FESTIVAL DE JEREZ 2009. ROCÍO
MOLINA, ‘ORO VIEJO’
Confirmed: the clock is
wrong
Silvia Calado. Jerez, March 7th, 2009
‘Oro viejo’. Rocío
Molina: baile, choreography, artistic and musical
director. Laura Rozalén: special baile collaboration.
David Coria, Moisés Navarro: baile. Paco Cruz,
Rafael Rodríguez: guitars. Sergio Martínez:
percussion. Bobote, Eléctrico: clapping. Rosario
la Tremendita: cante. David Picazo: stage director.
13th Festival de Jerez. Teatro Villamarta. Jerez (Cádiz,
Spain), March 7th, 2009. 9 p.m.

Rocío
Molina
(Photo Daniel Muñoz) |
|
While these lines were waiting to be
written, the old man said: “We’re here doing
something for life … since death comes all by
itself”. The sentence isn’t in ‘Oro
viejo’ by Rocío
Molina, but it could be. An entire night has gone
by along with the wee hours of the morning since, to
the sound of a huge ovation, the curtain dropped at
the Teatro Villamarta, and I’ve just realized
that the bailaora’s reflection is now everyone’s.
And here we are seated on the park bench or at the breakfast
table, listening to phrases as unquestionable as that,
starting to understand that indeed, “the clock
was measuring the outside time wrong”.
That’s why we don’t know
how long the show lasted. We’ll never know. The
only thing we’ll be sure of is the memory of how
this baile genius – remember, who is twenty-four
years old – drove the crowd mad with that dance
of hers bordering on recklessness. I couldn’t
explain why it gives that sort of fear-amazement-dizziness-fascination-enjoyment.
But what is absolutely certain is that we’re witnessing
something big, really big. And it makes you feel like
doing something so the whole world knows about it.
And besides the fact that, to top it
all off, her message remains and runs deep, the thing
is that her way of dancing has references … on
the other side of the galaxy. Dancing like this has
never been seen before. She danced the old man’s
quivering words in a chiaroscuro. She swapped her flesh
for porcelain in a milonga of a young lady from the
nineteenth century … insolent, graceful, divine,
with a frail appearance, with titanic depth. This piece
is fine jewelry. She had things jumping with ‘La
Catalina’, by means of a straw hat, hips, joking,
stabbing. Without further stuff than the clapping of
Bobote and Eléctrico, and the voice which had
to be that of Rosario
la Tremendita. She finished with the percussion
piece created online by Sergio Martínez entitled
‘Tortura’, a chilling way of speaking about
pain with body language that takes flamenco towards
the avant-garde and towards her within.

Rocío
Molina and Laura Rozalén (Photo Daniel
Muñoz) |
|
That’s with regards to the solos.
Since there are impressive quartets, trios and duos,
all of them perfect in formality and also in expression.
She was comical in the pasodoble, in ‘Limeña’
and in ‘Dónde va María’. She
was dramatic in the malagueña in which the two
bailaores assist her every time she loses her balance.
She was romantic in the duet with Laura Rozalén
to the orchestral sound of ‘María de la
O’. And she was old-time and current in the alternating
face-off por polo by the two of them. It goes without
saying that a great deal of quality is needed in the
company to achieve so many nuances and so much beauty.
David Coria and Moisés Navarro provide their
own sparkle to the service of the script, with perfect
technique and brimming over in any tessitura performed.
And Laura Rozalén is another story, that physical
exceptionality in a world which resists admitting the
diverse. How delightful her flashback was, her knowing
how to transport us to another time. The one which the
guitar-relic by Rafael Rodríguez comes from,
more so when it contrasts with the ductility and freshness
of Juan Cruz. And that’s all. Nothing else is
needed, except perhaps better luck on the technical
side (or more or better means at this theater, we begin
to suspect), to make a show which captures, wounds,
lights and entertains the audience from the first minute
to the last … no matter what speed each person’s
clock ticks at.