April 12, 2011
I am no dance aficionado, and really couldn’t hold up my score cards or call ‘Sev-en’ with any authority if asked to assess the technical quality of the performances by any of the dancers in Vincent Simone and Flavia Cacace’s production. But I do know how the speed and rapidity of a flicking heel leaves me aghast, that a graceful spin on a pin sized stiletto heel point, with not the merest hint of a wobble, leaves me awestruck, and how two people dancing together, fitting so perfectly, matching and complimenting one another’s moves so naturally and fluidly, can enthral and move me. If I feel like that about watching what I only know to be a couple of very good dancers - imagine how the assembled masses of Strictly Come Dancing fans and Flavia and Vincent followers must have felt, seeing their heroes on stage.
The set design takes us to an Argentine bar, sometime in the early twentieth century, complete with throat-tightening piped-in cigarette smoke atmosphere. The ageing, portly bar owner and his diminutive, dowdy wife appear and perform a silent double act, introducing a welcome element of farce to the show, which endures throughout. The musicians arrive and take up place and then the dancers begin to fill the stage, dressed in period costume, with stylised frills, flounces and features, introduced as much out of necessity as to create an impression – I imagine that without the inclusion of a knee to hip split in one’s pencil skirt, it would be tricky to elevate one’s foot above one’s head :) As the first strains of the violin sing out, joined by the other traditional instruments of a Tango band – piano, bass and bandoneon (the accordion-like instrument that produces the most familiar sounds in Tango music) - the scene is complete and the dancing begins.
Perhaps I value synchronisation and form a little too much, but I did find the opening scenes somewhat shambolic and cluttered. But then I know nothing of choreography and put this down more to there being just too much to concentrate on. I wanted to watch all the couples dancing, to see their individual characters, understand each of their stories and wonder at each of their abilities, but my focus was drawn in too many directions. The comic antics of the elderly couple were an amusing distraction, but a distraction nonetheless. But then it was clear that it is the core story and the interaction between the central characters, danced so expertly, that is intended to - and does - attract the most attention. The duet routines - particularly the more balletic dances in Act Two - were showcase performances for the leading lights. The gravity-defying angled leans and poised holds are as eyebrow-raisingly impressive as the light footwork. Tango, to my limited knowledge, is a dance in which the skill of the finest of the male performers is augmented by his appreciation of and ability to dance all the moves – both his own and his partner's. Perhaps it is this great respect and depth of collusion that translates into such a spellbinding performance.
Midnight Tango is the well-worn tale of the fight between our handsome, dashing, albeit tiny hero and the smouldering, swarthy, but surprisingly nimble villain, for the love of the beautiful, perfectly coiffed (no matter the intensity of the hair flicking and swishing), alluring leading lady. Performed with emotion and skill, the Tango is perhaps the most appropriate form of dance with which to tell the story; whilst that story was told well, I was never overwhelmed by the group routines, apart from perhaps the creatively choreographed ‘fight’ scene and the final fiesta. However, I attribute some of the pleasure derived from the closing scenes to the inclusion of just a bit more costume bling. There had to be sequins at some point!
Credit is due to the band and singers, but also to the originators of such an iconic, emotive sound, which moves the story along almost as much as the dance, taking the audience through lament, nostalgia, energy, celebration and - ultimately - love. I think it fair to say that Flavia and Vincent steal the show – but the result is a thoroughly entertaining, fun spectacle – with not a hint of faux-flesh-coloured Lycra in sight!
The set design takes us to an Argentine bar, sometime in the early twentieth century, complete with throat-tightening piped-in cigarette smoke atmosphere. The ageing, portly bar owner and his diminutive, dowdy wife appear and perform a silent double act, introducing a welcome element of farce to the show, which endures throughout. The musicians arrive and take up place and then the dancers begin to fill the stage, dressed in period costume, with stylised frills, flounces and features, introduced as much out of necessity as to create an impression – I imagine that without the inclusion of a knee to hip split in one’s pencil skirt, it would be tricky to elevate one’s foot above one’s head :) As the first strains of the violin sing out, joined by the other traditional instruments of a Tango band – piano, bass and bandoneon (the accordion-like instrument that produces the most familiar sounds in Tango music) - the scene is complete and the dancing begins.
Perhaps I value synchronisation and form a little too much, but I did find the opening scenes somewhat shambolic and cluttered. But then I know nothing of choreography and put this down more to there being just too much to concentrate on. I wanted to watch all the couples dancing, to see their individual characters, understand each of their stories and wonder at each of their abilities, but my focus was drawn in too many directions. The comic antics of the elderly couple were an amusing distraction, but a distraction nonetheless. But then it was clear that it is the core story and the interaction between the central characters, danced so expertly, that is intended to - and does - attract the most attention. The duet routines - particularly the more balletic dances in Act Two - were showcase performances for the leading lights. The gravity-defying angled leans and poised holds are as eyebrow-raisingly impressive as the light footwork. Tango, to my limited knowledge, is a dance in which the skill of the finest of the male performers is augmented by his appreciation of and ability to dance all the moves – both his own and his partner's. Perhaps it is this great respect and depth of collusion that translates into such a spellbinding performance.
Midnight Tango is the well-worn tale of the fight between our handsome, dashing, albeit tiny hero and the smouldering, swarthy, but surprisingly nimble villain, for the love of the beautiful, perfectly coiffed (no matter the intensity of the hair flicking and swishing), alluring leading lady. Performed with emotion and skill, the Tango is perhaps the most appropriate form of dance with which to tell the story; whilst that story was told well, I was never overwhelmed by the group routines, apart from perhaps the creatively choreographed ‘fight’ scene and the final fiesta. However, I attribute some of the pleasure derived from the closing scenes to the inclusion of just a bit more costume bling. There had to be sequins at some point!
Credit is due to the band and singers, but also to the originators of such an iconic, emotive sound, which moves the story along almost as much as the dance, taking the audience through lament, nostalgia, energy, celebration and - ultimately - love. I think it fair to say that Flavia and Vincent steal the show – but the result is a thoroughly entertaining, fun spectacle – with not a hint of faux-flesh-coloured Lycra in sight!