By the time she is presented, at the end of a dynamic two-hour-no-interval show, with her 2020 Olivier Award for Outstanding Achievement in Dance, undeliverable three years ago for obvious reasons, the queen, if not diva, of flamenco, Sara Baras, has already proved, to a packed auditorium, why she is worthy of it.
Baras transcends traditional flamenco techniques, and you can only do that if you have them firmly in your DNA. She did it in 2019 with Sombras (her last visit here); she does it tonight with Alma, from her soul. Rereading my 2019 review, I can’t imagine how she could top that. With existentialism, I see, music underpinning the drama of the soul, its emotions, fiery and chilled.
Her hands plait the air, her flexible body curves and twists, her tight fists punctuate, and her feet are Gatling guns or pneumatic drills. On an amplified floor, their reverberations are intimidating—one wouldn't like to challenge this intense woman. Complex beats seem beyond human capacity—how does she do it, slow and sensual I get, but fast and furious…
Palmas and musical tempi help, but her feet, her heels, are to be reckoned with. She is the conductor, and the physical embodiment of the music, the lyrics. One might call Alma physical theatre. She gives good theatre. Her rapport, her eye contact, is direct, she want us to share in her passion and love for the dance.
Lighting (Chiqui Ruiz) and simple scenography (Peroni, Garriets)—a curtain of silver threads, on to which a lighting show of red, blue, yellow, is projected—colour the mood and provide mystique. Sometimes, she is in front of that cabaret curtain, sometimes behind, a mirage in the dark.
The backing songs are full of longing. They make me think of the Portuguese saudade. The seven-strong band, on stage the whole time, sometimes at the side, sometimes centre, is, of course, part of the whole.
But, it is her show, her night, her mastery, her experience of thirty years, and I miss her when she is off stage. Her troupe of five females and one male dancer fill in for her, the females are her clones, be it in the same dresses, in shawls, or in male suits, gender free.
She partners women; she partners men. She partners both instrumentalists and singers, pulling them out to the fore in true flamenco style. One minute it's a professional theatre production, the next it is a free-for-all in a nightclub, bar or square. It’s all about percussion. Life’s beating heart. Or its therapy, a release, an exorcism of emotion.
Again, I do wish my Spanish were better. Words matter, but thankfully the text of the voice in the dark is translated in the programme. “I am the soul that dances chainless, I am the moon’s insatiable dream, I am a witness in life’s shadow…” It is a tortured expression of lost love and yearning. Lorca inspired?
The best number of eleven listed pieces is her lengthy dance with saxophonist Diego Vilegas (he also plays flute and harmonica). A duet, a call and response, are they improvising, I wonder. Jazzy sax, that cry from the soul… but if it is choreographed, it is brilliantly done.
At the end—it seems she can’t leave the stage, on and on she goes, with endless false endings—each member of the company gets to perform a signature solo. I love to see the musicians in gawky, individualistic dance. See, anyone can do it… as if… but we could try. The house lights are up and the audience is standing in vocal jubilation. She plays us well. She loves London. She looks happy. What a workout…
This dramatic opening evening of the Flamenco Festival, running at Sadler’s Wells since 2004, has turned into a fine fiesta with a contemporary inclusive vibe. A brilliant start to ten days of some twelve shows shared between the main house and the studio.