Before Forever

Thursday, June 11, 1998

Before Forever

DANCE: Luis Bravo explains the history and inspiration behind
"Forever Tango"

By Cheryl Klein

Daily Bruin Senior Staff

The Broadway-savvy may think they know tango. After all,
"Chicago" takes time out from jazz for the darkly humorous "Cell
Block Tango." "Rent" laments love’s fickleness in "Tango: Maureen."
"Kiss of the Spider Woman" evokes the hazy pain of a South American
prison in "Morphine Tango."

But, says king tango man Luis Bravo, "I come from the emotions.
That’s what you don’t see in all these big musicals. You replace
any of the artists and you don’t notice it. They are so
impersonal."

The Argentinean musician’s creation, "Forever Tango," has been
running for a year on Broadway, but it is a far cry from plot-heavy
theatrical fare. With 14 dancers, an on-stage orchestra of 11 and a
single vocalist, the show is, in Bravo’s words, "an illustrated
concert."

Now the ponytailed director stalks Royce’s back rooms with a
slow, purposeful gait. In a dark suit and cowboy boots, he paces
and ponders the venue where "Forever Tango" will open in two weeks.
He has already ventured into the empty theater, which he has not
seen since the remodeling. A few claps of his hands tested the
acoustics. "Beautiful," he concludes.

The concert hall, newly streamlined but still alluring in its
ancient-ness, can perhaps revel in his complement. Bravo does
indeed come from the emotions and he sings the importance of
history in an ever-evolving art. In a deep voice he speaks
earnestly of the hundred-some years of national turmoil that
compose the fabric of tango.

"Our history changes in cycles every 30 years," Bravo says. "All
this makes an Argentinean not know what the future is going to be
… It makes the Argentinean a fatalistic person, a very dramatic
person. Everything is a tragedy."

The sultry musical form and its corresponding choreography began
in the brothels of 19th century Buenos Aires. Lonely men, often
recent immigrants who had left families in Italy and other parts of
Europe, blended styles with slaves from the Caribbean and members
of the surrounding countryside.

Bravo himself was born in one such sparsely populated, soil-poor
villages on the outskirts and moved to the capital at age eight,
where he was struck by the gravity of the local men.

"I remember all the Italian men were very machista – sitting in
the doorways and along the sidewalk in the afternoon. They were so
mad and so serious," Bravo recalls.

And while it is this prevailing melancholy which dominates tango
culture, Bravo couldn’t help but chuckle at the melodrama of their
angst.

"They were characters, like cartoon characters," he says. "What
I tried to do (in "Forever Tango") is make fun of myself. It’s very
difficult to do a comic tango."

Audiences’ presumptions about the art form may play a part in
this. Say "tango" and a long-legged couple, eyes locked as they
slink seductively across the stage, comes to mind. Yet Bravo
insists tango is more about sensuality than sexuality, curbed
internal desires rather than frothing passion.

"It has a certain charge of sexuality, like any art, but it’s
not sexual," Bravo says. Nevertheless, "It was forbidden. It was
considered lascivious because the place where it was happening was
the brothels."

An equally common misconception is that tango is strictly a
style of dance. The original steps were in fact performed by men
imitating sword fights with a backdrop of that distinctive
backwards-forwards rhythm.

"Unfortunately, and without any intention, the previous
production that the world saw some years ago, ‘Tango Argentina,’
gave the impression that tango was just a dance," Bravo says.
"Tango’s a culture. And that culture has a music of expression. The
dancing came as an interpretation of the music."

Bravo begins his own expression, drumming on the back of the
couch to demonstrate Argentina’s first tango inclinations. He then
begins to tap a boot steadily on the carpet and gently sway his
silver-streaked head to demonstrate the addition of slave beats and
Spanish flamenco.

He is mesmerizing in a quiet way and it is easy to believe in
the internal intensity he attributes to his fellow Argentineans. It
is also gratifying to see such rich traditions in such undeniably
capable hands.

Bravo carefully auditions all his dancers with an eye on
chemistry and emotional expression. As for musicians, he draws from
the entire pool of Argentinean tango artists and knows exactly who
he wants.

"It’s not a small group, but I know everybody," he says
matter-of-factly. "Not that many people can play the music the way
it’s written, the way I want it to sound."

Those who can, however, have been rewarded with international
acclaim. The 1996 Spoleto Festival in Italy awarded "Forever Tango"
its coveted Simpatia prize, and the show received a Tony nomination
in the United States. Surprisingly, one of the few countries yet to
experience the piece is Argentina, though Bravo is working to set
up a tour date.

And would his fellow countrymen like what they saw? It might be
hard to tell if they operated off the cultural traits Bravo says
are reflected in tango.

"Always the rhythm is there, but it’s not there. It’s like the
Argentineans. They always speak in a subliminal way."

But such an intimate knowledge of his art form and its history
suggest that they would – however subliminally – demand a big
encore from Bravo.

THEATER: "Forever Tango" runs from June 30 to July 12 in Royce
Hall. Call (310) 825-2101 for information and tickets. (Right)
Creator and director Luis Bravo talks about "Forever Tango."
(Bottom) Cecelia Saia and Guillermo Merlo perform in "Forever
Tango."

Photo courtesy of Marty Sohl