She walks her dark road: "Antigona"

Acclaimed flamenco artist Soledad Barrio
with members of Noche Flamenca in Antigona
(photo: Zarmik Moqtaderi)

Nothing prepares you for Antigona, classical Greek tragedy viewed and renewed through the Spanish art of flamenco.

Perhaps you've read the primary source (Sophocles) or a recent review of Soledad Barrio and Noche Flamenca's production, now in its second New York run (West Park Presbyterian Church). Perhaps you've long followed the careers of Barrio and her husband Martín Santangelo, Noche Flamenca's artistic director. In the end, none of that matters. This Antigona, this phenomenon, will make your eyes fly open in surprise.

Ninety-minutes in length, with no intermission, it is dense but swift-moving, integrative theater by artists originally noted for the intimate simplicity and transparency of their approach to flamenco. Although Noche Flamenca has previously experimented with characters and storytelling, the company has never risked as much nor won as much as it has with Antigona. And no one can say "At least, see this show for Barrio's dancing," since every aspect of the production is carefully, generously wrought and woven into the whole, each working towards overall excellence.

Like the Sophocles play, Antigona is a highly moral and political work of theater, dramatizing the conflict between conventional law and a private sense of family honor and justice. In short, Antigone/a--daughter of Oedipus, former King of Thebes--loves her rebel brother Polynieces as much as the brother, Eteocles, who remained loyal to the state. Both are now dead by each other's hand, and the new king, their uncle Creonte, orders a fine burial for Eteocles while denying burial to Polynieces. This is anathema to the gods, and Antigona's anguished intervention draws her and those around her towards a dark fate.

The static church setting at West Park presents visual limitations--including, for the audience, level rows of pew seating--but dynamic stagecraft and variable temperatures of light stir the drama to life. Even without the warrior brothers' pivotal, badass dance battle, accompanied by rocking percussion and electric guitar, that pits the flamencero Polyneices (Carlos Menchaca) against the hip hop of Eteocles (Robert Wilson), this production would work for the typical attention spans of today. Fifteen scenes quickly tumble after and into one another. Instrumental and vocal music ring out strong. Dashes of lyric poetry, enough to give the gist of a singer's lengthier expression, are projected above the action. And the placement and movement of players continuously mutate, neatly exploiting every level, angle and corner of the stage. All of it comes at you without cease and with equal respect and weight afforded each discipline--dance, music, singing, acting, visual design.

Barrio dances at the corpse of Polyneices in Antigona.
(photo: Zarmik Moqtaderi)

Just turning focus to dance alone, you have Barrio sweeping through like a storm cloud. Never before has she danced better, attacking with the directive force and fullness of mature authority and, late in the play, with searing abandon. You're convinced the great performer has taken up sorcery with no qualms about slipping between the here-and-now and the world of the dead. But Barrio, lioness though she is, must share essential duties with Menchaca, Wilson, frequent partner Juan Ogalla (as Haemon, Antigone's bethrothed) who dances up an earthquake, and all of the tightly-orchestrated cast.

Juan Ogalla (Haemon) with Barrio
(photo: Zarmik Moqtaderi)

Singer Emilio Florido also stands out as an adroit, sassy Master of Ceremonies, and Marina Elana displays concentration and finesse in her dancing as well as unexpected comedy in her role as Ismene, a chatty Valley Girl narrator blithely filing her nails as her sister Antigona leads blinded Oedipus across the stage. In another wry scene, Creonte (the wonderful singer Manuel Gago) gets crowned with a matador's montera hat and drives hot pink bandilleras towards Ismene as she charges him, bar stool flipped up to her head like threatening horns.

Yes, comedy in the midst of tragedy. Antigona frequently toys with irreverent humor and does so in successful balance with other modes and moods. The power of political satire is key to understanding why Santangelo and Barrio felt moved to revive this ancient story: Antigone/a can illuminate any moment of social repression. Their publicity has referenced, among other things, its relevance to the Victorian era, South African apartheid and Franco's Spain.

Antigone, then, continues to walk her dismal road in all places and throughout eternity. And here's a thought to make you shudder: If inclined, one could also draw a parallel between this heroine's resistance--her adherence to personal belief against the rule of law--and the stance of, say, county clerk Kim Davis or some Oregon militia seizing a wildlife refuge.

