Stormy Plain
Ilisa Rosal has been on a roll. The founder, artistic director, and choreographer of Ballet Flamenco La Rosa has choreographed a major work each year since 2006 and has taken on such weighty sources as Flaubert’s novel Herodias (Herodías, 2006) and Arthur Miller’s play, The Crucible (Las Brujas de Salem, 2007). This year the Miami Dance Festival opened with the premiere of Rosal’s latest literary adaptation: Rey Lear.
Rosal chose wisely: Shakespeare’s tale of a king with three daughters, who disowns the one who truly loves him only to be betrayed by her scheming sisters, is a powerful vehicle for flamenco’s passion. Seated at the back of the stage throughout the performance, cantaor and classical guitarist Paco Fonta conveys the despair of Lear’s faithful daughter Cordelia and the agony of her father in a stirring an original score. The ensemble of six dancers portray this family struggle over power and land through a series of tangos, jaleos, and bulerías as they face off and force each other to cede the floor with expansive arms, sudden turns, and explosive heel tattoos.
In the title role, the tall, broad-chested Jose Junco dominates the stage. His technical execution is flawless, yet his performance is more admirable than convincing. In the first half of the play there is too much lightness in his bearing, too much lyricism and beauty in his hand gestures, to capture the king’s arrogance and blindness. In the second act, he achieves more gravitas as he drags his feet and circles the stage on his heels to represent Lear’s descent into madness, then falls to the ground and drags himself along the floor, his brocade tunic rent with grief. Yet there remains in his portrayal more of the elegant dancer than the deranged ruler.
Likewise, Carolina Catalán dances well as the faithful Cordelia, yet there is no sense in her lovely poses of the stifling decorum that keeps her from making a show of her love for her father and leads to her banishment.
The choreography as a whole is neatly conceived as a showcase of specific flamenco dances matched to the mood of the moment, but this careful correspondence does not quite capture the soul-rending issues at the heart of Lear: the disintegration of filial love and the essential frailty of man.
The most effective moments come from the supporting dancers. In the bulerías that closes the first act, the perfectly matched Gonerill (Jessica Pacheco) and Regan (Virginia Moreno) stake out their territory in what feels as feral and intense as a dogfight. That intensity builds every moment that Lear’s friend Kent (Gabriel Arango) holds the spotlight. Arango may not outshine his peers in technical proficiency, yet he has a gift for character that comes not from his hands or his heels, but seemingly from the core of his being. His presence is mesmerizing, whether he is simply buttoning a shirt as he dons a disguise or restraining his own grief in a solemn solea danced in shadows.
Rosal chose wisely: Shakespeare’s tale of a king with three daughters, who disowns the one who truly loves him only to be betrayed by her scheming sisters, is a powerful vehicle for flamenco’s passion. Seated at the back of the stage throughout the performance, cantaor and classical guitarist Paco Fonta conveys the despair of Lear’s faithful daughter Cordelia and the agony of her father in a stirring an original score. The ensemble of six dancers portray this family struggle over power and land through a series of tangos, jaleos, and bulerías as they face off and force each other to cede the floor with expansive arms, sudden turns, and explosive heel tattoos.
In the title role, the tall, broad-chested Jose Junco dominates the stage. His technical execution is flawless, yet his performance is more admirable than convincing. In the first half of the play there is too much lightness in his bearing, too much lyricism and beauty in his hand gestures, to capture the king’s arrogance and blindness. In the second act, he achieves more gravitas as he drags his feet and circles the stage on his heels to represent Lear’s descent into madness, then falls to the ground and drags himself along the floor, his brocade tunic rent with grief. Yet there remains in his portrayal more of the elegant dancer than the deranged ruler.
Likewise, Carolina Catalán dances well as the faithful Cordelia, yet there is no sense in her lovely poses of the stifling decorum that keeps her from making a show of her love for her father and leads to her banishment.
The choreography as a whole is neatly conceived as a showcase of specific flamenco dances matched to the mood of the moment, but this careful correspondence does not quite capture the soul-rending issues at the heart of Lear: the disintegration of filial love and the essential frailty of man.
The most effective moments come from the supporting dancers. In the bulerías that closes the first act, the perfectly matched Gonerill (Jessica Pacheco) and Regan (Virginia Moreno) stake out their territory in what feels as feral and intense as a dogfight. That intensity builds every moment that Lear’s friend Kent (Gabriel Arango) holds the spotlight. Arango may not outshine his peers in technical proficiency, yet he has a gift for character that comes not from his hands or his heels, but seemingly from the core of his being. His presence is mesmerizing, whether he is simply buttoning a shirt as he dons a disguise or restraining his own grief in a solemn solea danced in shadows.