Dance: Javier Barón. Cante: José Valencia. Guitar: Dani de Morón. Actors: Luis Lara, David Pielfort. Text: David Pielfort. Director and script-writer: Fernando González-Caballos

Text: Juan Vergillos
Photos: Málaga en Flamenco (Carlos Díaz Martín)

BORING CONTRIVANCE

I actually thought this was going to be a Javier Barón show, a stage version of the great book of the same name by David Pielfort. Once again I got lost driving around the province of Málaga (I’m really learning a lot about local geography), only to end up disappointed, bored and angry.

José Valencia

José Valencia / Javier Barón / Dani Mendez

Barón did what he’s done so many times. You can almost imagine the telephone conversation:
“Javier, could you do a cameo appearance with us?”
“What exactly do you mean?What’s this about ‘schizo-something’?”
“Don’t worry, it’s just a symbolic appearance”.

And that’s just what Javier offers. Like José Valencia or Dani Méndez. A symbolic taste, a ‘tapa’, of his art. Malagueñas and bulerias that all aficionados have seen before, and changed not a whit to adapt to the new context. The context is the show itself, “El Gitanito Ezquizofrénico” [schizophrenic gypsy], a thesis. Ideas. And the thesis put forth in this work is even more boring than the one being written by the main character in this bogus comedy. The dialogues are as reminiscent of the cheesey comedian Chiquito de la Calzada as of the great Quinteros. At the show’s presentation someone said, I think it was the director himself, that truths would be revealed about what flamenco artists really think and talk about at the corner bar, but don’t dare express in public. But there is little truth in this work. Yes, a bit perhaps: Pielfort’s acting and poetry, a man who has proven himself to be a magnificent actor. Pielfort is a diamond in the rough waiting for a place to shine. The title of the show is taken from a wonderful collection of his poems, but they have nothing to do with gypsies.

Dani Mendez

The thing is, truth on stage, in a work of art, takes a great deal of effort. Other truths are the lack of ideas and the hackneyed dialogue that makes up most of the show. A little misery, a little flamenco investigation (also with its misery) and a dose of ill will. In his first work, “Inmigración”, González-Caballos proved to be incapable of coming to terms with the subtle relationship between reality and the depiction of reality. There is more truth in art than in history. In Galdós than in history books. Therefore, it is an exercise in bravery and stark nakedness. González-Caballos disrobes his characters right before our eyes, and the result is at least obscene as the daily news. So I wonder, what does he give to these characteres in exchange for usurping their intimacy?Do the people in which these works are inspired receive royalties for their original true-life experiences?That essential question, not seen on stage, is the heart of the question. I suggest the author exhibit his own nakedness. And then there’s the boredom. The boring nature of the thesis. But as Bergman once said to one of his actresses regarding his films, “yes dear, it’s boring, but boredom has its place in art”.

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Special MÁLAGA EN FLAMENCO