ABSTRACT: The term “tango” was employed as synonymous with “habanera” in the Spanish light musical theater long before it was adopted as its own by Argentinian culture. In the late 19th century, when Argentine tango allegedly was born in the streets as an expression of the national popular spirit, the light musical theater scene of Buenos Aires and Montevideo was dominated by foreign theater companies. Spanish plays provided the models for the characters and plots of the newly-born local teatro criollo. It is on the stage that a dance with corte y quebrada, in the beginning not even called tango, was first spoken of—in the new local dialect, the lunfardo—and then performed on the stage as part of comedies by Argentinian playwrights. Imitative of analogous dances and social settings in the Spanish plays, tango became the emblematic dance of the criollo inhabitants of Buenos Aires and Montevideo. This suggests that tango was really born in the theater as a representation of a romanticized life in lower-class tenement houses, the conventillos.
The emergence of Argentine tango coincided—as we noted in our preceding article—with the development of the record disc player. Before the invention of music recording devices, theaters, cafés, and other concert venues were the among the few places where poeple could listen to music, unless they did not perform it at home. The theater, in particular, was the place where the greatest variety of musical entertainment was offered. The relevance of the theater for the dissimination of music is testified by the fact that theater artists were the first ones to be issued on records—because of their notoriety and the popularity of their repertory. The Victor Talking Machine Company even advertised their merchandise under the heading of “The Theater at Home”.
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From an advertisement of The Victor Talking Machine Company, 1905
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The role of the theater in the development and dissemination of the musical repertorio criollo should not be underestimated. It was on stage that Argentinian music and dance were presented as varieties of a national popular art. Correspondingly, the beginnings of Argentine tango music can be linked directly to the appearance of tango dances on the theater stage. The development of tango criollo is inextricably connected with the teatro criollo, a form of theater created by playwrights and actors during the last decade of the 19th century. In these plays, set in the lowly quarters of Buenos Aires and Montevideo, tango evolved as the emblematic social dance of the urban lower classes.
I. Popular Music in Buenos Aires
Throughout the 19th century the theater scene of Buenos Aires was dominated by foreign theater companies, Spanish troupes in particular. Spanish plays were very well known and enjoyed great popularity, and it stands to reason that Argentine playwrights and musicians were well acquainted with the Spanish music theater. In an article on Argentinian popular music published in 1912, the journalist Goyo Cuello remembered the enormous success that the songs of some Spanish plays had enjoyed during the last decade of the 19th century in Buenos Aires. They became so popular, he reported, that they “took root in the soul of the Argentinian people” who “considered them their own”:
The Spanish zarzuelas have greatly contributed to popularize many songs that the [Argentine] people made their own...
The success of La Paloma was also one of those that made history; but the one of La Gran Vía surpassed all of them, back in the year of 89. The music of Chueca asserted itself from the beginning, and the Jota of the Ratas, the Habanera of the Menegilda, and the Waltz of the Graceful Gentleman were sung all the time. The duet of From Madrid to Paris also had the fortune to become popular. Later, it was the turn of the couplets of Viva mi niña!, which gave [Rogelio] Juárez the possibility to flaunt his sense comedy. The tango from Certamen nacional [El Tango del café] was one of those that obtained popular favor from the first moment, just as the Quintet of the Wines of the same work. The tango of Toros de punta [¡Zangá!, ¡Zangá!], where [Elisa] Pocoví sang “Mommy, dearest, I want to marry a torero” was one of those that were repeated to exhaustion. But the unsurpassed success as regards popular songs belongs to La Verbena de la Paloma. All the music of this work asserted itself form the first moment, with the barrel organs seeing to it that it spread throughout the entire republic.
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Elisa Pocoví singing “¡Zangá, zangá!”
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It is surprising that so many of the songs that Cuello remembered were tangos. One has to differentiate the denotation of the word, however, since it was not a clearly defined term. The Habanera de la Menegilda mentioned by Cuello, for example, was commonly referred to as the Tango de la Menegilda. In the printed piano score, however, it is called an “Americana”.
Musical numbers labeled as tangos or habaneras abound in Spanish zarzuelas from the late 19th century. They share stylistic traits to such a degree that it is impossible to differentiate them in any meaningful way. Therefore we must conclude that, essentially, “tango” and “habanera” mean the same thing in Spanish music theater: a vocal composition with the habanera rhythm as an accompaniment, with cross rhythms appearing in the melody, and a formal division into two sections that commonly—but not always—contrasts two tonal keys.
The same stylistic traits were also common features of the early tango criollo. (See, for example, Saborido's well-known La Morocha.) This makes it often impossible to argue convincingly in favor of either stylistic acculturation or innovation in Argentinian pieces.
The same stylistic traits were also common features of the early tango criollo. (See, for example, Saborido's well-known La Morocha.) This makes it often impossible to argue convincingly in favor of either stylistic acculturation or innovation in Argentinian pieces.
Two aspects began to emerge, however, that differentiated the tango criollo from its Spanish counterpart: tangos criolloswere predominantly instrumental pieces (lyrics could be added later) and consisted commonly of three instead of two sections.
The differentiation of musical style between the emerging tango criollo and Spanish habanera-like pieces is beyond the scope of this article and will be discussed later. Let it suffice to note that the above quote by Coello is evidence of the enormous popularity of Spanish music in Argentina, which makes a compelling case for stylistic influences on the early tango criollo.
II. La Gran Vía: The Great Model
More than just providing musical examples, Spanish theater influenced Argentinian tango also in a very different way. It provided the model for the social environment in which tango was presented in the plays of criollo playwrights and theater companies.
Groundbreaking for the new-born teatro criollo was the above mentioned La Gran Vía, a musical revue by Felipe Pérez y González with music by Federico Chueca and Joaquín Valverde. It premiered in 1886 in Madrid and within in few years had been staged across Europe, the Americas, and Japan.
La Gran Vía followed the 19th century trend in theater plots that shifted from depicting the upper classes to stories of ordinary or even emarginated people. Many plays took on the local color of a particular place and its people, that is, they played in certain geographic settings. They exploited the exoticism and aesthetic qualities of typical costumes and music, and featured representative characters. Local dialects and jargon typical of certain social classes were also prominently employed and, in fact, were often highlighted in the score and libretto in cursive print.
La Gran Vía is a revue showcasing the metropolitan city of Madrid. Like many revues, it does not have a continuous plot, that is, a coherent sequence of action. Rather, a series of characters, presented on stage by a moderator, “pass review” and introduce the high points of the play, the musical numbers. La Gran Vía is a piece true to its genre as it offers light musical entertainment without making higher artistic demands. However, at the same time it is also a parody of the operetta. Roles that in traditional theater appeared as comic relief are the main protagonists in this revue.
