I search in vain for reviews of the current flamenco season at Sadlers Wells - other than Clement Crisp being his usual self in the FT. There are reviews of minor plays that will be forgotten before they even close, but nothing of Eva Yerbabuena's Lluvia or Maria Pages' Autoretrato. What stops the critics seeing it? Is it the frocks? Can't they take the singing? Maybe the audience is the wrong kind of people (the kind who go to Spain for their holidays, not Tuscany)? Is it because they would lose credibility across the dining tables of north London if they said "frankly what these flamenco gals are doing is much more fun and interesting than the latest Arts Council darling"? I suspect the answer is a big YES to that one. If anyone suggests that it is because flamenco is flagrantly heterosexual and modern dance and classical ballet is, well, for those of a more delicate disposition, they would probably get into trouble with the thought police.
Flamenco is a genre with its conventions, and yet it is strong enough to absorb influences ranging from Keith Jarrett (channelled by the pianist with Rafaella Carrasco) to modern dance (Eva Yerbabuena) to John Mclaughlin (via his work with Paco de Lucia) and the Cuban music scene. Plus these guys have to make a living at it without funds from the National Lottery.
Anyway, in the end, do I care? The fans loved Maria Pages on Wednesday and so did I. Her castanet playing was awesome, the footwork fancy, the rapping fun and the whole show a delight. Given the choice between that and Swan bloody Lake, I know which I would take - even if it does mean the 341 bus to Waterloo afterwards.
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