Especial IX Festival Internacional de Jerez 2005. Eva Yerbabuena. 'A cuatro voces'

All
the information IX Festival de Jerez

Dance: Eva Yerbabuena, Mercedes de Córdoba, María
Moreno, Sonia Poveda, Asunción Pérez Choni,
Luis Miguel González, Juan Manuel Zurano, Eduardo Guerrero,
Amador Rojas, Alejandro Rodríguez. Cante: Enrique Soto,
Rafael de Utrera, Pepe de Pura, Jeromo Segura. Guitar: Paco
Jarana, Manuel de la Luz. Sax-flute: Ignacio Vidaechea. Percussion:
Antonio Coronel. Choreograph: Eva Yerbabuena. Music: Paco
Jarana. Lyrics: Horatius García.

Text & photo: Estela Zatania

The eighth day of the Festival de Jerez at the Sala la Compañía,
withing the series titled “Los Novísimos”
[newcomers], Cádiz dancer Juan Ogalla, who partnered
Cristina Hoyos from 1993 to 2000 presented his show with Pedro
Sierra on guitar and the excellent trio of singers made up
of Pepe de Pura, David Lagos and Luis Moneo. His classical
line and updated choreography make for an interesting offering,
but as on other occasions in the Sala la Compañía,
the program contained long instrumental and cante solos which
the audience had little patience for.

Life as seen by Eva Yerbabuena,
and it’s a grim, inhospitable place

You
arrive at the Villamarta theater twenty minutes before the
hour announced for “A Cuatro Voces” with Eva Yerbabuena’s
group, and as you’re getting settled in you realize
there are already three dancer actors on the stage doing a
slow-motion pantomime of everyday activities: one is falling
asleep on a chair with a copy of the Holy Bible in his hands,
another is seated on the edge of the stage with his legs dangling,
yet another is folding pieces of paper and every four or five
minutes, oranges come rolling slowly across the floor from
the wings. You have the impression the three have been carrying
on for hours in this way with their own private ballet…the
dance of life if you will. Now and again an offstage voice
recites poetic phrases disguised as the typical warnings to
turn off cell phones or refrain from taking pictures. The
spiritual preparation is not unwelcome when you’ve just
hopped out of a taxi and are still hyperventilating from the
hustle-bustle of modern life. The final words, “life
as I see it” invite us to enter into the world of Eva
Yerbabuena.

This show of Eva’s that we saw at the last Bienal de
Flamenco de Sevilla carries a heavy payload of symbolism,
some of it more effective than others, and the “cuatro
voces” or four voices alluded to in the title are those
of poets Miguel Hernández, Vicente Aleixandre, Federico
García Lorca and Blas de Otero from whose work the
verses are taken. Intellectual overload perhaps for those
of us who just want to see Yerbabuena dance in case she should
reach those glorious moments that sometimes come to this dancer
and which make all which preceded seem like filler.

Serrana, siguiriya, fandangos, soleá por bulería,
tientos tangos, nana, soleá… Like so many shows these
days, the program promises flamenco galore, but the glaring
scarcity of cante – four fine singers, but little cante
– makes the final result fall much closer to the realm
of international modern dance than flamenco, although there
are some high-quality moments and several very effective theatrical
elements. The overall aesthetic and imagery owes a great deal
to the metaphysical art movement as typified in paintings
by Magritte or de Chirico: Eva in a rumpled white nightgown
seated beneath an overhead spot clutching a pair of men’s
shoes, women who look like priests from a distant galaxy,
falling leaves, a long black sailor’s rope with knots
that singer Rafael de Utrera, barefoot, manipulates as if
it were a rosary, singer Pepe de Pura (who also sang at seven
in the Juan Ogalla show) singing on his knees, individuals
who roam about the stage seemingly oblivious to the central
action. Life as seen by Eva Yerbabuena, and it’s a grim,
inhospitable place – even the Farruquito-style bulerías
she dances, and which would be the envy of many male dancers,
communicates more desperation than fiesta. And what’s
that outsized stuffed dog doing at the rear of the stage?

Guitarist Paco Jarana’s music is beautiful and some
original ideas, particularly in the soleá, are truly
inspired. Eva finds her own personal “duende”
briefly now and again, but there’s no spontaneity –
not one blink of an eye hasn’t been programmed with
its corresponding musical response – and the effect
becomes tedious. On planet Yerbabuena everything is perfectly
under control, but it’s not too much fun.

One important change compared to the version of this work
presented at the Bienal is that now Eva dances the final soleá
instead of standing immobile staring out at the audience.
The offstage voice has been maintained, ending again with
“this is my place and I wouldn’t change it for
any other” and now, it seems to explain Eva Yerbabuena’s
compelling need to communicate her vision through dance.

Another important facet of flamenco
which identifies it as an unmistakably Andalusian artform.

Shortly afterwards in the bodega Los Apóstoles, Chano
Lobato, Matilde Coral y José Luis Ortiz Nuevo, with
a little help from Rafael el Negro, Matilde’s husband
and a fine dancer in his own right, did an about-face to what
we’d seen at the Villamarta. Here, everything was spontaneous
and full of fun, and if Chano told the same anecdotes as always,
our laughter was as sincere as on other occasions, and Matilde’s
snippets of dance and delightful asides made us recall this
other important facet of flamenco which identifies it as an
unmistakably Andalusian art form.