Eva cries out with all her body and time stands still... the music, the dancers, blend into the shadows, the atmosphere darkens and a soprano voice ends the soft symbolism, of images that are as fuzzy as suggestive, in this work of flowing velvet whose debut represented one of the greatest successes of the last Bienal.

Elasticity with well-lubricated stops in the first of the five movements, dedicated to fluctuating love, a sinuous 'Eve' twisting more and more as she travels her sentimental journey. The first time Eva is left alone is in the soleá, wearing a short jacket that highlights her prodigious hips. She retires to the couch. The singing backup is first class: Arcángel, Segundo Falcón and Enrique Soto, who uses a 'caña' (percussive instrument) in the bulería por soleá - Enrique was brilliant in this, his hometown, singing primitive cantes for 'La Ambición'. With his lofty cante, Arcángel put wings to Yerbabuena's dancing, grey matter and metaphor.

Eva la Yerbabuena

It's impossible to ignore the composition work and guitar of Paco Jarana (with some tones a bit removed from flamenco to soften the positions of the five women represented by his wife) backed up by Salvador Gutiérrez. Of the dancers, two of them had passed through the Villamarta theater in previous days: Andrés Peña was the main figure in two dances the night of Valderrama, and Pedro Córdoba shined as Molilo together with Grilo.

A infant's babbling, abstractly projected over Eva on the couch where she reclines and to which she gives a slow and arduous turn while the lyric soprano sings a minera. A voice offstage says: "Like a swarm of angry bees, the memories come to visit me..." It's Eva in 'Soledad'.

Eva is dressed in one corner, they prepare her for the seguiriya, a monumental seguiriya, rich with curves and pauses after impetuous moments, tender, loving desplante. The musicality of her heels in the bulerías is followed by the seguiriya, transitions until the appearance of the bone-colored form in the bulería. Although the last cry is an operatic one.

Marina Heredia
Villavicencio Palace, 19:00

Marina Heredia

Marina paints herself like a watercolor of cold beauty. "The new era of the cell phone" were her first words between cante and cante, six in all: toná to get into the swing of things with personalized arabesques, alegrías, an exquisitely detailed soleá with little-felt stylized touches, an orthodox minera and personalized levantica, fandangos without anything to latch onto, nevertheless, the guitar of Emilio Maya, who knows her well, and por bulería she sticks in as much cuplé as Luis de la Pica, but since she's stronger in tangos she leaves us with a taste of her hometown, Granada, with more tangos for the encore. For all her youth and elegance, sparse and insecure.

Luis Clemente
Translated by Estela Zatania