Do You Feel Lucky? A Winning Evening with The Pilot Dance Project

When you bring an audience together to play La Lotería, you make them ask, “Am I lucky?” When you devise a spell to bring Lotería cards to life, you make them ask, “Was it real?”

Audiences at Cynthia Garcia’s La Baile de Lotería, The Pilot Dance Project’s latest evening- length work, may have thought they were in for a typical black box performance by the storied dance company, but true to their penchant for unusual formats and locations, the Pilots (does anyone call them that? Well, they do now) had something less common in store.

Arriving at Matchbox 2 for the performances on Tuesday, September 16 (Tuesday evenings are made for Matchbox 2, aren’t they?) or Wednesday, September 17, we, the audience, were given a unique 8 ½ x 11” card with the program on one side and a Lotería card on the other with bespoke tabla images by local dancer and visual artist Melanie Garcia. We also received a Bingo dauber, and the competitive tension of randomized fate and fortune was on!

The tension and comedy built as the curtain went up to an empty spotlight at the front of the stage. Offstage bumps and scrapes were heard, and the spotlight went dark. More movement was heard backstage and onstage – including some far-away giggles – before the light returned and Juan Sebastián Cruz sauntered into it with a showman’s polished smile and a guileless familiarity. I don’t know if the gaffes were genuine or not but being able to see the seams or pseudo seams of the production blurred the line between backstage and audience, which made reality all the muddier when spells were cast and El Griton took us on our Lotería journey.

Cruz as El Griton explained that he is a Lotería pro in his hometown, and that he was given a spell book that would bring the cards to life. He gave a quick history of the game and brought up the house lights so we could all mark off card number one together, GALLO, or rooster, a reference to the preeminent Don Clemente Gallo version of the Lotería deck, as well as to our loudmouth-in-residence, El Griton. He tells us that the rules of this game are that the entire card must be filled to win. I look at my tabla and cross my fingers.

El Griton blew on the spellbook, or shook the spellbook, or sacrificó/sacrificar un gallo entre bastidores/detrás del enscenario to make the spellbook perform its magic. The spellbook and its activation were unclear to me. Literally. I was sitting toward the back of the theater on the opposite side of Cruz, who was house left, and I couldn’t see anything in the book. Hopefully it didn’t make a big difference, but if it did then that prop and its trigger needed to be larger and better defined. Grace was due to the PDP (briefly known as the Pilots) in this area because their collaborators, local theater company TEATRX, who developed the El Griton character, had to drop out of the production midway. Cruz’s confidence and bonhomie sold the narrative nonetheless, but I am sorry that the original plan could not be realized.

So, the spell was cast, our daubers were shaken to full ink distribution, and the dance of the Lotería commenced.

El que nace pa’maceta no sale del corredor.
He who is born to be a flowerpot will never leave the corridor.

A dreamer rests, head in arms, on a wrought iron cafe-style table that also holds a terra cotta flowerpot with dark pink flowers growing in it. A dancer in the same costume as the sleeper – bright, embroidered blouse and loose, unhemmed pants – enters the spotlight from the dreamy darkness and the two dance a blooming, springtime-y dance of elegant extensions and flowing high releases. In the end, the dream dancer leaves and the dreamer sleeps on leaving the audience to decide if the romance was real or a dozing fantasy.

Guest artist Jaime Garcia danced the dream dancer while PDP Executive and Artistic Director Adam Castañeda danced the sleeper. In a preview for El Baila de La Lotería, Cynthia Garcia said that she chose music for each tabla character early in her choreographic process. I could tell that the music and the scenarious were fully intertwined, and, since I can’t identify a salsa from a merenge by ear, Garcia was kind enough to share not only her musical choices but also their inspiration.

LA MACETA
Music: Clair de Lune, L. 32 by Claude Debussy, performed by Martin Jones. Classical Piano.
Inspiration: Garcia wanted “the music to match the beauty of the flowers in the maceta” and to “reflect the nurturing relationship between the two dancers.”

Rose. Rosita. Rosaura.
Rose. Rosie. Rosaura.

