Espace François Mitterand,
Monday, June 30th, 2003. 9:00 p.m
We arrived in the lovely “City of the Three Rivers” just
in time for a café olé (yes yes, it's written “au lait”, but
in view of the circumstances…), and then on to the presentation
of the festival by its artistic director Javier Puga. All
the beautiful people were there, and how times have changed
since those tours when a “dressing-room” was a curtained area
in the wings and we had to moisten our makeup sponges with
Coke because there wasn't any water. Flamenco has its highs
and its lows and for several years now Spain's most universal
music has been moving the millions. France in particular has
a long history of infatuation with flamenco, dating at least
from the nineteen-forties when dancers Vicente Escudero, Argentinita
and Carmen Amaya, and later on singers Rafael Romero, Juan
Varea and others, had all Paris abuzz with their art.
An enticing and
entertaining show which oozes
as much preparation as high financing.
If you're short on time and want the condensed version of
this review, let it be said that this production of The Thousand
and One Nights is a group of about thirty young people, unbelievably
attractive and highly competent in their respective fields,
doing silent film to orientalized flamenco. This is an enticing
and entertaining show which oozes as much preparation as high
financing. The quickest way to clean up flamenco is to give
a bunch of money to a flamenco and tell him or her to create
a work, because they're capable of actually finding a way
to do it, but it's also clear that there is a place for this
type of production on the most important international stages.
The night gets going with a guitar solo of bulerías
by three of the Losada brothers which serves as a collective
signature to remind us who is responsible for the entire work.
Immediately the deficient sound becomes noticeable and unfortunately
continues to be a problem throughout the evening in this mega-theater
equipped with two giant video screens where the show is projected.
The hand of choreographer
Antonio Canales is evident
at every point although the dancers skillfully manage
to insert their own personalities.
Photo: Estela Zatania
What follows is the series of six vignettes that comprise
the show, and we resist the temptation to read the accompanying
libretto because that's too much like cheating. The stories
are developed more or less clearly, occasionally resorting
to an annoying offstage voice to fill in details, and there
are abundant flashes of recognizable flamenco: bulería, malagueña,
tientos, tangos, siguiriya, farruca, soleá apolá, rondeña,
taranto and alegrías, all at the service of the plot. The
hand of choreographer Antonio Canales is evident at every
point although the dancers skillfully manage to insert their
own personalities.
…plenty of leggy
girls and bare midriffs…
fiesta in the Jerez district of Cairo…
Not one single carnation, not one polkadot, not a ruffle
in sight…but plenty of leggy girls and bare midriffs, always
with good taste it must be pointed out. This is such a slick
show that with a few strategically placed sequins it would
fit perfectly in the most posh Las Vegas club. The “forty
theives” appear as dark ninjas dancing bulerías…another
number could easily have been called “fiesta in the Jerez
district of Cairo”…there's also a Canales-style fake belly
dance with finger cymbals included. Truly negative points,
few. It's annoying that the singers are heard but not seen.
In almost all the arrangements the flute is overused giving
an eerie Debussy sound to the music depriving it of the innate
energy of flamenco…or perhaps that was the idea, to soften
and orientalize the sound.
Belly-dancing with
a flamenco touch, or flamenco
with oriental dance applied
Noteworthy were the female singer/dancer who plays Sheherezade
(unfortunately there were no programs to be able to cite precise
names), the dancer who played, among other parts, Aladdin,
and the man who played the curious string instrument called
a kanu. Lavish staging and effective lighting throughout.
So in the end we never really figured out whether this was
belly-dancing with a flamenco touch, or flamenco with oriental
dance applied, but the crowd that nearly brought the place
down with applause, stomping and shouts of approval after
the final curtain, had little use for such an academic question
