Reflexiones sobre las Parcas by Paula Comitre, Florencia Oz and Carmen Angulo
Matancera by Rosario la Tremendita
Lilian Baylis Studio, Sadler’s Wells, London
May 31, 2025
The last day of May brought a flamenco double-header to Sadler’s Wells’ Lilian Baylis Studio, first up being Reflexiones sobre las Parcas, a work-in-progress by dancers Paula Comitre, Florencia Oz and Carmen Angulo. It turned out to be a beautiful triad of lithe intertwining female bodies
Black box studio theatre. Black walls. Black floor. A snake of bright white tangled rope lying on the floor, waiting for action…push-pull? Tug of war?
There ensued what I thought was a bold 30 seconds ‘holding the audience in suspense’ blackout followed by lights up on the black-clad silent fateful three sisters slowly threading the rope between them in silence…
It was, in fact, a technical hitch, and the sound technician announcing that the show would restart shortly. Yet, I’d rather enjoyed the ‘silent film’ contemplative start.
While the sound hitch was being sorted, and the audience waited in respectful patient silence, I did a sneaky online search on las Parcas. In Greek mythology, the ingenue youngest Springtime Sister (Comitre), spins the thread at the beginning of every human life. The Middle Sister (Oz) measures and allocates the life-span, before the Winter Sister (Angulo) cuts the thread at the end of life.
The show restarts with recorded audio of ominous sombre cello and strident violin. Are we in Hades? The slow-motion opening is repeated as The Three Sisters share the ‘threading of the rope’ in a complex cat’s cradle triumvirate. How many different ways can three supple females contort themselves around a rope?
Once free, expressive contemporary dance and physical theatre coalesce seamlessly with flamenco arms, wrists, body curls and pin-sharp footwork to the rhythm of seguirillas. It’s a rare occasion to be able to enjoy the combination of these different dance forms and physical performance styles.
A recurring pattern is of two dancers synchronising with each other, as the third acts solo, the combinations varying. A delightful carousel of sinuous flamenco arms emerges, danced to a playful colombianas recording sung by a ‘naked’ sola accapello female flamenco singer’s voice (Rocio Luna). It’s utterly mesmerising.
Then a moment of loose freedom for all three dancers to a thumping heartbeat before its back to black jondo slow motion, out of which emerges a bulerias solo by the Winter Sister accompanied by her younger Spring Sister’s sharp clapping of palmas claras.
Fresh formations have each sister taking her turn at the front before ceding swiftly and graciously to the next. No competition here, rather a generous and celebratory sharing of the space and the focus.
Just as we think the forty-minute piece is concluding with a reiteration of the initial ‘threesome threading of the rope’, the action is embellished with the three dancers’ light sweet singing voices harmonising and intertwining, just as their dancing did, in a most unexpected and tender lullaby.
Devised through improvisation, like-minded experimentation and sharing of choreographic ideas, I found it all utterly engrossing and compelling. The floridly poetic programme notes told us that the piece would “unveil the hidden narrative of the soul.” While I did not feel or witness that (nor did the prosaic cynic in me expect to), I did find the fluidity and variety within the piece very engaging. The flamenco was sure-footed, powerful and graceful, and the spirit of generous collaboration was evident.
Reflexiones sobre las Parcas nestled perfectly in the intimate proportions of the Lilian Baylis Studio, helped by simple but effective lighting. Rarely have I enjoyed a contemporary/flamenco dance fusion this much. I can only hope that, as the piece evolves, it will not lose its sensitive essence, its fresh playfulness and its beating heart.
Bravisimo guapas!
Photo Mauri Buhigas
Later the same evening Rosario la Tremendita (Rosario the Tremendous, aka Rosario Guerrero) presented Matancera. The title refers to the ceremonial slaughter of a pig that brings a Spanish community together to share a sense plenty and to celebrate with drink, song and dance.
Given Guerrero’s stage name and the title of the show, one might have been expecting a bit of a battle-axe. Certainly, her half-shaved head and chunky leather jacket seen previously had a fierce, punk look to it. Yet, here she sported a gentler look. As she sat strumming her electric bass guitar and singing along in flamenco puro style, she reminded me of a teenage girl in her bedroom. Or perhaps at home during Covid-enforced quarantine, concocting original riffs on traditional flamenco song.
Who knew that said electric bass and a rocker’s drumkit (played with versatility and ingenuity by Rosario’s fellow musician David Suárez) were a rich and appropriate accompaniment to flamenco song? I certainly didn’t, but, following this, I am a convert. There was something about the ‘masculine’ quality of that musical backing that married very well with Rosario’s relatively light true voice.
Usually, a flamenco performer will focus on just one of the elements that make up a cuadro flamenco (flamenco picture): the dance, the guitar playing, the clapping or the singing, or more recently, the cajon percussion box. Seldom does a serious flamenco ‘multi-task.’ However, when La Tremendita is strumming either her electric bass guitar or her ‘un-plugged’ flamenco guitar, the relative simplicity of her playing gives her singing voice a springboard to fly from and soar.
Simple yet effective staging by Verónica Morales saw Rosario move from her chair to join her fellow musician on a low podium where he sat behind his broad selection of percussion instruments. She sang to him with tender heart-breaking longing, with rage, and with him while sharing the playing of a drum. She also at times sat at the foot of the podium, before then returning to her seat, picking up a flamenco guitar and giving us another song.
A highlight for me and the rest of the audience was Rosario’s rendition of a traditional song (‘a Tangos de Granada,’ I believe) as she stood centre stage, arms as wide as her heart, guitar-free, connecting directly to the audience, her singing a cry for understanding and compassion. Raw and supported by delicate percussion, it stirred the audience and prompted cries of ‘olé’ and ‘eso e,’ a low-key ‘así se canta’ (‘that’s how you sing flamenco’) from yours truly.
It was an unusual set-up. At its best, this marriage of musical genres gave La Tremendita’s performance the power of a flamenco Janis Joplin, but often the sound of her singing, even when at full throttle was swallowed up by the full-throttle rock-band guitar and percussion, and the ‘rock concert’ over-amplification of the drumming. The amplification of Rosario’s voice had a bit too much reverb too.
It may have been short, but it was a densely rich and juicy performance, one that flourished within the flamenco-friendly intimacy of the Lilian Baylis studio. I was more than happy to have witnessed it.
Only a couple of hours ago I had been chatting to a London-based flamenco dance student who was surprised that women sang flamenco too. I only wish this student had got tickets to see and hear La Tremendita, they would certainly have learnt a thing or two about the new wave of female flamenco cante!