The floral theme continued as the screen at the back of the stage filled with large clusters of green and blue bursts and company dancer Jade Devault arrived on stage in a teal dress spread with contrasts of dark pink roses that were echoed in her floral headpiece. Devault danced with an air of consideration, contemplation, even as she flourished her sprouting arms from her rooted, elegant base. And then she didn’t. She floundered, making traumatized gestures with her hands. And then she flourished again, determinedly spreading growth, bringing it from the ground to the air, tending it with gracious flow. Until she stumbled and lost all stability and fluidity, grasping, but still giving attention to the needs of the space around her. I thought about massive loss of living things and the systems that struggle to maintain life and growth. It only takes one generation for an entire ecosystem to be lost to memory, a forgotten dream.

LA ROSA
Music: O Quizsas Simplemente Le Regale una Rosa by Leonardo Favio. Latin pop ballad.
Inspiration: Garcia found many songs to choose from that mentioned roses. This one is about “a man who picked a flower for his loved one and waited and waited to give it to her, recalling old memories they shared. It’s beautiful, but it’s also kind of sad, much like the life and death of a rose.” On Melanie Garcia’s tabla, card 41, La Rosa, shows a sweet-faced rose with two petals falling to the ground.

La cobija de los pobres.
The roof of the poor.

El farol de enamorados.
The lantern of lovers.

La guía de los marineros.
The sailor’s guide.

The backdrop screen becomes a stary sky, and three black-clad dancers with sparkles on their costumes and shiny crowns on their heads circle (or triangle) up, each facing a different direction. Company dancers Sierra Johnson and Kristina Prats and guest artist Mars Johnson begin circuitous movements, never acknowledging nor facing each other, each with their own celestial preoccupation. Then two dancers sway in gravitational stasis while the third dances their cosmic dance, with full, swaying arms, sometimes broadly and roundly raised like Atlas upholding the earth. The movements are mesmerizing and lovely.At the end, the dancers recognize each other and retrograde back to their starting positions.

EL SOL
LA LUNA
LA ESTRELLA

Music: Mañana Tepotzlan by El Búho. Folktronica. Electronic music with Latin American folk rhythms.
Inspiration: Says Garcia, “I wanted something that sounded like you were floating in space, but with a Latin flare.” Goal achieved!

El Griton returns to his spotlight and the spell is temporarily broken. The audience tends to the contest at hand and El Griton confirms the cards we have seen come to life so far. We cross off La Maceta, La Rosa, El Sol, La Luna, and La Estrella. With El Gallo, that’s six cards out of sixteen. It’s still anyone’s game.

A man comes from off stage and hands El Griton a beer, which he accepts and opens with a congenial fizz. The two walk off stage and the spell is recast.

Tanto bebió el albañil que quedó como barril.
The bricklayer drank so much that he ended up like a barrel.

La hermienta del borracho.
The tool of the drunk.

A qué borracho tan necio ya no lo puedo aguantar.
I cannot put up with the foolish drunk.

A barrel sits at the far right upstage as the beer-sharing borracho, danced with flair by guest artist Khalil Cabble enters from downstage left. He drunkenly stumbles to the barrel and sets down his beer, which *POOF* turns into a red-dressed Senorita –company member Sierra Johnson sitting on the barrel seductively. The sexiness in this piece happens with a wink to the audience, a cartoonish, pantomime version of the erotic. The couple dances back and forth across the stage with playful flair to a version of the ditzy 1960s hit “Wooly Bully” until the girl returns to the barrel and *POOF* becomes a bottle again. Was it inebriation, or was it the girl of his dreams?

EL BARRIL
LA BOTELLA
EL BORRACHO

Music: Bule Bule by Los Rockin’ Devils. 1960’s garage rock.
Inspiration: “I’ve been familiar with both Bule Bule and Wooly Bully, and I always thought of this quirky and flirty duet to have an iconic song from the 60’s and I think it fit the characters and their movements perfectly.” This song is so danceable, it’s easy to imagine it turning a stumbling borracho into a light-footed querido.

Con los cantos de sirena no te vayas a marear.
Don’t get dizzy with the songs of the mermaid.

