Jesus Rubio Gamo

Ahora que no somos demasiado viejos todavía

Jesús Rubio Gamo

Deeply dramatic and emotional, Jesús Rubio Gamo’s solo is an intimate yet grand voyage through time. Ryuichi Sakamoto’s poignant, soul-stirring piano melodies echo harmoniously with Gamo’s hyper-sensitive movement. Classical poses turn into tilts and lyrical, Limón-like flow and everything synergises so that this one person incarnates an entire cosmos of nostalgia, melancholy and bravery for the future. Gamo’s choreography teeters between seemingly spontaneous, music-led improvisation and a well-shaped, highly expressive style marked by swingy, repetitive circular motion, gentle twists of the torso, and a breath-taking momentum. Yet for all the virtuosity this dance is substantially personal and self-reflective – like a page torn out of a diary. It comes to a tearful end, leaving me to wonder if I was included in his esoteric catharsis – and if the outcome would be the same had different, less sentimental music been used.

Fotis Iliopoulos

Caught in a parabola of light, the bald, barefoot man in stylish black sweats exudes imperious urgency. This simultaneously magnetic and off-putting sensualist and conjuror occupies territory both public and private. A series of gestures betoken a gamut of states from invitation to irritation. He sucks teeth, swings arms, mouths words sotto voce or expels a scream. In a paroxysm of indecision he shakes his blurred head side to side. Despite the odd quick pirouette, stretch or revolving stagger, Jesús Rubio Gamo’s performance is less about choreography than a search for therapeutic catharsis on the part of a being frustrated by his inability to communicate. Mixing ecstasy, flamboyant pain and affectation, it’s a kind of dying swan act of self-display. But I can only stomach so much stymied, hyper-articulate anguish especially when accompanied by Ryuichi Sakamoto’s manipulative music (tremulous, cascading, begging for sympathy). No surprise that it ends in tears.

Donald Hutera