Antigona continues through January 23. Click here for schedule information and tickets.

West Park Presbyterian Church
165 West 86th Street (between Amsterdam and Columbus Avenues), Manhattan
(map/directions)

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The great Soledad Barrio at The Joyce Theater

Martín Santangelo's vision for his renowned flamenco ensemble, Soledad Barrio & Noche Flamenca, continues to prove that superb music, dance and human voice, unadorned and with fidelity to tradition, can be enough, can archive and share rich experience. The stage at The Joyce Theater, the touring group's home through December 15, has been stripped to bare brick walls and several chairs for guitarists and vocalists. Apart from lighting designer S. Benjamin Farrar's moody poetry, everything needed is carried in the performers' skillful bodies, pulling us into the essence of human loneliness, attraction, pain and exuberance.

The current season reacquaints New York's fervent Noche Flamenca fans with the dreamy, sinuous beauty of Eugenio Iglesias's guitar work, sound quietly floating out to us like delicate incense and shaping images in the mind. Singer Manuel Gago's supple, buoyant way with his cante verses in Zambra Caracolera and guest dancer Antonio Jimenez's mischievous, in-the-moment freshness in Solea por Bulerías feel more authentic--meaning true to the actual person, not some persona--than much that passes for and is lionized as exciting flamenco performance.

I am, once again, delighted to see these three worthy performers surrounding the jewel in this company's crown, Soledad Barrio, Santangelo's wife and muse. She needs no dramatic froufrou. She is drama, so vibrantly alive as a body, even when merely stretching herself against the long line of partner Juan Ogalla in El Calzador, that you can imagine there's meaning, at least for her, in their connection.

What I notice in Barrio's Siguiriya, especially, is an active mind trained on something besides just performing. Not, What is the next step? How do I look right now? How does my footwork sound? (All of that has been well attended to and can be laid aside.) But rather, Who am I in this contained, gloom-threatened swath of light called my portion of life?

I notice a strong body determined to carve its singular mark in space and to exert magnetic--and enlivening--influence upon everyone within reach. Barrio's close interactions with the company's singers can be tender, or she can bear the sacred and humbling touch of a priestess. No conventional beauty and not possessed of meaningless charisma, she is a diva of flamenco by virtue of her willingness to reveal, as Teilhard de Chardin would have seen it, the spiritual being within as it has its human experience.

Choreography: Martín Santangelo, Gabriela Goldin Garcia

Dancers: Soledad Barrio, Juan Ogalla, Antonio Jimenez, Marina Elana
Guitarists: Salva de María, Eugenio Iglesias, Hamed Traore
Vocalists: Manuel Gago, Carmina Cortes, Jose Jimenez, Mayte Maya

See Soledad Barrio & Noche Flamenca at The Joyce Theater through December 15. For complete program and schedule information and to purchase tickets, click here.

The Joyce Theater

175 Eighth Avenue (corner of 19th Street)

(directions)

New triumph for Barrio and Noche Flamenca

Martín Santangelo's Noche Flamenca, with master dancer Soledad Barrio in the lead, is acclaimed for its stripped-to-the-core vision of flamenco music, song and dance without trimmings, tricks or modernizing gimmickry of any kind. Best savored up close in small spaces, Santangelo's array of excellent performers have delighted New York audiences with annual visits to the East Village's Theater 80 St. Marks. This season, the current cast is brightening winter at the West Village's Cherry Lane Theatre in Esta Noche No Es Mi Día, now through January 12.

The sensuous poetry of Esta Noche No Es Mi Día arises from darkness. In the lead-in to Amanecer (Dawn), we cannot see the singers, but we hear them clapping, stamping, calling to one another as they proceed onto the little stage. This dramatic opening in the dark stirs the heart.

And then we see them--black-clad Manuel Gago, Emilio Florido and Miguel Rosendo beneath a faint, warm glow of light. One after another, they take up the cry, stretching and slanting the notes and telling their truths. The rhythm moves with an insistent if stately roll, holding both resilient dignity and the weight of the painful history of Andalucia. Santangelo has put gitano song front and center--and weaves the singers throughout the program's action--to remind us of the human cry as the fundamental channel of flamenco's soul.