Company member Ashley Horn appeared as if from the mist as low, blue and green lighting murkily filled the stage. Emerging upstage to the audience’s right, she stretched and crept diagonally across the stage, revealing an extraordinarily long, lithesome tail of dark fabric with a teal luster. It’s hard to say exactly how long the tail was because just when Horn maneuvered her core furthest from its tip, she would grasp it and whip it to the other side of her body, casting it toward her destination. The tail’s exceptional length took Horn’s mermaid from mythic to absurdly bizarre. Her quest, though, seemed clear: survival, perhaps escape? She had to cross that stage and, although some of her movements had a wave-like or tidal power, she couldn’t simply swim. Horn’s gestures felt like a description of a watery race and the stories and traits that made survival possible. At her downstage destination, the mermaid was swept away on a fishing net, and I imagine those marineros had not only a mermaid story to tell, but an extra freaky mermaid story. Would anyone believe it? How could something so insensible possibly be true?

LA SIRENA
Music: Hoist the Colours by MALINDA. Sea Shanty.
Inspiration: “I feel like mermaids and sea shanties go hand in hand. I worked at the Texas Renaissance Festival for 5 years and was always surrounded by that genre of music. So, it was an instant “aha” moment when finding music for this haunting solo.” Garcia calls this music a shanty. I would call it a hybrid, either a dirge-shanty or a shanty-dirge. It was wonderful.

El músico trompa de hule, ya no me quiere tocar.
The musician had oiled his horn; now he doesn’t want to play for me.

A quartet of dancers – company members Adam Castañeda, Jade Devault, and Mia Pham, plus guest artist Jaime Garcia – took the stage in intensely-colored evening dresses with sparkling floral trim. Movements were flowing and both took in gently, manipulating the space. Tension was always paired with strength. As each dancer took a solo score, the others performed slow, forlorn roll downs and roll ups, holding their space. One impressive movement taken by each dancer involved fully engaged and extended legs pressing toes into the floor as thighs pressed against the fabric of each gown. It was a moment of serenity found in maximum effort, and it was glorious.

EL MUSICO
Music: Oblivion by Astor Piazzolla, performed by Astoria String Quartet. Nuevo Tango.
Inspiration: “I knew right off the bat that I wanted a piece of music by a string quartet because I wanted each dancer to represent a different instrument. I listened to a lot of different pieces until I found this version of Oblivion, which I chose because each instrument solos at least once, and it’s very clear when those moments happen. It made for a great music visualization piece.” The softly extended notes of Piazzolla’s piece were ideal mates for the work of the bodies on stage.

Una bota es igual l’otre.
One boot is the same as the other.

Now this was unexpected: a hulking, butt-sinking recliner sat in the middle of the stage as the lights came up, complete with side table and TV remote. I was excited to see how this monument to lethargy would feature in a dance. And then…a dancer walked to the chair wearing a medical boot. You know the kind; like the recliner, they are made to hold something perfectly still, unmoving, unmovable. And Cynthia Garcia chose these elements for a work of movement. The audacity! The dancer–guest artist Isabel Ramirez – began by clicking the remote to the beat of Tijuana Bass (a “dancing” remote! Does it get any better than this?) before beginning to move around the chair like a bored kid at a desk. She was slipping, sliding, sideways, and upside-down. Eventually, the chair wasn’t enough of a platform for movement, and she moved further out into the space, testing the limits of her medical appliance. This dance, too, had a “did it really happen?” and a “what is really going on?” incredulity to it, because the dancer put percussive weight on her booted foot for a passage of music, and at another point removed the boot entirely. Then, when she sat back down in the chair at the end of the piece, she clicked through the channels again, and the stage went dark. If we turned the TV back on, would that channel still exist, or would it have turned into a static void?

LA BOTA
Music: Tijuana Bass by Nortec: Bostich + Fussible. Mexican Norteño and Techno music.
Inspiration: “I heard this song a long time ago at yet another dance concert. I loved the blending of genres so much that that song has been sitting in my playlist waiting for me to create something to it. When I thought of the idea for La Bota, I wanted a song that was playful, fun, and catchy.” It was very catchy, and the dancer rode an interesting wave of energy and limitation.

