panorama. Thing is, there are other things she likes better than flamenco, and clearly, like all human beings, she must follow her own dream and vision, something she does honorably, bravely and efficiently.
Like anyone else who sits down to watch any kind of show, I do so hoping to have a good time, even though that may sound superficial. Because even listening to a gut-wrenching siguiriya is “having a good time”, the famous catharsis defined by the Greeks. In this work, the energy of flamenco is missing. Contrasts are missing. Cante is missing. In the program it says the work shows “the latent movement which is life”, but “Cuando las Piedras Vuelan” is long, slow, melancholic, dark, depressing and northern in concept. A brief flash of life and flamenco feeling come as a great relief in the form of tangos de Triana, which automatically sends an electric charge to the audience. But again the flamenco-lover’s ear looks for cante but is instead served fine threads of melody with lyrical voices. You can be sure that’s exactly what Rocío wanted, because this is a woman with very clear ideas. She is also responsible for having chosen the prestigious Carlos Marquerie to direct the work. It never fails, directors and script-writers brought in from outside flamenco turn out work of great quality which is devoid of flamenco. I repeat: flamenco is not a priority for Rocío. There are audiovisual effects, some more successful than others. I admit I was fascinated by the filmed close-ups of owls – less fascinating were the abundant white stones which not only did not “fly” (“vuelan” in the title of the show), but served as instruments for two percussionists who played them with shoes held in their hands. Rocío appears in her underwear (a two-piece bathing-suit?), and it’s not that it’s offensive, quite the contrary, but there doesn’t seem to be any call for it. She does footwork on an amplified sheet of metal. An overhead video camera projects a bird’s-eye view of her dancing. Alegrías which is sung without guitar or marked compás, leads up to a nearly conventional dance, and you wonder what need there was for all that preceded. The answer is Molina is not seeking the flamenco aesthetic, but rather is determined to create her own. The guitar music of Juan Antonio Suárez Cano and Paco Cruz is ethereal and vague, and no pretense is made of communication between music and dancer; each element moves in its own dream-world. I don’t mean to give an opinion about “Cuando las Piedras Vuelan”, merely offer my observations so that anyone who buys a ticket to see it knows what they’re getting into. Rocío Molina continues to find new paths, her imagination seems not to know any limit and she triggers strong emotions with apparent ease. This is a classy piece of work, sincere, admirable and well-crafted. Flamenco fans are advised to abstain. “EL ESPEJO EN QUE ME MIRO” DAVID LAGOS Text: Estela Zatania Cante: David Lagos. Guitar: Alfredo Lagos. Palmas: Carlos Grilo, Lúa. Percussion: Perico Navarro. From the Maestranza Theater with nearly two thousand people, to the somewhat tattered Teatro Alameda where barely a hundred people showed up for the recital of one of today’s most interesting young singers. It was a transition as dramatic as it was edifying. What does it mean? It means that conceptual dance shows attract an international audience, and I’m never going to get rich writing about flamenco. It was uncomfortable plastic chairs instead of plush velvet-covered seats, but those who missed this recital, too bad for them. From the relentless melancholy of Rocío Molina, we moved on to the vital energy of flamenco, courtesy of Jerez singer David Lagos with his brother Alfredo Lagos on guitar.
A warm ovation received the two artists. David began with martinete and cabales, and then dedicated soleá de Triana to Seville, “the first place that took notice of my work”, a gentle dig that reflects how he is practically ignored in Jerez. David’s sweetly aching voice, rich and masculine, straight from the gut with no fakey effects, interpreted a theme from his record inspired in Antonio el Sevillano to whom it is dedicated. Tangos inspired in, and dedicated to Enrique Morente and malagueñas in honor of “the most unjustly forgotten singer of Jerez, don Antonio Chacón”. Bulería pa’escuchar “from my hometown”, excellent, and another dedication, this time it was cantiñas in honor of Chano Lobato. In the end, bulerías with the powerful underpinning you only get from having sung for dance, and the sincere rapport between the two brothers got the audience to their feet. |
