Review: Rayuela: Compañía Marco Flores, Sadler’s Wells East ★★★★

Manuel Flores invites you to let yourself go

Flamenco is built on three essential pillars: cante (song), toque (guitar), and baile (dance), each a distinct art form in its own right yet incomplete without the others. Rayuela, the closing show of Sadler’s Wells’ annual Flamenco Festival, puts that relationship to the test. The elements shift and separate across the evening: sometimes one alone, sometimes two, sometimes all three.

Those looking to find a narrative, perhaps suggested by the link to Julio Cortázar’s landmark novel Rayuela (the Spanish word for hopscotch), will not find one. Speaking to Artburst Miami, choreographer and dancer Marco Flores was direct: let yourself go, don’t try to understand anything. He explains that the show is neither narrative nor descriptive, and what matters is the impression it leaves on each person.

My daughter and I took that instruction in good faith but were not always sure we quite managed it. We found ourselves, at times, feeling like outsiders looking in. There was no story here, no clear emotional arc to follow. So you have to stop looking for one and simply watch. There was though a great deal to watch.

Flores is a fluid and charming performer, and there is real wit in his choreography. His arms hold the traditional soft, curved braceo and he is generally upright, but he moves freely into something more contemporary when the moment calls for it – often using the floor. He seems noticeably freer with his hands when he is not using castanets. There is a game of literal hopscotch at one point, and a playfulness to the movement, full of little figures and immense speed of feet. Most beautifully, he opens by almost catching his own movement and repeating it in a series of echoes. That motif returns quietly at the end, and it is the closest the show comes to a through-line. It landed.

The most gripping passage of the evening is a duelling sequence between Flores and singer Alfredo Tejada. There is power and pain in his voice, and a vibrato that seems to pull his fellow performers into its orbit. The sense of genuine battle between voice and dance was thrilling. I wondered, though, whether guitarist José Tomás, whose cyclical building patterns and chords suggest a journey of their own, could have done more to build momentum from the audience at that specific point. It felt like an opportunity that remained slightly sealed off.

Visually, the production works in big blocks of colour, a theme mirrored in the costuming. Flores begins simply, then is in plain black with a scarf, moves through a vibrant suit, and arrives by the end in something loud, floral and spotty. The lighting is always monochromatic but constantly varied, throwing intersecting circles, squares and shadows across the stage, carving distinct moods between scenes. At times, Flores uses the light almost as a cage – escaping and surrendering to shapes it has created.

By the final minutes the auditorium had been won over completely. Olés rang out. Flores applauded us back, and his genuine warmth toward both his companions and the audience alike made for an extremely appealing finish. We left very satisfied, if not entirely sure we had understood what we had witnessed. Perhaps that was always the point.

[Thank you to Sadler’s Wells who provided gifted tickets in exchange for an honest review. Co-reviewed with my daughter.]

Photo credit: Javier Fergo