Las jaras del indio Adán donde pegan dan.
The arrows of the Indian Adam where they are joined together.

Adam Casteñeda and Khalil Cabble performed a duet in costumes that may have suggested martial arts, as did some of the movements in this cumbia. I couldn’t quite determine the relationship between the two dancers, but their experiences on stage were analogous. They seemed to be desperate, potentially endangered humans, experiencing (life-ending? Or just periodic?) threats and traumas, after which they would rise from the floor in a kind of reset. Passages of running and gestures with expansive arms and chests indicate the arrows from the Lotería card the dance brings to life, but the dancer’s movements also felt searching and lost, like an arrow in tall grass.

LAS JARAS
Music: Bocanegra by Sonido Gallo Negro. Psychedelic tropical cumbia.
Inspiration: “This was a song I just came across by accident. I really liked the rhythm and the fresh take on traditional cumbias, and I think it fit really well with the duet.”

Me lo das o me lo quitas.
I can take it or leave it.

El que espera, desespera.
He who waits despairs.

La barriga que Juan tenía era empacho de sandía.
John’s belly was full of watermelon.

This dance was pure fun, and, in a word, cheeky. It was flirtatious and joyous, and juicy and sweet. Again, the costumes were in saturated, bold colors, in this case dresses with contrasting petticoats and bright floral headpieces with a piece of fruit to correspond to each dancer’s Lotería card. Dancers Dorianne Castillo and Mia Pham were especially fun to watch in the swing of a mambo, while Sierra Johnson often squarely hit the beat more often than she barely squeezed in the door before the end of it, which is what a dancer needs to do to get the juiciest squishes out of syncopated rhythms. Being almost late is being on time. But never mind. Everyone got there in the end, and the audience got a generous serving of las frutas.

EL MELON
LA PERA
LA SANDIA

Music: Mambo No 5 by Pérez Prado. Cuban mambo and jazz.
Inspiration: “I definitely wanted a tropical vibe for this trio, and I wanted to find a song from the older Latin jazz genre. I honestly didn’t even know that Mambo No 5 had an older version. So when I came across this (original) version, I knew I had to use it for this trio. I also enjoy using songs that audience members might be familiar with. I think it makes the piece more enjoyable that way.”

El Griton made his third appearance after this piece and we all checked off as many of the ten Lotería cards as we could. It wasn’t looking great for my tabla, and I was feeling the futile competitive indignation that these games bring out in me. Still, I was going home with an amazing purple marker, a gorgeous printed program, delightful memories, and just a tiny seething frustration that I wasn’t the prize winner.

There was one more dance to go. El Griton spoke about his abuelo and his experience in World War II. In anticipation, I crossed off El Soldado. Eleven out of sixteen. Not even close.

Uno, dos y tres, el soldado p’al cuartel.
One, two and three, the soldier goes to the barracks.

Jai Alexander, guest artist in this program, is as easy on the eyes as Vicente Fernández is on the ears. Both are masterful, and in the confidence of their presence, the audience is transported to wherever they choose to take us. Alexander’s soldier begins and ends his dance in a strenuous crawl. He takes us to the drill of army training, the pity of things missed and left behind. He suggests to us the soul-altering difficulty of things one can’t imagine one must do to survive. He takes us to moments of glory. He shows us the torment and the necessity of carrying on. It was a satisfying finale to a diverse and abundant offering of dance.

EL SOLDADO
Music: El Adios del Soldado by Vicente Fernández with Felipe Arriaga. Mariachi, Latin, Norteño, Ballad.
Inspiration: “I’ve used music by Vicente Fernández in a couple of my previous works and his voice is just so iconic and beautiful. When I saw that he had a song about a soldier, I tried it out with my dancer and I knew from the first few seconds that this was the right song for this solo.”

El Griton returns to end the party and take his bow, to take his magical spellbook and go home. The audience was grateful for this time spent spellbound, and for the community of the Lotería.

No one was more grateful, though, than Isidore from Houston, the evening’s winner, with all sixteen spaces filled on his Lotería tabla. Congratulations, Isidore!