The three most celebrated musical numbers of La Gran Vía—duly mentioned above by Cuello—illustrate the point. In the Vals del Caballero de Gracia, an old-fashioned gentleman dressed in tails flatters himself as being the most refined dancer, spoiled by Madrid's society, and pursued by girls wanting him to tickle their fancy—while the choir comments that he is nothing but a fool, a dunce and braggart. The Tango de la Menegilda is the song of the housemaid who serves no one but herself, because she had realized early on that she could get ahead in life only by pilfering and shortchanging her employers. The Jota de los Ratas presents three thieves and pickpockets who take as much pride in their profession just as any hard-working craftsman.
The three most celebrated musical numbers of La Gran Vía—duly mentioned above by Cuello—illustrate the point. In the Vals del Caballero de Gracia, an old-fashioned gentleman dressed in tails flatters himself as being the most refined dancer, spoiled by Madrid's society, and pursued by girls wanting him to tickle their fancy—while the choir comments that he is nothing but a fool, a dunce and braggart. The Tango de la Menegilda is the song of the housemaid who serves no one but herself, because she had realized early on that she could get ahead in life only by pilfering and shortchanging her employers. The Jota de los Ratas presents three thieves and pickpockets who take as much pride in their profession just as any hard-working craftsman.
In Spanish zarzuelas as well as in the teatro criollo, dances were commonly used to provide color to a particular scenery. However, dances were not just picturesque entertainment, they also had an emblematic function in the identification of a particular local setting and the characters involved. In the teatro criollo, for example, gauchos danced the zamba or malambo, Italians the tarantella, and Spaniards the jota. As tango appeared on the Argentinian stage, it became the emblematic dance of the urban domains of Buenos Aires and Montevideo in general, and the lower-class inhabitants of the conventillo, in particular. Interestingly, La Gran Vía already contained a model for a dance representative of a city (Madrid) and a particular section of its population.
The Schottisch del Elíseo Madrileño depicts a public dance establishment in Madrid. The name “Elíseo madrileño” refers to the “Campos Elíseos madrileños”, an amusement park, known for its concerts and public dances, that had existed in Madrid until 1880. The “Schottisch” (chótis in modern Spanish spelling) was a very popular ballroom dance during the 19th century in Europe and the Americas including Argentina. It is still played and danced today in various folk music traditions. It reached Spain in the 1850s and in Madrid it developed into a distinct local variety that became the quintessential dance of the city. The text of the Schottisch del Elíseo Madrileño, refers to the “chulesco schottisch al estilo de Madrid”, by “chulesco” implying that it was the danced by “chulos” and “chulas”, the emblematic lower-class inhabitants of Madrid.
In the play, the Elíseo—sung by a woman—appears in person and describes with irony the events taking place at the establishment. She relates that the attendees, who tussle for admission to the ballroom, are the most select of society, namely: maid servants, cooks, and shop assistants. Their language is super refined and quarrels are unknown, even though a lot of wine is consumed. The dress code is liberal: some youngster come with their shirttails hanging out in the back, some cooks wear their coal-shoveling gloves, and quick turns during a dance may offer unexpected views. They dance the habanera, polka, and waltz without worrying too much about the rhythm. And, after having danced a lot, they go to a restaurant to find someone flush with money whose wallet they can clean out.
The Schottisch del Elíseo Madrileño is, of course, a parody of the upper-class balls featured in traditional operettas.Imitations of upper-class people and customs by members of the lower classes were, in fact, a common plot device of comedy. The humor of the Schottisch del Elíseo Madrileño, however, does not rest in “failed” imitations of upper-class behavior because no one is pretending to be someone else than what they are. The women who frequent the Elíseo—being improperly dressed, drinking large quantities of wine, dancing indecently, and looking for men to take advantage of—show signs of licentiousness, which is a transgression of the boundaries of bourgeois propriety. The comic effect of this behavior rests in the fact that it is committed brazenly and unconcernedly. (This can also be said about the Menegilda or the “tres ratas”, who flaunt their transgressions with equal presumptuousness and audacity.) The Schottisch del Elíseo Madrileño thus brings together members of the popular classes of Madrid (“chulo” and “chula”) and an emblematic dance (the “Schottisch”).
The “chulo” (swaggerer), sometimes called “golfo” (rascal), is the quintessential popular (lower-class) character of Madrid in the late-19th-century zarzuela. His attitude is brash and contentious, he flirts with delinquency, follows a conspicuous dress code and struts with a distinct gait. Some years later, a stage character emerges in the teatro criollo that shows striking similarities: it is the compadrito of Buenos Aires. He is arrogant and provoking; has frequent brushes with the law; wears a slouch hat, neckerchief, and high-heeled military boots; and walks with a swaying gait called “pisahuevos”. And while the chulo danced the Schottisch, what does the compadrito dance? The tango!
III. Echos of La Gran Vía
The international success of La Gran Vía influenced the Buenos Aires theater scene even before the play itself was presented there in 1889. The revue became, on the one hand, a popular format for music theater. On the other, the concept of showcasing the nation's capital in the context of recent events was emulated repeatedly. Even if the theme of a revue was different, characters like the three “ratas” in La Gran Vía became stock figures in the teatro criollo, attesting to the lasting influence of the Spanish zarzuela.
In 1888, De paseo en Buenos Aires by Justo López de Gomara (*1859, Madrid), a Spanish immigrant who had arrived in Buenos Aires in 1880, was staged as the first in a series of revues modeled after La Gran Vía. It is not clear whether the music by Isabel Orejón, an otherwise unknown composer, has survived. A number of personified musical entities appear on stage (the Italian Opera, the French Chanson dancing cancan, a payador who sings a “milonga” and a country woman who dances to it) but tango is not mentioned. However, three pickpockets—here “cuervitos” (crows) instead of “ratas”—sing a song and reappear in various scenes. Befitting to their place of origin, they introduce themselves as “compadritos”:
Somos los cuervitos
unos compadritos
guapos y bonitos
como Uds. ven,
que a nadie envidiamos
y que progresamos
pues siempre tomamos
lo que no nos den.
(We are the little crows, dashing [guapos] and swank compadritos as you can see. We don't envy anyone and get ahead because we simply take what people don't give us.)
