Semi-darkness, a guitar, a mirror. Narciso sidles up to the place where forgetfulness resides, "Donde habita el olvido", and shortly afterwards slips on a yellow shirt. Esthetics for the sake of esthetics more than art for art's sake, with very some very yellow touches for his first show, a (poultry) tribute to the dancer from his hometown Manolete, substituting at the last minute for Manuela Vargas, who would have brought us something more interesting, because here the numbers pass unnoticed, without ruffles, or effects, or flair, with background music from behind a curtain covering six musicians and three singers in a Madrilenian vein offering a ballad-like introduction. The colorless dance whose title doesn't even respect the surname, because the opposite of saporific (yes, you might have confused it with soporific) is insipid.

Contrasts come after a great deal of movement to bulerías in "Unina dosina, tresina, cuartana...". Only the flute and the tangled touching of four women to highlight Rafael, now alone in a yellow-hued tango exhibition. A rondeña with a piano passage, devised by Tacha González, is carried out by her with a long bulerías tangent; another "outsider" choreography is Rafaela Carrasco's "Cautivos", which ends in a ballad before the sound comes in of a recorded string quartet for the pas de deux of silvery tenderness with Olga Ramos.

Amargo's form overly expressive, too unsubtle? It's the soleá which is marked by a first verse made into flamenco song at the insistence of Cristina Sánchez, a comet clone who owes an obvious debt to Estrella. An outsized shawl forms the background for the brightly-lit alegrías by five women who withdraw to leave Sonia Fernández alone for one of the most unfortunate dances of this festival that begins as "Diálogo del Amargo", and ends with more of Rafael.

What torture... they put a seguiriya together based on wicker chairs: the most undramatic seguiriya you could ever see and hear, with a Canales effect when they raise their arms and stomp away in a triumphant pose. Sequined T-shirts for the nine who dance the soleá por bulerías seated, "Nine stools" that Amargo finishes off with a little footwork bit while the rest of the group wanders around as if lost. Moving towards the finish line, an ambitious dance by three, between a mother, her son, and a rocking chair, and the rest of the troupe which bids farewell one by one between tangos and contrivances. Nearly two hours with no intermission: interminable. One thing for sure though: a showy performance for audiences who don't listen to flamenco.

FINAL NIGHT CLOSING

The final night was dubbed "Fiesta por bulerías", with the backdrop of a wine cellar, at the hands of the Moneo family, with a malagueñas also sung (El Barullo), tangos (Macarena Moneo), and, the best part, the soleá por bulerías of the patriarch himself, Manuel Moneo. And so ended the festival, although it continued with a cinema series and the two expositions devoted to Lola Flores (whose silhouette adorned several balconies in Jerez), one of the them titled like an American newspaper headline: "Doesn't sing. Doesn't dance. Don't miss her". Until next year.

Luis Clemente
Estela Zatania