Dance in general doesn't necessarily have to tell anything. Or rather, it should tell a lot: emotions, vital sensations. But what it doesn't necessarily have to be is narrative. The dance, now evoking Vajéry, is a language in itself, it tells without the need to resort to an argument already written in a previous novel or in a play, or without the need to tell someone's life in a documentary film. Dance is the need to channel excess bodily energy when, after using it for the practical needs of life, we still have some left over as an energy reserve. And we exhaust that energy in a jump or a tap of heels until we are exhausted, in the same way that the whirling dervishes twirled around immersed in the entire universe until they collapsed exhausted. There have been great adaptations to Spanish and/or flamenco dance, sometimes successfully. A milestone in this regard is the Rinconete and Cortadillo of the teacher Javier Latorre. But they are exceptions.
"I really enjoyed the alegrías, with their great visual impact and beauty, topped off, as is traditional, with bulerías from Cádiz. The dancers were dressed in the style of the Sevillian school of dance, wearing shawls and long dresses, celebrating a happy flight of white wings."
Now, closing the professional galas of the 64th edition of the International Festival of Cante of the Mines from La Unión, the Ballet Flamenco Andalusia he presented Blessed land. And that land, of course, is Andalusia. And the show, put on by the Ballet's current director, Patricia guerrero –National Dance Award, Desplante Award at this festival in 2007–, is a thematic, musical, and dance journey through different Andalusian regions, but also an emotional and romantic journey. Yes, there is a subtle plot that technically (and very successfully) unites the structure of the show. But, above all, it is a journey through the different palos of the flamenco, from the initial taranta of eastern Andalusia to the fandangos of the other end of the country, Huelva. The show does not account nothing, just shows, just exhibits dancing bodies (the body, the entrance to the soul) and lets the viewer put the rest, but without the need to tell them obvious things as if it were a journalistic documentary.
The entire dance corps is magnificent; all the choreography is highly accomplished and finely tuned, composed with precision and continuity without any surprising leaps. At times, the performance becomes almost minimalist: dim lighting, simple heel tapping without guitar or voice, simple castanets—but how formidable—marking rhythm and beat. And, finally, none of those quasi-symphony orchestras that have become fashionable these days, accompanying any dance, whether ballet or solo dancer. I really liked the alegrías, of great visual impact and beauty, culminating as is traditional with bulerías from Cádiz, and with the bailaoras dressed in the style of the Sevillian school of dance, wearing shawls and bata de cola, celebrating a joyful flight of white wings, with the need not to entangle one another, especially on a stage limited laterally by the beautiful, but in these cases insidious, columns.
The Festival competitions have begun. Stay tuned.