The libretto unfortunately does not indicate to what kind of music was set to the song of the “cuervitos”. The similarity to the three “ratas” of La Gran Vía, however, is obvious, and the ratas are to Madrid what the cuervitos are to Buenos Aires.
The term “compadrito” appeared for the first time in an Argentinian dictionary in 1910, referring to a “man of the lesser people, vain, conceited, and arrogant”—the urban counterpart to the rural gaucho. It is the equivalent to the “chulo” or “majo” of the Spanish zarzuela. Likewise, “rata” (from “ratero”, pilferer) is a Spanish term, whereas “cuervo” is Argentinian. Today it is used to refer to lawyers as unscrupulous people. The social environment of “ratas” and “cuervitos” in the plays is also equivalent. Only the vocabulary seems to have been adjusted for the sake of locality. In Gomara's revue there is no explicit connection made between “cuervitos” and tango, but phrases like “unos compadritos guapos y bonitos” will have a familiar ring to anyone familiar with tango lyrics written later on.
IV. Criollo Revues and Sainetes
Shortly before La Gran Vía was launched on its international success, some theaters in Buenos Aires had instituted a business model that had been tried with great success in Madrid. The “theater by sections” or “theater by the hour” presented not just one show, but a number of shorter plays consecutively during the afternoon and evening. This created, on the one hand, a great demand for new plays, as theater directors seem to have been constantly on the look-out for new plays to keep the audience coming back. This demand was met by local playwrights—criollos and gringos—who were able for the first time to present their work, based on national themes, to the general public. Thus the teatro criollo came into existence. Having multiple shows in one theater every night made it possible, on the other hand, to keep ticket prices low. In such manner the teatro criollo became a truly popular theatrical form which provided light entertainment that was affordable for all classes of society.
To draw a line between Spanish theater and the emerging teatro criollo is just as difficult as to pinpoint the beginnings of the tango criollo. La Gran Vía and the first Argentinian revues were all performed by Spanish theater companies and actors, and so were the first criollo sainetes. The names of Spanish actors like Lola Millanes, Elisa Pocoví, Enrique Gil, Abelardo Lastra, and Rogelio Juárez appear in the cast listings of play after play during the first half of the 1890s. The teatro criollo is indebted to these actors not only for staging the first plays by Argentinian playwrights, but also for creating the criollo characters on stage and thus setting a standard for other actors to follow.
IV.1 Ezequiel Soria
In 1892, El año 92, a play by an aspiring young playwright, Ezequiel Soria (*1873, Catamarca) premiered in Buenos Aires. The eminent Argentinian writer and journalist Juan José de Soiza Reilly (*1880, Concordia, Entre Ríos), called the lyrical revue,
“the first Argentinian sainete that set the standard for all sainetes criollos to come... It was the first time that the audience in Buenos Aires—the audience of 1892—applauded a national work with picturesque characters cleverly drawn from the street, the committee, the conventillo, the public stage”.
Historically, Soiza Reilly's claim of El año 92 being the first sainete criollo is not factually correct, as there were others before. On the other hand, it was Soria's first play and the one that launched his very successful career as a playwright and director. Criollo or not, the work was inspired by another Spanish revue, El año pasado por aguas by Chueca and Valverde, which had premiered in 1889. One more Spanish immigrant, Andrés Abad y Anton (* before 1870, ES) composed the music of El año 92, and the staging fell to the Spanish theater company of Mariano Galé.
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Ezequiel Soria
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Within the plot of El año 92, tango is mentioned only in passing. However, as in López de Gomara's revue De paseo en Buenos Aires of 1888 (see above), tango “terminology” appears as part of the colloquial language. Soria wrote a musical scene featuring vendors of four local newpapers (“Los más diablos vendedores, hoy señores aquí están...”, “Gentlemen, the most crafty vendors are here today...”) whose aggressive behavior resembles closely that of the three pilfering “ratas” of La Gran Vía. Following their song, the vendors try to sell their papers to the personified “Year 1892”. Realizing that the Year is new to Buenos Aires, they not only demand an inflated price for their papers, they also relieve him of his cigarettes and matches. In the following excerpt, the vendors get into an argument with a policeman who comes to the aid of the “Year”:
MARIANO (vigilante): (A los vendedores.) Largarse de aquí y no incomodar al señor.
VENDEDOR 1º: Si no lo incomodo.
MARIANO: (Amenazando.) Ea, largarse he dicho, que si no...
VENDEDOR 1º: Porque tiene machete viene á compadrear.
MARIANO: ¿No ven qué inservible?
VENDEDOR 1º: ¡Toma! y date corte con otra parada. (Le tira los diarios.)
VENDEDOR 2º: (Por otro lado.) ¡Eh! que se te cae el sable. (Se vuelve Mariano y el vendedor 2º le tira los diarios.) ¡Toma!
VENDEDOR 3º: A fuera el compadre.
VENDEDOR 4º: Saca el machete. (Todos lo acosan y Mariano los persigue hasta que desaparecen.)
MARIANO (policeman): (To the vendors.) Leave and don't disturb the gentleman.
VENDOR 1: I'm not disturbing him.
MARIANO: (Threatening.) Eh, leave, I said. If not...
VENDOR 1: Because he carries a machete, he comes and puts on airs.
MARIANO: Don't you see it's useless?
VENDOR 1: Take this, and show off with another ploy. (Throws the newspapers at him.)
VENDOR 2: (To the other side.) Hey! Drop the saber. (Mariano turns around and Vendor 2 throws the newspaper at him.) Take this!
VENDOR 3: Away with the braggart!
VENDOR 3: Draw the machete. (They all beset him and Mariano goes after them until they disappear.)
As it was customary in some plays, stage directions were indicated in cursive print (reproduced in the excerpt above) in the libretto. Cursive print also highlights words or phrases in the text to which the actors' attention was called. In the entire scene, five words of the dialogue are emphasized in cursive print; four appear in the excerpt:compadre/compadrear, corte, and parada. Both “parada” and “corte” are terms for dance figures, and the “compadre” is the emblematic character who danced tango. Yet, there is no dancing taking place. (The libretto unfortunately gives no indication to what kind of music the song was set.) What is special about these words? They are emphasized because they belong to the local dialect, lunfardo. This reveals the vendor's regional and social standing: they are representatives of the lower class of Buenos Aires. The choice of words demonstrates the strong bond between between tango and lunfardo. In the theater, both are indicators of class affiliation.
An actual mention of tango occurs later in the play with the appearance of “la tucumana”, a woman from the distant province of Tucumán. The scene is the second instance in the play, where actors speak in the lunfardo dialect. Here it is the Assistant, who hails from Buenos Aires.