Barrio enters, dressed in tomato-red satin ruffles and flanked by her guys--Juan Ogalla and Antonio Jiménez. Right away, you understand that this woman is in charge, all about business, no phony baloney. The intimacy of the Cherry Lane's low-rising, unadorned stage, with its red brick walls, fits the increasingly charismatic Barrio to a T. 

This season, her performing reveals more maturity, dramatic range and emotional openness than she has ever shown. Dancing the Alegrías (her choreography) with Ogalla, she alternately leans against him and tries to lock eyes with him, pouring meaning and chemistry through her facial expressions as if to try to pull this frequent high-flyer down to earth. Ogalla, whose Farruca is one exception to the program's tight pacing, tends to rely on slick, cock-of-the-walk showiness even in excess of flamenco norms. Dancing beside Barrio, he vacillates between light flicks of attention to her and a clearly more comfortable focus on how good his technique is looking. In Farruca, freed of Barrio's presence, he indulges this tendency--which is not to say that it doesn't work for a less critical audience, because the man can genuinely dance like a demon and shimmy like your sister Kate.

I much prefer the dark odd-duckery of Antonio Jiménez. His dancing feels like it comes from a place of deep thought, jarring conflict, haunting memories. His Solea por Bulerias seems to say, "My world is spinning out of control." His pacing and overall execution are quirky, eccentrically truthful. They have nothing to do with how he looks in the moment or who's looking at him.

Barrio dances with abandon in Siguiriya, and I have never seen her dance like this--her face tranformed, her whole body wrenched as if suffering the greatest pain, her attention fixed on a world we cannot see, simply gone. At the end of this intense, shocking solo, Barrio faces into a beam of light and appears to gather it to her like a splash of water to cleanse her head. The fever breaks. This solo is followed by the ensemble performance, Esta Noche No Es Mi Día, for which the evening is named. With roses in their hands, all of the performers offer tribute to their colleague Antonio Vizarriaga who died earlier this year.

Though I have not yet mentioned Noche Flamenca's esteemed, veteran guitarists, Eugenio Iglesias and Salva de María, both men coax honey and shimmering gold from their strings. The company's designers--S. Benjamin Farrar and Christopher Thielking--use atmospheric and tenebristic lighting with painterly magic. My companion was reminded of John Singer Sargent's El Jaleo.

If you have seen Noche Flamenca's past shows, go now: This might be Santangelo's best presentation ever, and Barrio gives her crowning performance. If you have never seen this troupe, what's keeping you? Go now, and hold onto your heart.

Ticketing 

Tuesdays: 7 pm
Wednesdays – Fridays: 8 pm
Saturdays: 2 pm, 8 pm
Sundays: 3 pm

Cherry Lane Theatre

38 Commerce Street, Manhattan

(west of 7th Avenue, south of Bleecker Street; map)

Rebeca Tomás at Theater 80 St. Marks

(photo of Rebeca Tomás by Zita Bradley)

New York fans of the renowned Soledad Barrio and Noche Flamenca know Theater 80 St. Marks as an intimate, vest-pocket stage for a small audience. Performers can scale back and work with natural effects and subtlety. They need not strain to project.

This weekend, Rebeca Tomás—a masterful flamenco dancer who has appeared with Barrio in Noche Flamenca—is making her solo debut at Theater 80 with a 75-minute program called A Palo Seco. And, I guarantee you, it's a major debut because, for better or for worse, Tomás holds nothing back. Shreiks of joy from her opening-night audience argued that it's "for better."

I'm going to insist that you see Tomás, but this recommendation comes with a caveat.

Her choreography and performance—so exacting and clean, I'd choose her as my surgeon—both feel aggressively over-dramatized. Even her frequent smile looks tense and self-conscious. Much is made of her slight stature (5'1”), her low center of gravity, and she's truly a well-crafted explosive device. Power in a woman is beautiful, but the ability to share the variable intricacies of one's self with an audience should also be prized. By comparison, her A Palo Seco colleagues--Sol "La Argentinita" and Laura Castellano--dance like ordinary mortals, and bless them for that.

Flamenco artists have been messing with the traditional formula for some time now. Big props to Tomás for the unique, if perhaps not terribly risky, vision of Metamorphosis, the first half of which shows the diva seated at a piano, arrayed in a sweeping, midnight-black bata de cola, as she plays Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata—expertly, beautifully--accompanied by violinist Alí Bello and electric bass player Sean Kupisz. It's an unexpected, spellbinding prelude, a respite of serenity. And then she gets up and unleashes her particular brand of flamenco—to Regina Spektor's edgy “Apres Moi.”

