As the opening-night audience spilled from Eighth Avenue into New York's Joyce Theater in late September, a feeling of bright anticipation seemed to bustle right alongside. People were headed for the debut of a company assembled by the legendary José Greco, who for nearly forty years has personified Spanish dance for many Americans.
Greco came out of retirement in 1984 for several guest appearances. Now he is performing with three of his children: Carmela, age 30; José II, who turns 26 in December; and Lola, age 24. The elder Greco, who also has a birthday in December—his 70th—called the evening "The Next Generation." As the lights went down inside the theater, rows of eager faces looked forward to seeing a new dawn in Spanish dance rising before them.
Distinctive Footwork
What a difference an hour makes. As the crowd filed out for intermission, anticipation had been dulled by disappointment. Instead of the soul-wrenching drama some had expected, most of the first half of the program had been filled with tepid narrative ballets delivered in pseudo-Spanish style. Flamenco's distinctive footwork was combined, especially in Lola's solos, with high-kicking ballet battements. Even worse, the dancers were not permitted simply to dance. Instead, they were trying—without much success—to act out stories, with plots long on atmosphere but short on development. "When do they start the Spanish dancing?" one observer huffed. Something was being lost in translation. Dance as the universal language? No comprendemos, the audience seemed to say.
Not until the penultimate dance on the program, a fierce solea performed by Carmela, did the evening come alive. One of the oldest traditions of the cante grande (deep song), the solea is a dance of mystery. With her bata de cola—the long ruffled dress characteristic of flamenco—trailing behind, Carmela sinuously coiled her way about the stage. Accompanying her, Jesus Heredia, in the heroic style of all flamenco singers, unleashed a torrent of passionate verse as guitarists José Cortes and José de Salinas kept pace. Employing footwork ranging from subtle taps of the toe and heel to full stamps of the sole, Carmela contrasted tense silences with starting outburst of staccato steps. This was the genuine, heartfelt dance of Spain, at last. Shouts of "¡Ole!" rang from the audience.
Carmela is still young for a flamenco artist and has yet to learn that delicacy is as important as sheer power. But her appearance was the high point of the evening. She showed us the "my life is at stake" commitment that lies at the very soul of Spanish dance.
Elemental Forces
Continuing her solea's traditional vein, a jaleo concluded the evening. Those who have visited a flamenco club in Spain know what this is like. A team of dancers and musicians take turns building up a continuous wave of sound, combining footwork, Palmas (rhythmic hand-clapping), and vocal and instrumental music.
For a while, the elemental forces Carmela had conjured up continued to escalate. Greco himself appeared briefly, but authoritatively, and Greco II executed several leaps to the knee with impressive bravado. But this jaleo (like the solea, it is
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