ASISTENTE: ... que viene una tucumanita que es una criolla (cerrando el puño) ¡así! ¡y si viera usted con qué corte baila un tango y qué firuletes hace! Esa no es una mistonguería como éstas. (Indicando las mujeres.) Y como se mueve, señor, ... digo cuando baila.
(ASSISTANT: … here comes a tucumanita who is a criolla, (he clinches his fist) like this! And if you could see with what poise [corte] she dances tango and what embellishments [firuletes] she does! This is not wretched as those [Pointing to the women.] And how she moves, sir, … I say, when she dances.)
In this scene, we find lunfardo appears directly in the context of tango. Yet again, no dancing is taking place (except that the Assistant briefly pantomimes a dance step). The audience is just told that “la tucumana” is an enticing and liberal woman who dances tango with exceptional “corte” and “firuletes”. As part of her act, she smokes a criollo cigar (cigarro de chala), passes out cigars to the bystanders, and engages in a conversation with the Assistant. In a dialogue full of sexual innuendos, she tells of her preference for military men and wakeful nights, and eventually, accompanying herself on a guitar, sings a song about the beauty of her homeland Tucumán.
Why “la Tucumana” is introduced as an exceptional tango dancer, or why it matters, is not clear. Again, there is no dance taking place. The association of a seductive woman and tango suggests, rather, that a character from another famous stage work provided the inspiration: Bizet's Carmen. (Carmen sings a habanera [tango], works in a cigar factory, seduces a military man and liberally welcomes the advances of a torero.) Tango in El año 92 is no more than a passing reference: associated—clearly—with Buenos Aires, but not interesting or special enough to make a show of it in the play.
In 1896, a similar passing reference to tango appeared in El sargento Martín , a zarzuela by Soria, with music by an Argentinian composer, Eduardo García Lalanne (*1863, Buenos Aires). It plays in 1866 during the Argentine-Paraguayan war. During a dance organized in the Argentine war camp, a character named Cartucho, hailing from Buenos Aires, would prefer to hear a milonga or tango, but he is told that in the provinces only cuecas, gatos, and chacareras are danced. Cartucho responds:
Amigo, allá en Buenos Aires ¡qué farras! Tango, mazurka y puro corte.
(My friend, down in Buenos Aires, what parties! Tango, mazurka, and pure corte.)
Buenos Aires is again associated with tango and corte, however, without a reference to social class. The remark is meant to illustrate the contrast between country and city. “Tango, mazurka y puro corte” are representative of Buenos Aires as a whole. And, since “corte” is not explicitly associated with “tango” but with “mazurka” as well, it refers to a certain style of dancing rather than to one dance in particular.
One year later, in 1897, the theater company of Enrique Gil staged another play by Soria, Justicia criolla, a “zarzuela cómico-dramática” with music composed by Antonio Reynoso, a Spanish immigrant who made a successful career as a theater composer and orchestra director in Buenos Aires. As it is the case with most plays of the teatro criollo, there exists no modern edition of the music score. This is unfortunate not only because Reynoso deserves more attention as an important theater composer in Buenos Aires, but also because this zarzuela represents a milestone in the history of tango: no longer appearing just as a passing reference, tango plays a role in the unfolding plot.
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Antonio Reynoso
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The leading role of Benito, a black porter at the House of Congress, was the one that its first actor, Enrique Gil, was to become famous for. Soiza Reilly remembered:
Posiblemente Enrique Gil y Rogelio Juárez, fueron los primeros que comprendieron la necesidad de alentar con su ingenio a los autores aborígenes. Lo más admirable en esta actitud de los artistas españoles, era la paciencia, la constancia, el talento que ponían en la interpretación de los papeles criollos. ¡Con qué afán de realismo modelaban su máscara y con qué cariño adoptaban el lenguaje, la entonación, el dejo de los argentinos!... Me parece estar viendo a Enrique Gil—español auténtico—convertido en un negro legítimo del suburbio porteño. Aquel negro famoso—personaje de uno de los primeros sainetes hilarantes de nuestro genial Ezequiel Soria—pasó, en la persona de Enrique Gil, a ser más verdadero que los negros reales.
(Enrique Gil and Rogelio Juárez were possibly the first to understand the need of encouraging native authors with their ingenuity. Most admirable in the attitude of the Spanish artists was the patience, persistence, and talent they put into the interpretation of criollo roles. With how much desire for realism did they shape their masks, with how much loving care did they adopt the language, intonation, and inflection of the Argentines! I can still see Enrique Gil—authentic Spaniard—transformed into an genuine black of the Buenos Aires suburbs. That famous black—a character of the first hilarious sainetes of our brilliant Ezequiel Soria—happened to be in the person of Enrique Gil more authentic than real blacks.)
The play's opening scene shows the court yard of a conventillo where the resident women are about to finish their day's work and look forward to a birthday dance that will be celebrated later.
ESCENA I
Coro de señoras
En cuanto acaben nuestros quehaceres
a prepararnos para bailar,
porque esta noche de sus talleres
nuestros amigos aquí vendrán.
Con baile y vino, canto y guitarra
la noche pronto se pasará;
¡que alegre fiesta! ¡que hermosa farra!
¡que divertidas vamos a estar!
La vihuela su dulzura
lanzará en bordona y prima
y quebrando la cintura
habrá tangos y cuadrillas.
(SCENE I.
Chorus of women.
When we have finished our chores, let us prepare to dance, because tonight our friends will come here from their workshops.
With dance and wine, song and guitar the night will quickly pass. What a happy festivity! What a beautiful party! How joyful we will be!
The vihuela will emit its sweetness on low and high strings, and, bending the waist, there will be tangos and quadrilles.)
In previous plays by Soria, tango had been associated with a certain style or attitude of dancing, the corte. Here we find another term, relating to body posture, that became a correlate attribute of tango: quebrada, a “break”. “Quebrando la cintura” (bending the waist) implies that the common upright body posture is ”broken” and, most likely, the woman executed some kind of dip. Whether the two terms together were used as specific tango attributes for the first time in Justicia criolla is difficult to say but, hereafter, the association of tango with “corte y quebrada” became a commonplace.
In previous plays by Soria, tango had been associated with a certain style or attitude of dancing, the corte. Here we find another term, relating to body posture, that became a correlate attribute of tango: quebrada, a “break”. “Quebrando la cintura” (bending the waist) implies that the common upright body posture is ”broken” and, most likely, the woman executed some kind of dip. Whether the two terms together were used as specific tango attributes for the first time in Justicia criolla is difficult to say but, hereafter, the association of tango with “corte y quebrada” became a commonplace.