Besides Bello and Kupisz, Tomás's musical ensemble includes musical director/guitarist Pedro Cortés, percussionist/singer Oscar Valero, and singers David Castellano and Bárbara Martínez. The ensemble's needless over-amplification and its initial New Agey approach felt alien. However, as the show proceeded, the musicians and singers displayed more supple skills and thrilling collaboration ranging from traditional flamenco to a graceful interpretation of “Over the Rainbow.” Valero's fiery percussion, throughout, was extraordinary.

A Palo Seco continues tonight at 8pm and tomorrow at 3pm.

Complete program information

Theater 80 St. Marks
80 Saint Marks Place, Manhattan (between 1st and 2nd Avenues)
212-388-0388  Online ticketing

Soledad Barrio & Noche Flamenca

Soledad Barrio & Noche Flamenca, concluding its run today at Time Square's New Victory Theater, has long been one of my favorite troupes of any discipline, offering an unvarnished, powerful brand of flamenco dance, guitar and song. But that doesn't mean that Martin Santangelo's world-renowned company is above making a few missteps.

Despite New Victory's own modest size, the theater managed to dwarf Santangelo's production, and S. Benjamin Farrar's tenebristic lighting scheme nearly obscured much of it. I wanted to liberate the company from its setting, scrape the awkward darkness away from these familiar faces. I longed for Theatre 80, the teeny-tiny East Village hall where Barrio and her colleagues usually make their Manhattan stand, proximity and lighting invoke an intimate tablao, and audiences feel the passion in every cell.

Even at Theatre 80, I would have found this show wanting. The program notes for the opener --Camino, a world premiere by Santangelo--allude to the struggles of refugee children and to the work of a UN agency that provides protection and aid. One could say that much of flamenco expresses human pain and, often, a proud, stubborn heroism in the face of life's unpredictable challenges. Although the allusion is sincere, any connection between flamenco and refugee children is not clearly reflected in this presentation. And, though New Victory specializes in family-oriented, kids-friendly companies, I wonder just how much the small children attending this show could grasp of either the culture of flamenco or Santangelo's stated inspiration.

Noche Flamenca still packs great value. The blending of guitarists Salva de Maria and Eugenio Iglesias is as rich, warm and dreamy as ever; Manuel Gago and Emilio Florido, royal lions of flamenco song, continue to go from strength to strength. Dancer Manuela Vargas--earthy in form and manner, sometimes a Fury--turns the simplest pivot into a matter of gathering focus and contemplation. And, most of all, Barrio's dancing seems to become more pliant with every performance, transcending technique to infuse every solo or duet with character, drama, color, life. Heart's blood is in everything she does.

Since Noche Flamenca devotes itself to a pared-back purity, the reliability of each artist becomes paramount. The troupe would not be able to hide weaknesses behind a glitzy, pumped-up theatrical production. Which, uncomfortably, brings me to guest artist Manuel Reyes, ideal for a flamenco Riverdance.

Reyes--wiry, intense, dramatically bald-headed--has absolutely drop-dead perfect technique. Sad to say, he's not a good fit for Noche Flamenco. He is like a piece of steel dropped down in a field of wildflowers. While admiring his sharp line, his crisp attack, even the choreographic sass of his farruca--De Aquí, de alli, de hoy, de ayer--I was alienated by the fact that he fails to radiate genuine feeling. (And Reyes's De Aquí is a very, very long dance to watch if you're not having a good time.) Watch him dancing beside Barrio in their alegrías duet and see who is just delivering the steps and who is the more giving, creative interpreter of choreography.

In past seasons, the company has benefited from great male dancers like Antonio Jimenez "El Chupete" and Alejandro Granados, each, in his own way, a rivetting soloist and a worthy match for powerhouse Barrio. This loyal fan hopes Santangelo will bring them back.

Read my July 2008 review of Noche Flamenca's El Mar at Theatre 80.

