Last week, a good-sized audience settled into the seats at the Cairo Opera House to watch "Dreams of Al-Andalus, the latest production by Al-Andalus Danza, a Spanish dance company based in Madrid. "It has been my dream to make this show, because I think Spanish culture has a lot of influence from Arabic culture, said company choreographer and soloist Julia Salmeron. The company, which Salmeron directs, takes its name from the historical period between 711 and 1492 when the Iberian Peninsula was under Muslim rule. The show began with an ensemble of expensively costumed dancers entering the stage wearing sequined turbans, beaded bodices, Aladdin-style pants and small face veils. The ensemble was perfectly synchronized, in a performance reminiscent of courtiers in an elaborate harem scene in an old movie. Confident and well-endowed, Salmeron took her place smiling mysteriously before her slim figured ensemble. A second soloist with a similarly full figure replaced her on stage. This pattern of solos was standard of the show's dance numbers. She performed a rather constrained piece, her upper body looking very tense. When joined by the rest of the company, her face broke into an elated grin and she went on, moving more freely in the unison movement and tableaux that comprised the company's repertoire. It became clear that there was no story line, just flashy and well executed dance numbers. The company made many costume changes ranging from Oriental to Spanish, all sharing a common thread: well-tailored luxurious, rich fabrics. "This is how we imagine that time. We don't know what it was really like, but we tried to make something beautiful, said producer Eric Godfroid, adding that they were inspired by paintings from that era. Salmeron maintains, however, that the work does not aim to be dramaturgically accurate. "It's just a dream. It's not flamenco, not belly dance, not folklore, but fusion, she said. "It's to capture the spirit of Oriental dance, of Flamenco, the touch. Nevertheless, it seemed as if the Spanish company was serving up scenes from One Thousand and One Nights with the solos often coming across as sub-par performances by amateur dancers lacking abdominal/muscular coordination. Salmeron is not new to Cairo, where she studied folkloric dance from 1993 to 1998. That was when she met Egyptian dance innovator Mahmoud Reda in 1997. "There is a lot of Mahmoud in the show, Salmeron said, adding that it was Farida Fahmy, the original principal dancer of the Reda Dance Troupe, who introduced her to the show s composer Maher Kamel. One of the 1960s Troupe s aims was to overcome the bad reputation associated with the art of dance which was being performed only in night clubs in an atmosphere full of frivolity and alcoholics and to raise the standard of this art, then dubbed as belly shaking. Ironically, a great deal of Al-Andalus Danza's performance was reminiscent of cabaret gigs in the 1930s or 1940s. The "ethnic pastiche was endemic of the sort of scenes where black American dancer Josephine Baker might have donned a skirt made up of bananas, or Brazilian Carmen Miranda, a hat made of fruit. Neither was the show suited to the Open Air Theater. "The lighting is limited, Godfroid said. Indeed, a big show like this required the atmosphere of a fuller, indoor theater. The stage itself was reasonably lit with rear video projection that ranged from images of ancient building facades to Arabic mosaic to a full moon that increased in size as the dances began. Referring to Andalusia, producer Godfried said: "Today in Spain, we feel a lot of longing for this time. It was a time when very many people were living together, a better place. Not like today. Whether Al-Andalus' history is fantasy or reality, the show certainly leaned strongly toward the dreamlike nature its title suggests. The show displayed this most strongly toward the end, when all possible images of historical accuracy were lost in the costumes. At one point the ensemble balanced swords on their heads and collectively lay on the ground, giving the impression of a fallen or sleeping army. Salmeron then entered in a costume that betrayed the full "fusion intentions of the piece: a flowy cream-colored shift with a crown of flowers. Garnishing a wand, she invited the dancers to rise. Without meaning to do so, the show raises questions about ethnic identity but does so in a way that makes cultural reclamation or the representation of history seem as easy as putting on expensive Oriental costumes. Catch "Dreams of Al-Andalus next Sunday, Aug. 10, at the Citadel.