Tango is not the only dance supposed to be performed at the festivity. The women are also anticipating to dance quadrilles. Later in the play, when the dance is about to commence, another dance is requested, too: a waltz.
ESCENA XVI
Las gentes del baile y Gregorio, Antonio, Benito y José.
GREGORIO: A ver si se anima esa mozada!
HOMBRE 1º: Un vals.
UNOS: No, no, tangos.
OTROS: ¡Cuadrillas!
BENITO: Un poquito de calma, señores, que todo se bailará. Como buenos criollos, propongo que se abra la sesión con un tango y si la mayoría está por la afirmativa, ya pueden rascar sus cuerdas los guitarristas.
TODOS: ¡El tango, el tango!
BENITO: Qué pronto lo arreglé! Para manejar mayorías tengo muy buena muñeca.
(Tocan y bailan el tango. Después del tango continúa la escena hablada...)
(SCENE XVI. People of the dance and Gregorio, Antonio, Benito and José.
GREGORIO: Let's see if these young folks come alive.
FIRST MAN: A waltz.
SOME: No, no, tangos.
OTHERS: Quadrilles.
BENITO: Gentlemen, a bit of peace! They will all be danced. As good criollos, I suggest we open the session with a tango, and if the majority is in the affirmative, the guitarists may begin to strum the strings of their guitars.
ALL: The tango, the tango!
BENITO: How quickly have I arranged that! I have a good hand for majorities.
[They play and dance the tango. The spoken scene continues after the tango...])
That tango is not the only dance that the inhabitants of the conventillo want to perform should come as no surprise. That they should dance first and foremost tango as “good criollos” is, however, a proclamation by the author. It calls attention to what is going to happen next: an actual performance on stage. The conjunction of dance, place, and social class presented in the play was to become the emblematic setting of tango. Here in Justicia criolla tango was presented on stage for the first time—as a criollo ballroom dance to a theater audience that was just as criollo as the inhabitants of the conventillo.
Before the dancing scene actually takes place, tango with corte y quebrada is mentioned yet another time. For Benito, tango is part of courtship. He relates how he first met his wooed Juanita: at a public dance, he invited her to dance a schottisch. After flirting with her, he then conquered her dancing a tango with a fine corte.
ESCENA IX
BENITO: Oye como á Juana yo la conocí.
Era un domingo de carnaval Era un domingo de carnaval
y al Pasatiempo fuíme a bailar.
Hablé á la Juana para un chotis
y a enamorarla me decidí.
Én sus oídos me lamente
me puse tierno y tanto hablé
que la muchacha se conmovió,
con mil promesas de eterno amor.
Hablé a la mina de mi valor Hablé a la mina de mi valor
y que soy hombre de largo spor;
cuando él estrilo quiera agarrar
vos mi Juanita me has de calmar
Y ella callaba y entonces yo
hice prodigios de ilustración,
luego en un tango, che, me pasé
y á puro corte la conquisté.
(SCENE IX.
BENITO: Listen how I met Juana.
It was a Sunday of carnival and I went dancing to El Pasatiempo. I invited Juana to a Schottisch and decided to win her heart. I lamented in her ears, I became affectionate and talked so much with a thousand promises of eternal love that the girl was moved.
I talked to the woman about my valor and that I am a man of means. When trouble seizes me, my Juana, you have to calm me down. And she turned quiet, and then I drew castles in the sky. Later, during a tango, hey, I went for it and conquered her with pure “corte”.)
Later, when Benito is asked what Juanita is like, he responds by describing and mimicking his dancing tango with her. For Benito, the best moment is when she falls into a quebrada.
ESCENA XIV
GUITARRISTA: Y esa Juanita qué tal es?
BENITO: Así, che! (cerrando el puño) ¡que cosa más rica!... Cuando bailando un tango (hace la pantomima de lo que va hablando), con ella, me la afirmo en la cadera y me dejo ir al compás de la música y yo me hundo en sus ojos negros y ella dobla en mi pecho su cabeza y al dar la vuelta, viene la quebradita... Ay! hermano se me vá, se me vá... el mal humor.
GUITARRISTA: Deseo conocer á esa Juana.
(SCENE XIV
GUITARIST: And this Juanita, how is she?
BENITO: Like this, hey! [clinching his fist] The finest!... When I am dancing a tango with her [he acts a pantomime of the dance], I place her firmly against the hip and I let myself go to the rhythm of the music. And I sink into her black eyes and she inclines her head against my chest, and with the turn comes the quebrada... Oh, brother, it disappears … every ill-humor just disappears.
GUITARIST: I'd like to meet this Juana.)
Tango, which in Soria's earlier plays appeared only as a passing allusion to Buenos Aires, has become an integral part of the plot in Justicia criolla. The dancing scene, announced at the very beginning of the play and actually taking place just before the dramatic finale, is part of the musical high point of this zarzuela. Tango is also the determining factor of the relationship between Benito and Juanita. In no other play before Justicia criolla has the connection between tango, the conventillo, and its inhabitants been made manifest so definitively. It proved to be an enduring model for the Argentinian theater.
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A dance in an actual conventillo
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Soria staged tango in Justicia criolla in three scenic contexts that in one form or another reverberated through the later plays of the teatro criollo:
- As a show dance: The dancing scene and the immediately following song of a payador are the musical highpoint of the zarzuela (Scene XVI). Tango is made a spectacle: a social dance in a lower-class setting, the conventillo.
- As part of male courtship among criollos: In his song, Benito relates how he met and sweet-talked Juanita at a dance event, and then “conquered” her during a tango. (Scene IX)
- As a demonstration: Asked about Juanita, Benito explains how he dances with her and pantomimes the dance moves (Scene XIV).
In the tango literature, the excerpts given above are frequently cited as evidence of tango actually being danced in late-19th-century Buenos Aires. However, Ezequiel Soria, then a nineteen-year-old student turned playwright (see illustration 3 above), hailing from a distant province, is an unlikely expert on conventillo life and dance events. His play must be seen, rather, as evidence of a theatrical tradition. And tango in Justicia criolla is one thing above all others: it is comedy.
In 1897, the tango dancing scene in Justicia criolla was a novelty on the theater stage. For some years to come tango only made occasional appearances. And as if the audience needed to be shown what the dance actually looked like, many tango scenes took the form of a demonstration or lesson. When Benito pantomimes a tango and demonstrates a quebrada move, it is the audience that is being shown what to expect when the actual dance takes places. Needless to say that such a pantomime is an invitation to an actor to show off his comic prowess.
