Tangolitry

Post by Grubb.

The band takes its place on the stage in the corner of the Belle Epoque restaurant. Par can lights angled above dark red curtains pick out the white haired band leader ready to pounce on the keys of his grand piano. Upstage next to the piano, a tall thin man prepares to pluck his bass. Sitting on a stool to the side of him, a young guy gently squeezes his accordion. Bookending this quartet a slender woman stands posed with her viola.

We’ve just finished a fancy dinner at our elegant table settings. Ella’s having the house Malbec, and I’m downing bottles agua con gas. We’re seated between a young couple from Montana and a slightly older couple with an unidentifiable Eastern European accent. Three-fourths of the other tables are taken up with either visitors whose tour guides have dropped them off, or people who have slipped in to see the show.

The music begins. Three different video screens positioned below the ceiling around the room come to life showing silent movie clips of early 20th century tango dances. Charlie Chaplin slips and flounders. Laurel and Hardy perform a serious step. Then the main screen above the stage behind the musicians introduces the first tangoes we’ll be seeing, the early versions of the dance created by the immigrants who came to Buenos Aires towards the end of the 19th century and developed a style that was prevalent until around 1910.

The first couple enter along the long mahogany bar and pop up on stage. They are young and dressed in white giving us the impression of slightly innocent beginnings. The dance is loose-limbed, energetic, yet still rigid enough to be formal. The woman is short with an electric intensity; her strapping partner is taller and has a powerful assurance. They’re really good.

We segue from this dance to having two more couples appear on stage. They’re dressed in turn-of-the-century Belle Epoque outfits featuring wide-brimmed hats. The dancers are older, the women taller, the men more grizzled. The choreography has them spinning and dipping between each other to the spirited music. It’s a marvel how effortless the precise dance steps take place on such a small stage.

Then an old guy in a suit strolls on stage like a superannuated Frank Sinatra and starts crooning love songs. He’s followed by a younger woman in a tight glittery dress whose cabaret-style songs are more operatic. They’re both accomplished performers, but they leave us eager for more dancing.

And that we get as the evolution of tango proceeds through the 1930s where we get film clips with sound followed by dancing that becomes more complicated in its entwining movements. Lower legs whip around with such a velocity it makes it look like the dancers are double-jointed. When we saw flamenco dancers in Seville I wondered how many ankle injuries occurred; last night I speculated about knee operations.

I had always categorized tango dancing as being a fiercely contained set of steps. But this performance shattered my preconceptions. By the time we got to the exuberant 40s and 50s the dancers were swinging, flinging, and twirling, tight and free, in and out, like tango rock and roll. Whereas in the 1930s rhythms the dancers had time to enact standoff scenarios, now there was no pausing for mad-dogging. The short dynamic woman and her masterful male partner went all out. I was on the edge of my seat watching them. They ended the evening with a sexy noir number that was wildly acrobatic.

It was eleven at night. I thought I would have nodded out by ten, but I was atingle with tango. Now if I could just get rid of this arthritis…

PS. The photographer apologizes for the paucity and quality of the photos. It was dark, the movement was often frenetic, and she was too enthralled with the show to make an effort with the photos.