The last performance of the season at the Berliner Festspiele, Último helecho (Spanish for ‘The Last Fern’), is a reverie reflecting on the history and culture of Argentina. In the work by Nina Laisné (France), François Chaignaud (France) and Nadia Larcher (Argentina), music, singing and dance come together to weave a rich tapestry of people, events, desires and wishes. Premiered last summer at Impulstanz Vienna International Dance Festival it is a co-production between the Berliner Festpiele, the Théâtre de Liège, Les 2 Scènes, Le Quartz and the Maison de la danse. Both contemporary and archaic, it explores post-colonial identities.
The piece opens with three musicians suspended in mid-air on a rock, playing sackbuts (Renaissance trombones) and dancing 'under the arch' with their instruments. A lonely figure (Chaignaud) lying on the side on the floor is illuminated. He begins to move very slowly and uses his stick to suspend himself off the floor. A female figure (Larcher) is also seen sleeping on her side under the rock that has the form of a mushroom. She sits up and begins to sing a melancholic traditional Argentinian song in Spanish (Quiero ser luz, 1963), accompanied by a theorbo (a baroque lute) and a bandoneon (an Argentinian concertina).
The two barefoot figures, wearing skin-coloured, embellished leotards and shaved heads, transport us back to the Incas and their foundational myths of the golden rod. We are taken to a haunting forest where the warrior staggers, trying to protect his woman (or is she an Incan goddess?) from nature and the conquistadors alike. We see them run, hide, quarrel and dance. The rod is both a tool of suspension and an instrument for killing. It is also a metronome, which she uses to set the tempo for another song.
Without heels, they dance a traditional Zamba with the typical zapateado and handkerchief waving. His movements remind me of two of Nijinsky’s images of the golden slave: arms lifted, back arched and neck tilted, or hunched, legs bent as if in a squat. Occasionally, however, traces of Western theatrical training emerge in the form of light-fast fan kicks. Suddenly, part of the structure propping up the floating rock falls; she catches it, and we realise that the rocky mushroom can stand by itself. It is a theatrical trick. Finally, they rest with their heads leaning on their partners, the rod planted in a rock in one corner.
The six musicians take over the stage for a musical intermezzo, performing with a range of visually stunning instruments, including traditional percussion, a sackbut, a Renaissance serpent flute, a round wacrapuco horn, a bandoneon and an Argentinian sachaguitarra. The soundscape offers an insight into Argentinian musical history, spanning from El cant de la sibil.la (1569) to Malambo de la sibil.la (2025). The songs are exclusively in Spanish and are mostly melancholic. It would have been helpful to have had real-time subtitles to grasp the references, as at the opera.
The singer is offered a regalia — a long, thick robe — under which her arms disappear. She is also given a headpiece consisting of two thick black cornrows and wears heels. She is now tamed, westernised and seems to be trying to convince him to follow her. He finally gives in and receives a similar robe, headpiece and knee-high boots (which remind me of a famous fairy tale). They dance what looks like a court dance, swirling along the floor, and then return to the zapateado, which sounds more incisive with the heels as the woman waves the handkerchief.
He sings and improvises beats with different foot positions, holding the robe with his long-nailed hands to show off his legs. We see them at the top of the rock, wearing golden gloves with roots or branches growing out of them, squabbling in slow motion. We then see them dancing the tango while the musicians parade playing underneath the rock. Finally, as they remove their headpieces, we enter the realm of dreams and desire. What should the future look like? We are invited to join in by clapping our hands to keep the rhythm as the musicians and performers dance and play on top of the rock looking out at the audience.
The reflection is profound, involving the identity of a population and the repercussions of the various influences that have been layered over time. From the indigenous population to the Spanish conquistadors to the European (mostly Italian) immigrants, Argentina’s cultural identity is a hybrid largely based on Western tradition — the tradition of the conquerors. Can and should it be divided into its different voices? In paying homage to 500 years of Argentinian music and dance, this seems to be a very difficult thing to do. It also questions the viewer. The aesthetic that still feels unfamiliar is a sign the eyes need to be de-westernised.