The dance performance in Justicia criolla is not unlike the scene of the Schottisch del Elíseo Madrileño of La Gran Vía. In both cases lower-class people are taking part in an event reminiscent of formalized (upper-class) behavior. Both scenes are parodies: in the Schottisch del Elíseo Madrileño, the parodic aspect is expressed in the text in the description of the dress code and behavior of the participants; in Justicia criolla, it is indicated by the juxtaposition of dances anticipated by the participants, namely, tango, quadrille and waltz.
The waltz was—and even is today—the dance of elegance par excellence, in countless operettas and elsewhere. Similarily, quadrilles were the highpoint of formal balls during the 19th century, as they required the cooperation of all couples on the dance floor. Form and decorum are essential to waltz and quadrille. In a comedy, would the inhabitants of a conventillo turn out to be elegant dancers of waltz? Would they perform the complex choreography of a quadrille without flaw? Hardly.
Good upright posture and graceful demeanor were fundamental precepts of society dances in the 19th century. Tango is the antithesis to that. If one translates “bailar con corte y quebrada” freely as “to dance with attitude and bad posture” the incongruity of dancing tango, on the one hand, and dancing waltz and quadrille, on the other, becomes obvious. For this reason, the inhabitants of the conventillo opt “as good criollos” for tango, the dance befitting the setting. In the Schottisch del Elíseo Madrileño the participants dance habanera, polka, and waltz without paying much attention to the rhythm; in Justicia criolla they dance with corte y quebrada. In both plays a transgression of the boundaries of the proper dancing etiquette is exploited for comedy.
IV.2 Enrique de María
Biographical information on another criollo playwright, Enrique de María (*1869, Montevideo, UR), difficult to come by and only a few of his plays are available. The librettos of three of them, important in the development of tango, seem to have had a wider dissemination and can be found in some libraries.
The earliest of these plays, the revista criolla Á vuelo de pájaro, was first shown in Montevideo in 1895. The music was written by a Spanish immigrant, Antonio Videgain García (*1869, Jerez, ES). Showcasing middle- and lower-class characters, institutions, and products of Montevideo and Uruguay, the revue follows in the footsteps of another Spanish play, Certamen nacional (1888) by Manuel Nieto. (El Tango del café from Certamen Nacional was mentioned by Coello, see above.)
There are only two dance scenes in the play. One features a “pericón nacional”, a criollo (country) dance that was claimed as a national folk dance by both Uruguay and Argentina. (It is generally agreed, however, that this dance was invented in the theater by the Podestá brothers.) The pericón is performed as a highpoint at the end of the revue, just before the national anthem is sung as the grand finale. The other scene follows the model of the “3 ratas” of La Gran Vía. It presents lower-class people, a compadrito (Nene) and his companion (Mondonguito), who speak the local dialect and display a brash and arrogant behavior.
De María takes the scenario and characters to new extremes. The dialogue is saturated with lunfardo expressions. Lunfardo is an “invention” contemporaneous to the teatro criollo. The local dialect that developed in the metropolitan cities of the Río de la Plata as the result of immigration caught the attention of intellectuals—playwrights included—during the last decade of the 19th century. In 1895, it must have been a novelty in the theater since the audience is told what it is:
VIAJERO: (á Justiniano) ¿En qué lenguaje hablan estos?
JUSTINIANO: Esa es la lengua Lunfarda!
VIAJERO: No conozco.
JUSTINIANO: Es un dialecto, que estila la gente baja.
(TRAVELER: What language are they speaking? JUSTINIANO: That's the lunfardo language. TRAVELER: I am not familiar with that one. JUSTINIANO: It is a dialect that is common among the low people.)
Part of the fascination of the language lay in the fact that it was often incomprehensible. For instance, the closing verses of Nene and Mondonguito's song (see below)
¡Semos mancos, nos pisó la bisicleta,
y el mataperros nos vá á encanar!
[We are maimed, we were crushed by a bicycle, and the dogcatcher will lock us up!]
do not make sense. They are just an odd expression that is remembered because of its oddity.
Striking is, furthermore, the emphasis on dancing and the characterization of the dancers. The scene features—besides the two presenters of the revue, the Traveler and Justiniano—a couple of “lowly characters” of Montevideo: “El Nene” (“The Kid”), the compadrito, and “La Mondonguito” (“Little Chitterlings”), his female companion. In their song, Nene and Mondonguito present themselves as party-loving dancers without equal:
NENE: Soy un compadre muy afamado,
Me llamo El Nene por mi valor!
Soy de Palermo el cabecilla,
Soy de sus farras el diretor!
MONDONGUITO: Yo soy Manuela La Mondonguito,
Soy una china de calidá!
Llevo cuchillo puesto en la liga
Y á comadrona no tengo igual!
VIAJERO: (¡Jesús que gente tan depravada!)
JUSTINIANO: (al viajero); ¡Tenga prudencia, por caridad!
Que si se enfada este Nenito,
Vamos derechos al hospital!
NENE Á bailar con quebradura no hay quien el poncho me pise,
Que en Palermo y en la Olada no hay como yo bailarines!
MONDONGUITO: Pa ensillar un mate amargo, tiene fama Mondonguito
Y á bailar con firuletes, soy pareja con mi chino!
(Bailan)
NENE ¡Quiebra, quiebra, vieja mía, la cadera!
Sin quebraduras no sé bailar!
VIAJERO: (á Justiniano) ¡Compañero, enseguida un dibujante,
Que este retrato quiero llevar!
MONDONGUITO: ¡Semos mancos, nos pisó la bisicleta,
y el mataperros nos vá á encanar!
JUSTINIANO: (á viajero) (Le prometo, en el hotel, cuando usted quiera,
un buen retrato del natural!)
NENE: Á bailar con quebraduras, etc.
MONDONGUITO,
NENE: Semos mancos nos pisó, etc. (á duo)
(NENE: I am a renowned compadre, I am called 'The Kid' because of my courage! I am the ringleader of Palermo and the master of its parties.
MONDONGUITO: I am Manuela, 'The Chitterlings', I am a quality girl. I carry a knife in the garter, and as a comadrona I have no equal.
TRAVELER: [Jesus, what depraved people!]
JUSTINIANO: [to the Traveler] Be careful, for the love of God! If this little Kid gets angry we go straight to the hospital!
NENE: Dancing with quebradura, there is no one who can challenge me. There are no dancers like me in Palermo and La Olada.
