'INMIGRACIÓN': COMPAÑÍA DE ÁNGELES GABALDÓN

We're all of us immigrants

Candela Olivo. Seville, November 19th 2003

'Inmigración': Compañía de Ángeles Gabaldón. Dancers: Ángeles Gabaldón, Marco A. Vargas, Fani Fuster, Felipe Mato, Lourdes Recio, François Soumah, Nicolia Morris, Chloé B. Dauphin. Music: Daniel Méndez, Manuel Pérez, Keko Baldomero, Antonio Montiel, Orquesta Chekkara de Tetuán. Vocalists: Jallal Chekkara, Manuel Lombo. Choreography: Javier Latorre, Ángeles Gabaldón, Marcos A. Vargas. Lyrics: Juan José Téllez. Sound engineer: José Luis Álvarez. Lighting: Juan Luis Domínguez. Stage design: Fernando Lima. Stage manager: Belén Candil. Scripted and directed by: Fernando González-Caballos. Produced by: Taller Flamenco. Teatro Central, Seville. November 19th 2003, 9pm.

'Inmigración' (Photo: Antonio Torres)

A shirt floats on the water. The last trace of a broken dream, a life snatched away. The metaphor goes way beyond the evening's entertainment. And as the curtain is raised it becomes a simile. Yesterdays emigrants from Spain were immigrants once they arrived. And those Spaniards who traveled across Europe back then in search of a better life, are like those who leave Africa to cross the Straits of Gibraltar today in makeshift boats, desperate to reach Spain's bountiful shores. The opening number makes the comparison clear, choosing a Christmas celebration in full regalia to set the scene, and with theatrical dance routines as a vehicle of expression.

Ángeles Gabaldón starts out unaccompanied, with the gentle, elegant movements that so characterize her dance. Composure, gyrations, a conjuring of the spirits. No frantic footwork here. Guitar and cajón beat the rhythm. More guests appear on the scene. A piece with three dancers which bears the hallmark 'Latorre'. And another couple enters the fray; one of them is cantaor Manuel Lombo, who recites well-known carols rewritten by Téllez, beautifully performed. "Glory be to those who have left us". The soloist, then a chorus; the footwork, the huddled group. The dance is first class. The music gives it a velvety touch. Daniel Méndez the composer, a name to watch for the future. A tragicomic celebration. The song 'El emigrante' by Juan Valderrama can be heard on the radio, and the group stops to listen... Silence, nostalgia, sadness.

Now a switch… those who once were received in another land now have their turn to receive. An audiovisual montage shows it all, without any need for dialogue. The frontier. For those who make it this far, crossing the border is by no means the journey's end... 'Rechazo' - rejection - deals with the next step, three male dancers performing por soleá. Felipe Mato, Marcos A. Vargas and François Soumah, act out the two against one, as scorn is heaped upon the immigrant in a cruel 'welcoming'. The vocals tell the whole story: "Tú no eres como nosotros, me dijeron en el bar, le he contestado que a dios gracias, que nunca nadie es igual" ('You aren't like us,' they told me in the bar; I replied thank god that no two people are ever the same.) Jallal Chekkara echoes the lament in Arabic, pulling at the roots of flamenco. The trio on stage are outstanding. The message is loud and clear, without need for acting out further evidence. The depths man can sink to are laid bare without remorse.

Fade to black. Another side to the reality of human trafficking: prostitution. The female members of the company, led by Ángeles Gabaldón, show the sordid den where sex slaves are stifled to death. 'Comprando la libertad' - buying freedom. Nightclub lighting and a taranto-rock by Pata Negra set the scene. The cantaor is, this time, the pimp. Shadows cast behind the stage give extra depth to the story, and lend it a certain beauty. The piece is at the very least provocative, somewhat disturbing, a little wild and a little sad at the same time. The execution is brilliant. And the story begins again, with the silhouette of a young girl holding a suitcase…

'La odisea' - the odyssey - marks the climax of the main part of the production. An audiovisual interlude by Yvan Schreck introduces the piece. The Spanish Civil Guard intercepts a launch on the Spanish coast. "Stay calm, stay calm. Help me out here, amigo". The hand which is reached out toward those eyes filled with terror is the same hand which will take them back to where they came from… The odyssey still isn't over. The projection fades and black bailaora Nicolia Morris emerges - a dancer who made her début on the flamenco scene alongside Israel Galván in 'La Metamorfosis' three years ago. She is the sea, giver of life, taker of life. The sound of waves from the Orquesta Chekkara de Tetuán is a delight. And she dances as if she is winged, light, airy… but in command, true. Extreme beauty, extreme sensitivity. She represents water; she is water.

'Inmigración' (Photo: Antonio Torres)

Flashback. 70s Spain. With the same theatrical tone (somewhat naïve) as the intro, the company plays out "el regreso feliz" (the joyful homecoming). The vocals are narrated again por bulerías, with a taste of Lebrija: "Venimos de vacaciones de una tierra que no es nuestra, a este lugar que tampoco nunca nos perteneciera. Son inmigrantes como nosotros lo fuimos antes" (We come for holidays from a country that is not our own, to this land that was never ours either. They're immigrants just as we were before.) Here, in 'Vivir para contarlo' (Live to tell the tale), the company goes upbeat and 'festera'.

The downside is the unfortunate return… no return. After a prolog of striking images, Ángeles Gabaldón breaks onto the stage, serene and somber, dancing por seguiriyas... with her eyes blindfolded. 'El silencio', silence, blindness. The vocals sweep her off the ground, both the flamenco vocals and that ancient flamenco which emanates from the Moroccan cantaor, who accompanies himself on violin. Shuddering. The patterns she makes are a sight to watch in her white 'Bata de cola' flamenco dress. Ángeles Gabaldón, the aesthetician of flamenco dance, she of the subtle movements. And the show reaches its final crescendo.

There was no room for indifference. If we judge the show artistically some would opt for one scene, some another… a question of taste, there's something here for almost everyone. And there's no denying that the parts flow together into a coherent whole with a good rhythm, different languages woven together with skill. This fresh company's offering is original, starting with the idea that the artists are drawn from different countries, and the quality of the performances is undeniable. And if we judge them according to their intentions, there is no doubt that this attempt to use flamenco as a means of social protest is a praiseworthy one indeed. It's about time somebody did it. We're all of us immigrants.

magazine@flamenco-world.com