Fictional characters often end up
having one or more parallel lives: Romeo and Juliet's love ends up
well in Lope de Vega's version of the Italian classic which the
Spanish playwright called "Castelvines y Monteses," for example. In
Heiner Muller's "Hamletmachine," Hamlet, the prince of Denmark,
strolls around today's Europe, and in Gianina Braschi's dramatic
novel, "United States of Banana," based on Hamletmachine and
published after the 9-11, Segismuno is taken prisoner, while Figaro
-carried by Mozart's music- has been resurrected several
times...
In our story, variety performers
Carmela and Paulino, say ciao to daddy Sanchis Sinisterra
-playwright and writer of the original work: "Ay Carmela"- and
resume their journey through different scenarios (although the
ending is the same) in this stimulating, amusing and, at times,
touching musical version of Ay Carmela, written by José Luis García
Sánchez and directed by Andrés Lima. Both have surveyed, extracted
and adapted the original work drawing on the almost poisonous,
comedy-like elements (female dancers, popular music and Spanish
folk singing) from the original play written by Sinisterra.
The confrontation with the void or
empty space which Sinisterra envisaged in this case is backed by a
chorus and counterpointed by a solitary mistress of ceremonies, a
sort of Joel Grey who turns into a vivacious Spanish replica of the
soldier Galy Gay when Paulino and Carmela start dancing. Lima and
García Sánchez mutate into a medium-sized show the intimate
meta-theatrical elements (comedy & tragedy) of the playwright
from Valencia, without distorting the work's core.
Ay, Carmela!
Based on the original work by
Sanchis Sinisterra.
Version: José Luis García
Sánchez.
Cast: Inma Cuesta, Javier
Gutiérrez, Marta Ribera, Javier Navares, Álvaro Morte, Pablo Raya,
Javier Enguix and Sagra Mielgo. Choreography: Teresa Nieto.
Light & audiovisuals: Valentín
Álvarez. Scenography & wardrobe: Beatriz San Juan. Music: Joan
Valent. Directed by Andrés Lima. Teatro Reina Victoria.
The abridgement of the text, or its
distribution amongst a diversity of voices, suits this musical
version of "Ay, Carmela," brilliantly decorated by the dreamy
scenography of Beatriz San Juan and livened up by the popular songs
that have been added as well as the occasional one expressly
composed for the show. These in addition to the impressive
documentary images screened at relevant moments throughout: It is
often painful to watch Spaniards escaping from the sea of flames
caused by the German bombardments.
Inma Cuesta, in her role as
Carmela, slim, charming and delightful thanks to her genuine
Andalusia accent, has a pretty, melodic voice and is served new
songs by Pedro Guerra, Victor Manuel and Vanesa Martín. These suit
her better than "Yo te diré," although I prefer her performance in
"Café de chinitas" and "Yo reparto besos," where her magic comes
out. Javier Gutiérrez makes a wonderful couple with her. Their
chemistry and talent shine in the many scenes in which they appear
alone.
But the driving force of the
musical is Marta Ribera, an actress who can sing anything, play any
role, dance as much as she wants and dazzles the audience. "Who is
that bomb?" the public asked at the end of the show. Well, the
answer is that she is someone who has performed great feats but
never appears on the boob tube (TV).
Marvelously directed and performed;
the harmonious duel between the Republican and the Fascist factions
excels as does the brilliant metaphors of the inequalities (in the
numbers & strength) of the battling troops and the whole final
part of a show with some imbalances but which leaves the public
with a good taste in their mouth.
JAVIER VALLEJO.