MONDONGUITO: 'Chitterlings' is famous for fixing bitter mate, and for dancing with firuletes, I am the partner of my boy.
[They dance.]
NENE: Bend, mama, bend the hip! I don't know how to dance without quebraduras.
TRAVELER: [to Justiniano] Comrade, a draftsman, quickly! This portrait I want to take with me.
MONDONGUITO: We are maimed, we were run over by a bicycle, and the dogcatcher will lock us up!
JUSTINIANO: [to the Traveler] At the hotel, I promise you, whenever you like, a good natural portrait.
NENE: Dancing with quebradura, etc.
MONDONGUITO, NENE: We are one-armed, etc.)
Nene claims that there are no dancers that measure up to him, and Mondonguito asserts to be the complement of her partner. But what are they dancing? The text does not mention any particular dance at all—neither tango, nor mazurka, nothing. Only the list of characters and scenes in the front matter of the libretto indicates that a “milonga” is danced. This does not refer, however, to any specific dance: the milonga as a ballroom dance (that is, danced by couples with a distinct musical rhythm and step patterns) did not emerge until the 1930s. In 1895, the “milonga” was, on the one hand, a form of poetry sung with the accompaniment of a guitar and, on the other, it was used as a generic term referring to music associated with compadritos like Nene and Mondonguito.
While disregarding any particular type of dance, the text makes it abundantly clear how Nene and Mondonguito are dancing: with quebradura (quebrada) and firulete. In fact, the whole point of the scene is to show off their particular style. The couple is making such a spectacle of themselves that the Traveler asks for a draftsman because he wants to keep an image of their performance. No one, Nene asserts, dances with quebradura as he does, but he cuts a ridiculous figure in the process: his style of dancing, bailar con quebraduras, is but a parody.
In comparison to the characters of the other plays we examined, Nene and Mondonguito are compadrito and comadrona of a very different kind. Their relationship is characterized by violence and exploitation. When they enter the stage, they are in the midst of an argument in which Nene demands money from Mondonguito, which she refuses. In a testy dialogue, he threatens to beat her. When the Traveler comes to her aid, Mondonguito dismisses him:
MONDONGUITO: Más me pega, más le quiero;
Y no lo puedo negar,
Que á mi me gustan los hombres
Que la saben refilar!
(MONDONGUITO: The more the beats me, the more I love him. And I can't deny that I like men who know how to hand it out.)
Nene eventually does lay a hand on Mondonguito and gets his money. Still, Mondonguito maintains that it is his right to do so because he needs the money. The onlookers conclude:
VIAJERO: ¡Qué tipos tan repugnantes!
JUSTINIANO: El compadrito y su dama;
La mujer es quien mantiene,
Es gente muy haragana,
Ignorante, vagabunda!
(TRAVELER: Such disgusting scum! JUSTINIANO: The compadrito and his lady. The woman is the provider. They are good-for-nothing people, ignorant, worthless!)
To modern viewers, this kind of humor may seem in poor taste, notwithstanding the disapproving comments by the Traveler and Justiniano, but it is important to remembered that this is theater. Nene and Mondonguito are the model for another set of stock characters of tango mythology (often passed for the historical, real-life origins of tango): the prostitute with “the dagger in the garter” and the exploiting and abusive compadrito pimp. Violence, exploitation, and tango: a thematic triad that became a recurrent topic in tango lyrics, foreshadowed here—as a comedy act!
Whether Á vuelo de pájaro was successful when it was given in Montevideo is impossible to say since the play has not caught the attention of theater historians. It never seems to have been shown in Buenos Aires, for three years later, in 1898, another revue premiered in that city in which De María reused the dancing scene in an elaborated form. The “street revue” Ensalada criolla, with music by the Argentinian composer Eduardo García Lalanne, represents a milestone in the history of the teatro criollo since it was De María's first collaboration with an Argentinian theater troupe: the company of the Podestá brothers (led at the time by José Podestá, [*1858, Montevideo, UR] ). The Podestás started their career as circus artists. After introducing pantomimes of gaucho stories into their circus shows, they moved to the theater stage, first presenting criollo plays with gaucho plots (teatro gauchesco), then gaining great popularity by staging plays with the urban plots of the teatro criollo.
Just as in Á vuelo de pájaro, tango is not mentioned at all in the play. However, “bailar con corte y quebrada” takes a much more prominent place, suggesting that the concept was a familiar one to theatergoers. At the beginning of the revue, the audience is told that the main actor (played by José Podestá when the revue was first shown) has fallen ill and that the show will be suspended. A spectator from the audience asks what kind of roles Podestá was supposed to play. When he is told that they are important criollo roles the spectator (enacted by José Podestá himself) offers to perform them. The author agrees to it and he ascends to the stage, saying
ESPECTADOR: ¡Gracias á Dios, que he tenido ocasión de probar mi talento artístico
¿Papeles criollos?... ¡Me llamaron à mi juego!... ¡En esto de quebrar la cadera;...
(baila) no hay quien me pise el poncho!! (Varios aplausos)...
(SPECTATOR: Thank god I had a chance to try my artistic talent! Criollo roles? That's my game! And about bending the hip, [he dances] there is no one who can challenge me. [Applause])
Acting criollo roles is associated with dancing with quebrada, shown to the audience in a dance pantomime followed by a citation of a lunfardo phrase from Nene's dance in Á vuelo de pájaro: “no hay quien me pise el poncho”. This, at the very beginning of the play, proclaimed by the leading actor!
Later, the revue features a dancing scene that turned out to be the most successful musical number of the play. It shows striking similarities to the compadrito dance in Á vuelo de pájaro—not only in content and structure, but also in the text. The last lines of the text
¡Que semos mancos! ¡Nos pisó el tren!
are obviously borrowed from Á vuelo de pájaro:
¡Semos mancos, nos pisó la bisicleta…!
“Que semos mancos” became the unofficial title, as it were, of the song. As such, the text was reprinted independently as the “celebrated trio of the compadritos” from Ensalada criolla, and even years later Alfredo Gobbi recorded a recitation and song inspired by this trio.
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From the title page of Ensalada criolla
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The compadritos in the trio are not a couple, as in Á vuelo de pájaro, but (echos of La Gran Vía) three “low people”: the “Light” Pichinango, the “Brown” Zipitría, and the “Black” Pantaleón. In a song replete with lunfardo expressions, they introduce themselves as the best-known cuchilleros (“knifers”) who “clean their teeth with the point of their daggers”. They tell about their three girlfriends who support them financially. Then, showing off their dancing skills and mocking each other, they vie for the best moves and, pulling their daggers demonstratively, declare that they will meet any challenge with the point of the knife.
