Creature & Castanets

A slender, sparkling woman came down the gangplank of the S. S. Paris a fortnight ago, said a few fast greetings in French and moved down the pier to the luggage space allotted those whose names began with A. There were 22 trunks to be passed on, trunks filled with costumes which were white and ruffled, sleek and black, cloudy and lacey: trunks for gay mantillas, for red and green and golden slippers. Even customs officers looked their awe. Such colors, such stuffs were rare. Such charm was rare too, but at the moment no commensurate assurance swelled the breast of the sparkling creature. To be sure she was La Argentina, the Spanish dancer* who as a child was premiere danseuse classique at the Royal Opera in Madrid, as a mature artist the rage of Berlin, of Paris. But the U. S. was different. Her art was subtle, its lines tickling, fine. The U. S. might not understand. . . .

Last week La Argentina made her U. S. debut/- in Town Hall, Manhattan--a dusky curtain for her background, Pianist Carmencita Perez, billed as soloist of the Royal Spanish Court, to make her music. Pianist Perez played first but the evening began with the clicking of castanets in the wings and the gliding entrance of La Argentina. She was tired and languorous as the sun that used to warm her; she was glittering and remote; she was a primitive thing driving away evil spirits to the fire music made from de Falla's Amor Brujo, snapping her fingers, clucking her tongue; a comic spirit cavorting on a peasant's holiday. She danced without accompaniment, was herself the musician, playing a busy bass with her heels while her castanets turned the tune of a Seguidillas.

Like all great musicians her flawless technique seemed almost beneath notice. Her personality had absorbed it and it was that consummate artistry that made a blase audience break into cheers, demand encore after encore. Musical critics have scant use for dancers. La Argentina turned the tables, sent them fairly scampering to their offices to write her notices worthy of a Casals or a Kreisler.

* Born Antonia Merce, in Buenos Aires, of a Castilian father and an Andalusian mother. Her father was premier danseur in the Madrid Opera ballet in which she herself made her debut at 9.

/-Hailed as her U. S. debut but technically incorrect. Some 12 years ago, when she was much less of an artist, La Argentina gave a few matinee recitals, had small notice.