Ricardo i Elena

Company Companyia Carles Santos
Venue King's Theatre
Address 2 Leven Street
Reviewer Ksenija Horvat

In his note to Ricardo i Elena Carles Santos remarks:

'Ricardo and Elena were the names of my parents. Ricardo and Elena is the title of this work. You might think that this is an autobiographical work because of this title or, at least, that it relates to my family sphere. But this is not the case.'

He also says that the piece does not have a proper plot. It is, instead, a pastiche of memory fragments from his childhood, brought to us by means of powerful images and music.

Now, this might sound off-putting to you and Santos' name certainly provokes mixed feelings amongst many opera connoisseurs. There are those who admire his work, and those who deplore it, and there are also those who admit in all earnestness that they do not understand it. However, there is no one who can claim indifference upon being exposed to it. Santos' musical genius is indisputable, as is his striking sense of theatricality that makes his every work an extraordinary experience.

Carles Santos has been exploring the boundaries of music, theatre, dance, lighting and costume design since 1980s, in collaboration with a number of gifted artists such as Ana Criado, Samantha Lee and Mariaelena Roqué. He founded the Companyia Carles Santos in order to combine a classical music heritage with, what he calls 'a militant activism in the vanguard of contemporary multidisciplinary and multimedia performance'. In his view, it is only possible to truly interpret one's own music by creating a total language that will appeal to all senses. He has always been notorious for refusing recordings, rendering in this way pictures of his productions almost unobtainable. In his opinion, his work is designed exclusively to be experienced live.

With Ricardo i Elena, Santos lives up to his reputation. Each musical score is a celebration of the author's creativity, accompanied by bizarre imagery, which draws on his Catholic heritage, and starkly dramatic lighting by Samantha Lee. The piece is brought to life by accomplished singers. Mariona Castelar Garriga's rich contralto echoes authoritatively across the stage, Claudia Schneder's mezzo soprano swings between suppressed longing and overt sexual aggression, while Antoni Comas creates an intriguingly pensive Ricardo. The performative side of the piece is equally breathtaking: the set scuttles across the stage, the crucifix lowered from the ceiling smashes the piano, acrobats fly across the stage on a trapeze. In a scene followed by spontaneous applause, Ana Criado's dance on a piano turns into orgiastic frenzy, emphasizing the orgasmic, liberating nature of music.

This is Carles Santos at his best, as well as his weirdest. It will definitely leave some labouring for meaning, and others flying away in disgust. The best explanation perhaps comes from Santos himself:

'It is a work about myself, done with caution, with energy, with humour, with serenity and after having assumed everything.'

Restless, frenzied, poised, serene. Extraordinary.

© Ksenija Horvat 22 August 2001