“Francisco Hidalgo, the flamenco choreographer, does outstanding work with the company of dancers”
House of Flamenka brings together a wealth of talent in the form of music, singing and dancing, all under the direction of Arlene Phillips. Phillips co-created this show with singer and dancer Karen Ruimy. Together these celebrated artists have produced a show that is best described as a fusion of flamenco and contemporary dance styles accompanied by an upbeat and updated medley of songs. The music includes everything from classics such as Bésame Mucho and Dance Me To The End Of Love (sung by Ruimy) to a more contemporary pop and hip hop vibe for the dancers. Ruimy does the singing to great effect, and the dancers are energetic and versatile. The show is sexy, and alluring.
There is a story to House of Flamenka, but audiences could be forgiven for not noticing. It is the most minimal of narratives, designed to bring together a singer, some dancers, and a set and costumes that would seem improbable under any other circumstances. It is a Broadway fantasy taken to extremes that will remind audiences, frankly, of the darker side of Los Angeles, rather than New York. But for what it’s worth, the narrative involves “a goddess of music and dance whose passion is collecting beautiful objects.” The programme note warns us that hubris is about to visit, but we never really get to find out how or why, unless it’s the disappearance of most of the set in the second half. At any rate, the goddess (Ruimy) presides over a show by her beautiful objects, and often participates. The whole event takes place in her extravagantly designed house, and is, indeed, an appropriate setting for the kind of entertainment that House of Flamenka provides.
There are many strong elements in House of Flamenka, and the footwork in the flamenco influenced numbers is particularly notable. Francisco Hidalgo, the flamenco choreographer, does outstanding work with the company of dancers, many of whom have distinguished careers in the flamenco world. Other dancers are from the world of contemporary dance and dance of the African diaspora — with equally distinguished experience. One of the great challenges of a show like this, then, is how to bring it all together. James Cousins does a brilliant job with the choreography of the numbers that feature contemporary dance. But it has to be said that flamenco, danced only by men (with the exception of Ruimy) feels incomplete, no matter how skillful the artists. Jasmine Swan who designed both set and costumes, manages a functional set despite its extravagance, but the costumes bring more attention to themselves, rather than to the dancers. The exception here are Ruimy’s costumes, which she changes for every number. They are both brilliantly designed and very flattering. But the point of fusion is to bring a variety of diverse styles and traditions together in a satisfying way. Sadly, House of Flamenka doesn’t really manage this in a way that feels organically whole.
If you go to House of Flamenka in search of art house flamenco rather than Broadway, you might be disappointed. Given the extraordinary abilities of the assembled company, you might also feel that House of Flamenka does not quite manage the diversity of its material to best effect. It is missing something that would turn this show from simply a good evening in the theatre, to something truly memorable.
“an interesting perspective on an otherwise seemingly black and white story”
The Apology, directed by Ria Parry, follows the lives of three women, each involved in the attempt to uncover the truth about ‘comfort girls’ during World War Two. An estimated 200,000 girls were taken, by deception or force, from their villages in Japanese-occupied countries, and imprisoned as sex slaves throughout the war, sanctioned by the Japanese government. This isn’t a part of history I’m especially familiar with, so the story itself was fascinating and horrifying.
The pace is a bit sloppy, and I’d say it could do with a twenty-minute haircut, but given it’s based on very true events I can see how it would feel harsh not to give all the characters enough time to flesh out their stories.
As well as the historical narratives, both during the war and in the nineties when the UN began its investigations, writer Kyo Choi also includes a personal narrative about a man (Kwong Loke) who was, to his understanding, forced to recruit ‘comfort girls’, and how he continued to live with himself after the war. It’s an interesting perspective on an otherwise seemingly black and white story: this man was neither evil nor good, and it’s an important reminder that history is rarely so clean-cut.
Performances are strong across the board, and Choi has done well to include a little levity in a fairly bleak story, giving a generous emotional range to all the characters. Priyanka Silva, the UN lawyer, played by Sharan Phull, is cringingly earnest at times, but that rings fairly true for her character, and even she cracks a joke once in a while.
The only real issue I had with the performances- and I’m ready to be told I’m wrong about this- is the accents: the three modern-day Korean characters all speak with Korean accents, whereas the young girl playing the younger self of a former ‘comfort girl’, speaks in received pronunciation. It’s fine to cast accent-blind, but given that that’s not the case for any other characters, I find it quite jarring and distracting.
TK Hay’s set design is simple and elegant: Floor and walls are covered in orderly paperwork, seemingly signifying the beaurocracy and white tape involved in any official decisions or changes. But it also evokes a paper trail: evidence, waiting to be found.
Ultimately, it’s a compelling and important story, and although a little baggy, the content of The Apology carries it through when the execution itself feels a little too sentimental, or a little drawn out.
