When you think about it, it really shouldn’t work.
A “little tango opera” written in a Spanish dialect that is hard to understand even for Spanish speakers. Poetry (seen in occasional projected translations) with surreal metaphors too far flung to mesh with American sensibilities. Brilliantly evocative tango music danced with only a passing reference to the tradition, which is rooted in the sensuous and complex relationship between male and female sexuality.
But I left Maria de Buenos Aires – presented Thursday night in a collaboration between Danceworks, Milwaukee Opera Theatre and the Milwaukee Chamber Orchestra – moved and even a bit shaken.
Which isn’t surprising, because “thinking” isn’t necessarily the right way to consider or understand the tango. It’s a dance steeped in visceral sexuality, that is in turn charged with the elemental – birth, death, sex, passion, cruelty. That was all there in Maria, even if you couldn’t necessarily analyze or diagram it.
It’s in the story – told via the poetry of Horacio Ferrer: A poor girl comes to Buenos Aires and is seduced to a live of prostitution by the sound of the tango. She dies, her shadow continuing to stalk the city, and her spirit is impregnated by a goblin and she gives birth to herself. It’s sung beautifully by Nathan Wesselowski, clear and expressive, and (a last-minute replacement) Catalina Cuervo, a deep, sensuous alto that embodied the tango spirit perfectly (the musical direction is by Milwaukee Opera Theatre’s Jill Anna Ponasik).
It’s in the music, played by 11 musicians from the Milwaukee Chamber Orchestra under Richard Hynson. Astor Piazzolla’s brand of Nuevo Tango is propulsive and sensuous, and Hynson’s ensemble was alive in rhythm and texture. Stas Venglevski’s Bandoneon is the heart of the music, but Piazzolla’s orchestration gives it great substance as well. Sasha Mandl’s violin solos soar over the rhythms, and occasionally, a unison string chorale cuts through the earthiness like a chorus of angels.
And it’s in the choreography, by Simone Ferro and Dani Kuepper. There’s only a hint of tango here, but instead the dancers evoke the attitude, spirit, and rituals of both the culture and the story. Bodies emerge and retreat like beings moving between the earth and the underworld. At times, each dancer in the ensemble goes his or her own way, dancing or posing independently, evoking the energy and chaos of urban life. At other times, a phrase is repeated again and again with a larger and larger group, capturing the dynamism of the music. And sometimes, the stage becomes the site of a solemn ritual, a feeling that is perfectly in tune with the performance space, the soaring, open sanctuary of the Calvary Presbyterian Church.
Ultimately, Maria is something indescribable, something – as the artists behind the performance say in a program note – to “immerse yourself” in, or become surrounded and seduced by. That certainly was my experience, and if you come with open eyes and ears, I think it will be yours, too.
