Drive up from the border this evening, with Tere and a companion from her opera class, Marta, to see the Ballet Folklórico de México appearing in the concert hall of the California Center for the Arts, a fantastic complex of theaters and galleries which sits in the heart of the north county city of Escondido, twenty-something miles north of downtown San Diego.
I am still house-sitting in San Diego -- until tomorrow, at least -- it's been two weeks -- I left Tijuana before the terror attacks in New York and Washington. Except for last Saturday night, I haven't been back to Tijuana, and I am eager to get home to my apartment across the street from the city park, just over there, on the northwest frontier of Mexico. This in spite of all the terrible news and new difficulty in living on the border. Day after tomorrow, at the latest, I'll be home again.
Meanwhile, tonight I went down to the Otay gate to pick up Tere and her friend -- they have walked across, instead of driving. The wait for pedestrians at the Otay gate is not too bad. But I understand that at the main port, San Ysidro, what used to be a few minutes in line is now hour or hours. Remember when came back at three a.m. last Sunday morning?
Things are pretty bad among the hundreds of thousands who daily cross over the line. They wait for hours and hours to get across... but that's another story. Today, tonight, I write about something beautiful and noble -- God knows we need the graces of the spirit these days more than ever... what a blessing to be able to attend this show!
First a word about the concert hall itself. A gorgeous building, sporting a subtle yet elegant design of embracing arches and columns and patios, all mellow stone and comfortable seats within. The polished floors of the lobby reflect a soft glow from hundreds of elegant lamps whose design seems inspired by the craftsman and utilitarian movements of the early 20th century.
Your usual theater crowd filters in, well dressed and casual (California mix of style), and we wander past the coffee bar (where an espresso will set you back $3.25, and a small (rather ordinary drip) coffee is $1.50. A brace of inviting tables nestles in the windowed corner. The restrooms are downstairs -- seeming a bit hidden -- but there are plenty of helpful ushers to guide you.
As John Haynes, President of the Center says, in front of the curtain before the dance program begins, "celebrating the joy of life through the arts heals the spirit." He also announces that the dance company of the late Amalia Hernández -- one of the finest artistic groups in Mexico -- wishes to dedicate this performance to the victims and their families, to the police and firefighters who fell, and... and may we all observe a moment a silence before this performance begins....
It's a poignant moment. We three have just listened to President Bush's speech to Congress, on the car radio in our drive up Interstate 15. Now the beautiful concert hall, filled with men, women and children, falls silent....
"Thank you," Mr. Haynes says, and then, "God bless America."
"Dios bendiga America." -- Tina Ostrem, the Center's director of community affairs, has translated all his words into Spanish. As might be expected, both because this is California, and because of the nature of the performance tonight, the concert hall is filled with a binational and bicultural crowd.
And the dance begins....
Los Mayas -- a dance portraying the glory of ancient Mexico, with bold angular movements whose evocative gestures remind this writer of ancient wall carvings I saw in Palenque and the Museum of Archeology in Mexico City. Radiant costumes enhance the sensation of something truly ancient and splendid. Yet, also the dance features a movement of a corps of women clothed in more modern garments woven in the Maya style, reminding us these peoples are not dead, they live on, in their pueblos and ranchos of the mountains and forests....
Sones Antiguos de Michoacan -- according to the program, this medley of dances was "the first folkloric ballet composed by Amalia Hernandez." I begin by looking at it with particular interest, hoping to discover something of the evolution of Hernandez' style. But the charm and grace of the dancing soon makes me forget such critical pretense. I can only smile and enjoy the sequence of dances, first several "rattles" showing prehispanic influence, and then a series of "jarabes" -- according to the program: "a style which has developed in different regions of Mexico with rapid steps full of gaiety and optimism." Y asi es -- and so it is.
One dance takes place before a gigantic tree, as the corps, waving handkerchiefs, swirls and bows in a great circle, reminiscent of something rather cosmic in scope, yet radiating an everyday love of life and dance -- truly a gem.
Tixtla -- the crowd loves, in particular, "the Iguana" where first, in a pas de deux, the man throws himself to the ground and executes a series of crawling and arching movements. Then the entire corps takes up the movements, with an execution and effect both charming and curious.
Tamaulipas -- noted as being the U.S. premiere (and so I assume one of the latest works choreographed by the Hernandez company), this series of dances moves from dancing based on the harvesting of sugar cane (danced by men with machetes) to a vaquero (cowboy) theme, including one splendid sequence with truly superb rope-tricks -- although "tricks" is really not the right word for such mastery carried out in the context of excellent dancing. This is another of the many crowd-pleasing moments tonight.
Revolution -- a sequence takes us from a dance of the aristocrats making fun of the people, to a dance of the people themselves, and then a line of "Adelitas" -- women soldiers of the revolution -- marching and moving with their guns.
Tlacotalpan -- A set of Verucruz (Jarocho) dances, beginning with women in enormous, flowing white gowns, who give way to a full-throttle fiesta, where "Mojigangas" -- gigantic puppets -- dance out onto the stage and into the audience, all to the vibrant, emotional strains of Carribean music.
After the intermission, Concheros opens the second act with a depiction of ancient dance rituals still carried out by peoples today, especially to honor the Virgen of Guadelupe at her ancient holy site of Tepeyac. This piece shows us the prehispanic origins of many dances and musical traditions in Mexico, as well as reminding us that dance and music are universal phenomena, developed throughout the world. One of the particular riches of Mexico is its fusion of diverse styles and development of many different traditions. But I digress....
Carnival in Tlaxcala -- here we observe the charming and often humorous traditions from Tlaxcala -- with its mixing of European and native motifs, as well as the power of dance to tell a story. A young couple is broken up by a "notorious seducer" who will eventually be taken away to hell -- in Mexican dance, even devils can be charming -- until the young couple is reunited. Throughout the sequence, a pair of clowns lead the storyline onward, and a puppet theater echoes the movements of the dancers.
Danza del Venado -- Dance of the Deer -- your writer has seen several versions of this famous dance, originated by the Yaqui people of Sonora as a propitiating ritual performed before a deer hunt. When it is well-danced, the Danza del Venado is marvelous. When it is danced especially well, it is a religious experience. When it is danced like the Hernandez company dances it tonight, there simply are no words which can do justice to its transcendental power. I don't think I shall ever forget the eloquent quiver of fear given off by the deer as he senses the hunters coming for him... and the dancers... God have mercy they are superb. But... I hesitate to say... but I think the deer dies with just one kick too many. I hear a few laughs behind me, right at the end, and am reminded of too many bad movie death scenes. *Sigh* An unfortunate distraction at the end of a magnificent dance. I'm not sure whether it's me, or some other fool in the audience, or whether some slight adjustment of the dance might make the death less... (shudder) comic.
Or... maybe the Yaqui want it to be just a little ironic? If anyone out there knows, please write me at thomas@masinternet.zzn.com
Jalisco -- tonight's performance closes with a spectacular series of dances and music in the style that most foreigners associate as being the most Mexican of Mexican styles -- mariachi. Tere, sitting beside me, loves mariachi, and begins to sing along, especially on her favorite song -- el son de la negra. The set of dances -- and the entire concert -- comes to a climax with the Jarabe Tapatio -- which we gringos know as the Mexican Hat Dance. The flying, pounding dancers delight us by casting streamers again and again into the audience, and finally bring us to our feet clapping and cheering.
And then they award us with an encore -- one last dance -- before leaving us to file out into the night and back to the troubled world.
God bless America and Viva Mexico!