In the scene following thereafter, the three cuchilleros are joined by their respective girlfriends: “light” Aniceta, “brown” Tongorí, and “black” María Cañonazo. After a belligerent dialogue, in which various participants insult and physically threaten each other, it is not the men who get rough but the women who come to blows. Separated by the men, they cry and make up, and the three couples dance to the transitional music that leads to the next scene.
The correspondences between the dancing scenes in Á vuelo de pájaro and Ensalada criolla go beyond the textual references mentioned above. Again: violence, exploitation, and dancing with corte y quebrada are conjoined to characterize lower class people. The cuchilleros proclaim proudly their willingness to live up to their name:
TODOS: ¡Ni al más taura le temo al maneje,
soy como el cangrejo,
reculo pa atras...
Si me envisten, la punta les pongo
Y... todo el mondongo
Les voy a achurar!
RUBIO: Este [Rubio] es como un lion!
PARDO: ¿A este Pardo, quién lo pisa?
NEGRO: ¡Estos dos sirven de risa
Si entra el Negro Pantalion!
(bailan y barajan)
LOS 3: ¡Vengan, si existen crudos,
tan macanudos
como estos tres,
(Hablando) Vengan, Negros ó blancos...
¡Que semos mancos!
¡Nos piso el tren!
(ALL: I am not afraid to handle the most daring one. I am like a crab, I go backwards. If they run me over, I give them the point and gut their belly! LIGHT: This [Light] one is an animal! BROWN: This Brown one, who dares to challenge him? BLACK: These two are laughable … when Black Pantalion steps in! [they dance and mock-fight] THE 3: Let them come, if there are tough guys as excellent as these three! [Speaking] Let them come, black or white! We are one-armed! We were run over by a train!)
Ruthlessness characterizes also the relationship to their women. When Pichinango and Zipitría describe them in the song, they relate how they wrest money from them:
RUBIO: Ya encanadas tenemos tres minas,
Que el vento refilan,
A más no poder...
Si no forman con una cantada
La perra, ¡que biaba
se van a comer!
PARDO: Mi pardita es más brava q'un filo,
Y hoy chapa un estrilo,
Si la hago formar!
Si ella tiene escondida la plata...
(hablando)
Le espianto una luca
Y voy a morfar!
(LIGHT: We now have hooked three girls who bring in money to the limit... If they do not hand it over willingly, what a punch they are going to swallow!
BROWN: My “brown” one is sharper than a knife's edge, and today she will throw a tantrum when I make her pay. If she has the money hidden... [spoken] I will relieve her of a bill and go out to eat.)
The dancing part of the scene is performed by the three cuchilleros without the women. Competitively they show off their moves:
NEGRO: ¡Abran cancha y perdonen si piso, (baila)
Que yo soy muy guiso, para bailar!
Compañeros, denme una manito Que el chamberguito
[INSERT]
Se me va á cair!
RUBIO: ¡Q'no hay chucho con el rubio Pichinango
Que maturrango
Es pa bailar!
A la china que le quie[b]re la cadera...
Ay, la pollera
Como le hará!
(BLACK: Make room and excuse me if I step in, [dances] I am crazy about dancing.
Friends, give me a hand because my hat
{INSERT}
is going to fall!
LIGHT: “Light” Pichinango is not afraid, he's an old hand at dancing.
He bends the hip of the girl! Hey, what he will do to her skirt!)
The later edited text version contains the following insert, in which Pantaleón demonstrates a corte as a dance move:
RUBIO: ¡Pará el carro, Pantaleón!
PARDO: ¡Ese baile ya no cuela!
NEGRO: (Con sorna). ¡Este corte... (lo hace) es de mi escuela.
¡Perdonen la lección!
RUBIO: ¡Qué pata!... ¡la de la sota!
PARDO: ¡Mucho enriedo para un pleito!
NEGRO: ¡No tiene lustre esta bota!
(LIGHT: Hold your horses, Pantaleón! BROWN: That dance doesn't cut it anymore! BLACK [With irony.] This corte... [shows it] is from my school. Excuse the lesson! LIGHT: What footwork! What a gimmick! BROWN: Enough stuff for a challenge! BLACK: That shoe has no shine!)
If it was not as conspicuous in Soria's Justicia criolla or De Maria's Á vuelo de pájaro, it is quite obvious here: dancing with corte y quebrada (tango) is men's business! The dance is always presented from a man's perspective: whether a man talks about dancing with a woman or pantomimes tango moves. Ensalada criolla introduces another commonplace of tango: men dancing with men. As we have seen, the cuchillerosscene stands in the tradition of the ratas of La Gran Vía, where a group of male actors perform a musical number. The music of the three ratas is a jota, a Spanish dance, but the theatrical scene is not a dance per se. In Ensalada criolla, however, the dance is an integral part of the cuchilleros scene, inasmuch as it is mentioned in the text and is written into the staging instructions.
Ensalada criolla proved to be quite successful with the audience, as the Podestá company restaged the revue several times, at least until 1903. In 1902, another sainete-revue by Enrique De María, Bohemia criolla (a parody of Puccini's opera La Bohème), with music composed by Antonio Reynoso, proved to be popular as well. It will concern us only briefly since it did not contribute anything new with respect to tango but confirmed established conventions.
There are two dancing scenes in the play, both of them performed by men only. Furthermore, both scenes involve groups of three men. In the first one, the main character Sinforoso, an “orillero” and “compadrito”, sings and dances (alone) “marking all the postures of the dance with corte”, which are then imitated by his three male friends. In the second, three male street vendors sing and end every strophe dancing with “corte”. As in De María's earlier plays, tango is not mentioned by name in Bohemia criolla; the dances are just to be performed with “corte”.
At the beginning of the 20 th century, tango has become an integral part of the teatro criollo. It is a component of the representation of a certain social class in comedies. As part of theatric characterization, it fits predominantly into men's roles inasmuch as men show off their cortes and quebradas, talk about the dance, make women fall in love with it, teach it to friends or to a woman partner, or dance it which each other. Yet, what the dance actually looked like, we do not know. There are neither stage instructions, descriptions, or illustrations that would give an idea of how these dances were performed. The execution of corte and quebrada were left to the actors and stage directors. Once tango made a more frequent appearance on stage and became more visible, we find evidence of how it was danced in the theater—and not just on stage.
© 2020 Wolfgang Freis
