Mercedes Ruiz, no dejes de bailarme
The bailaora from Jerez achieved unforgettable success in Seville with her show “Déjame que te baile” (“Let me dance for you”)
By Luis M. Pérez. Seville, March 22, 2018 (Photos by Paco Lobato)
Impressive, in one word, and also in two. That’s the adjective used to define great occasions, and the hyperbolic word that comes to mind after leaving the theater, dancing. “Don’t write anything now. Wait until tomorrow, when you’re more focused. After all, it’s just flamenco”. As if it were so easy to tell apart this genre these days.
“Déjame que te baile” is not a new show. Mercedes Ruiz and Santiago Lara already premiered it in London, over two years ago, a few days before performing it at the Festival de Jerez in 2016. Thus, it has many hours of flight, of hard work and practice, although it came to Seville fresh, very fresh, like a child knocking on your door with a basket of fruits. It’s hard to believe that nowadays it’s a wonder being able to attend a show of flamenco, as it seems like one word is no longer enough, and now it must always be joined with another term: flamenco something; something flamenco…
Mercedes Ruiz, born in Jerez de la Frontera in 1980, wanted to dance, and she danced. She danced like she knows better: refined, elegant, classic and upright, mostly, and mischievous and amusing when required. This time she dispensed with conceptual baile, drama, and contemporary dance, where she possesses extensive experience and knowledge, drawing upon her power and her flawless skill to carry out one of the best performances we’ve ever seen of her.
She stuck to the basic cantes, with the sole exception being the opening act por milonga and garrotín, by the beautiful voice of David Lagos (born in Jerez in 1973), which woke up the public, preparing the spectators for what was to come. A double ration of traditional flamenco was served by David Carpio (born in Jerez in 1975), por seguiriyas and martinetes, the latter face-to-face with the public, when Mercedes, in a masculine and colorful short outfit, got her feet in the sixth gear, evoking Carmen Amaya with her hardened face.
Cante was center-stage and never played second-fiddle to baile, it was rather the other way around. Lagos once again delighted us with a couple of pregones: the pregón del frutero, popularized by Manuel Vallejo, and the pregón de los caramelos de Macandé. Back to Cádiz, Santiago Lara’s guitar called the bailaora, por bulerías, and she obliged, spreading art and flavour all over the theater with her perfect turns in her bata de cola. Rounded arm movements, delightfully slow, endless, looking up to the balconies at Palma street.
After the flamboyant round of fandangos, with got to the mother of all baile: the soleá. Watch out, all are from Jerez, but looks like they’ll give it a try: David Carpio, the Gypsy from La Plazuela with a piercing voice, escaped for a second to the nearby Castilla street, returning with Triana’s soleares alfareras, those of Antonio el Arenero, to be precise. Mercedes Ruiz, with a long black-and-gold dress, drew upon the whole range of her strongest baile. Her toned arms infatuated, he eyes bewitched. Her feet disappeared.
We got to the fiesta, but this bailaora from Jerez was brave, picking bulerías romanceadas from Utrera. It smelled like traditional Gypsy baile by the old flamencas from Nueva street. David Lagos then sang the Cádiz styles, including the zambra “Calcelero, carcelero”, and Carpio took over the guitar from Lara, so he could do his little dance, and maybe here it got a bit long, with so many pataítas. Yet, the public was enthralled and cheered all the way until the very last clap. I can assure you that if Mercedes didn’t put a stop of to that last standing ovation, we would be still there, clapping
Event notes:
Show: Déjame que te baile, Compañía Mercedes Ruiz
Series: Flamenco viene del Sur
Place and date: Teatro Central de Sevilla. 20/3/2018
Baile: Mercedes Ruiz
Cante: David Lagos y David Carpio
Guitar: Santiago Lara
Percussion: Perico Navarro
Palmas: Javier Peña y Faé Ramos