SEVILLE'S BIENAL DE FLAMENCO 2002. 'MINOTAURO'

Pseudo bravery

Silvia Calado Olivo. Seville, September 8th, 2002
Photos: Javier Hurtado

Minotauro. Antonio Canales. Women dancers: Mónica Fernández, Sonia Fernández, Laura González. Male dancers: Juan de Juan, David Paniagua, David Romero, Paul Vaquero, Antonio Sánchez. Singers: José Luis Carmona, Antonio Suárez, Guadiana, Luis Carmona, David de Morón. Guitarists: José Jiménez, El Viejín, and David Cerreduela. Cajón: Sabú. Violin: Bernardo Parrilla. Flute: Eloy Heredia. Story: Lucho Ferruzzo. Lighting and stage design: Sergio Spinelli. Lope de Vega Theater. Seville, September 8th, 2002. 9:00 p.m.

No excuses. 'Minotauro' should have worked on its own merits and been bravely presented to the Seville audience, yes, in the Bienal de Flamenco. Nevertheless Antonio Canales opted for one of these shows that just gets you through the moment, and it was titled 'Noche de café cantante', afterwards launching his pungent new work...which, as he advised beforehand, did not leave peopleindifferent. "I came here to see flamenco". "Forgive me for having brought you". "This is the BienalFla-men-co". "What he ought to do is dance". "I don't get it". Those were the kind of wise-guy comments that came from the audience, which in spite of being put off, was respectful straightthrough to the end.

Put off. There was a reason for feeling that way: shouts, violence, bad vibes, noise, suffering, shots, frights, machines, angles, little flamenco... Antonio Canales' declaration of intent had already set forth that in this "free adaptation of the myth of the Minotauro, I took the liberty of untying my hands and telling the story of a tortured man, the victim of sins that were not his." No sooner said than done.

The dancer from Seville, in excellent form by the way, drew from a full palette of staging and musical resources, with the complete support of this story line. There were musical oddities attached to the musical part, such as songs by the Icelandic singer Björk created for the soundtrack of the Lars Von Trier's film 'Dancing in the Dark', a demoniacal steel-string guitar piece, West African story-tellers, somewhat cleaned up, nature… And of course, flamenco: live, Guadiana's brilliant cante, hinting at things from his second record 'Brillo de Luna' (Nuevos Medios, 2002) such as the seguirya; and taped, in the voice of Miguel Poveda, the bulería that closes his work 'Zaguán' (Harmonia Mundi, 2001). The staging distilled know-how and good lighting ideas, always playing down the story line with subtleties and good taste, and in the stage sets recreating that suffocating machine world full of chains. From the dance angle, there was plenty of formal experimentation, some good choreographic ideas in the managing of the group, dance that went beyond flamenco (whether you call it classical, contemporary or even ethnic), and even a few moments of good dancing. In the staging-interpretation-theatricalization, acertain hackneyed aftertaste in scenes already clichè: the fight, the drunkenness, the challenge, the salvation. Overall, tension, intensity and surprise, all having the undeniable virtue of being exceptional in this sort of show.

You could taste the audience's displeasure when the curtain fell. Not everyone stood up, nor did everyone even applaud. They had already done so earlier when Antonio Canales came out on that big stage which looked like a red-light district and where nothing needed to be explained… nor was there cause for displeasure.

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