In this article, the author shares his memories of a comical theatrical performance that the cast Los Amigos performed in the shed of a field in 1960. The technical poverty of the time did not appease the night, which remained in the memory of all those present.
Aldo Umazano *
It was 1960. The cast was called Los Amigos, directed by Don Benedito Bengoechea. We had to raise money to pay for the premiere programs, so we decided to do a show in the field of the father of “Old Man” Urdániz, a member of the group, where of course there was a shed. To put it in condition, we went the day before. We rolled the bundles of wool and stacked them in a corner. We clean. A trailer served as a stage, and with some mason planks on bricks and drawers, we set up the stalls. It was a busy afternoon. The next morning, with tamarind branches, we swept the yard where the cars would park. At twelve o’clock the “Old Man” roasted a capon on the spit. In the afternoon, we painted the gate posts blue and white in front of Route 35 to indicate that this was the entrance to the field where the show would be held. Although everyone knew where the field of “Urdániz” was, a well-known family from Santa Rosa who lived in front of the Casa del Pueblo, on Juan B. Justo street.
It is important to remember that next to the shed where we would give the show, there was the corral.
The play was called Los Chicos Crecen, by Dartés and Damel. How we enjoyed that effort! After the show the dance would come.
I take this opportunity to say that 43 years later, in 2003, when we were rehearsing the Centennial show in Trenel, the Gringo Tombolini –an old actor in the middle– recalled: “In our youth, we went to the villages and set the stage with the drums of naphtha and mason boards. The men went to the morning. The women arrived in the afternoon with costumes and makeup. If we had been carried away by the lack of hall and stage, we would not have done theater ”.
“Lend me the poncho.”
This shed in Urdániz was simply a tin shed smelling of cereal, bundles of wool, chickens and ducks. To illuminate the stage space, we hung from the ceiling, at the height of the performers’ heads, three Petromax lanterns to be attended by the actress or actor who was closest to them; the data was when the light intensity decreased due to lack of pressure. And that happened many times during the show.
Luis Marangón, today a professional actor in Buenos Aires, like a character who came from the north and wore a very colorful poncho did, as soon as he entered, an older woman from the front row told him: “Lend me the poncho, I’m cold.” The audience laughed. And it was true, the night was very cold.
Luis got out, took off his poncho, and continued saying the text while he put it on the lady. At the end of the performance, the woman handed it back to him.
But there was another moment that still makes us laugh when we remember it; It was a scene where the main character –Marcelino Boto–, with his deep voice, said to the actress, “Coca” De la Mata: “Madam, you must marry me”. And from the corral came a: “Mmm!”, Played by a cow. The curious thing was that the moo entered at the exact moment and with an expression of doubt. So everyone laughed. I reflected on that moment many times. Because despite the moo, people understood the dramatic moment played by the actors. “And that the cow had not rehearsed.” “And nobody gave him the ‘foot'”, we said after the show, and laughed like crazy.
After the presentation, the dance began and the canteen began to function. With the profit we paid for the programs and bought makeup at the Titi house on Sarmiento Street in Buenos Aires. In addition, we were able to toast and say goodbye to the year with a party at Luis Marangón’s, where we did some improvisations.
Old Man Urdániz remembered the sum because, in addition to being an actor, he was responsible for keeping the group’s accounts.
An act of love.
Another fact that the memory gives me is that we put a vitrola. I don’t know whose it was. As some bundles of wool were next to the stage, with the “Turk” Desuque –the truck driver– who had brought us the junk and the drinks, we put a vitrola on top of the canvases, and we played music with the 78 pasta discs. The vitrolas worked on a string, which indicated that we had to be attentive so that the music did not lose the rite. But, between going up and down, to help in the canteen, we forgot to wind it up and the dancers became slow. The same thing happened with the light that dimmed because we did not give a bomb to the lanterns. At times the dance was in darkness. Today, from a distance, that performance reminds me of the words of Jouvet, the great French master when he said “Theater is an act of love.” And we did it for love.
- Collaborator. Actor, director, playwright and puppeteer.
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