Soledad Barrio: Caught between two lovers

photos of Soledad Barrio

La Dama del Mar is the world-class jewel in the crown that is El Mar, Noche Flamenca's currrent touring production. Presented at Theatre 80 Saint Marks, the two-hour program delivers the stripped-to-essentials, traditional flamenco music, song and dance that this Spanish company, under the direction of Martin Santangelo, has taught smart New Yorkers to expect and crave. But La Dama del Mar introduces something new from Noche Flamenca--dance theater that expresses a powerful narrative, modernizes the movement, and requires some sustained physical acting from its star, the electrifying Soledad Barrio.

La Dama del Mar offers a spare impression of Henrik Ibsen's The Lady from the Sea, offsetting the surprising subtlety and range of Barrio's dramatic abilities. There's no need for dialogue or the support of extensive program notes. Barrio's mercurial glances and expressions, her supple body language, the fresh responsiveness of her interaction with rival partners Antonio Jimenez "El Chupete" and Alejandro Granados--both excellent, heartful performers--are quite enough to tell this story of conflicting desires and hunger for freedom. This role is a profound revelation; Barrio exceeds her own sky-high standards.

Fans of the troupe--and we are legion--will find fresh joy in the familiar conventions of flamenco, particularly the delectable work of cantaors Emilio Florido and Manuel Gago and guitarristas Jose Valle "Chuscales" and Salva de Maria. And it's wonderful to meet new company members like Sol La Argentinita and Rebecca Tomás--who bring spark and spunk to their solo moments--and Jimenez, with his feral appearance and dark, trance-like performances, especially in his Solea por Bulerías. "El Chupete" has got true soul. Watching him, I wondered what a flamenco/tap jam with the late, great Gregory Hines might have looked like!

The Theatre 80 Saint Marks presentation of El Mar runs through August 14 on an irregular schedule. For schedule details and to purchase tickets, visit TheaterMania.com. For further information on the company, visit Noche Flamenca.

Noche Flamenca video

Tobias on the storied Soledad Barrio

Undertow: Noche Flamenca
a review by Tobi Tobias, Voice of Dance, July 15, 2008

Noche Flamenca and Soledad Barrio in "Aldaba"

photo: Alfonso Losa & Soledad Barrio

by Eva Yaa Asantewaa

Noche Flamenca and the great Soledad Barrio are encamped at the East Village’s Theater 80, midway through a two-month stand before taking their new production, Aldaba, on world tour. Once again this Spanish troupe’s dancing, guitar playing and singing are tremendous; it would be news if they were not–and that’s unlikely to be the case as long as founder/artistic director Martín Santangelo draws breath. The troupe continues to top itself, show after show, exceeding all expectations.

Aldaba’s name refers both to a stone castle’s sonorous door knocker and to life-shaking moments of awakening. Accordingly, this full-tilt production offers flamenco shorn of theatrical adornment and gimmicks, infused with titanic emotion. A handful of chairs provide the small stage’s only decor, variously reconfigured and occupied by singers Manuel Gago and José Anillo; guitarists Miguel Perez and “Chuscales” (José Valle Fajardo); company dancers Barrio, Vanesa Coloma and Elena Martín, and guest dancers Alejandro Granados and Alfonso Losa. They are all “just folks” whose costumes eschew both uniformity and showbiz glamour, tending towards the personal, rumpled and funky. Stephen Petrilli’s lighting might be more aptly called “darking.” In many scenes, heavy shadows appear to take on flesh, emit primal, heartbroken cries, and pluck liquid lines of sound from guitars. Even when fully illuminated, performers reach within themselves to draw from wells of melancholy and dark power.

Both the unforgettable Barrio and the intrepid Granados have redefined flamenco dance for American audiences. Now comes Losa in his first season with Noche Flamenco, a revelation. In the Solea por Bulerias, he seems to struggle with himself, a figure of roiling, looming danger, at times veering so far off-kilter (emotionally and physically) that he might tumble to the floor. But then he turns, rears, and with a look of gathering clarity, pulls himself together in time to launch a new attack on invisible or remembered enemies. Savion Glover’s next tap-plus experiment should include a one-on-one with Losa. Now that would be worthy match.

How wonderful to see Noche Flamenca again at Theater 80, its New York home, where the comfortable intimacy of the space and the performers’ clever use of it make an audience feel like guests at a tablao or members of the troupe’s extended family! You can catch Aldaba there through July 29. For complete schedule and ticketing details, call 212-352-3101 or click here and here.

© 2007 Eva Yaa Asantewaa