His solution in "La Edad de Oro" ("The Golden Age") is to reject convention, adopting a geeky silhouette and incorporating bizarre gestures while unilaterally declaring that the Golden Age is here and now and that he is its representative.
Self-confidence never hurts. Viewers can make up their own minds, however, whether Galván really is the epitome of a halcyon era.
His dancing has much to recommend it. Newly svelte and wiry, Galván offers speed, clarity and the gift of continuous invention and surprise. No one expects a flamenco dancer to turn himself around by hooking a finger in his mouth and pulling on his head, or play with his teeth, or take the rhythm inside his shirt, making the fabric pulse in time to the music.
On the other hand, stunts like these, and the dancer's endless hieroglyphic profiles with a hand jutting out, unspool without any emotional variety or depth. Although Galván never repeats himself, his performance has a sameness from beginning to end, and the segments of this program distinguish themselves primarily through changes in lighting.
Despite his rebellious stance, Galván is not completely modern. He dialogs with the past—or else there would be no point in calling this flamenco. On a bare and frequently darkened stage, his traditional accompanists are musicians David Lagos and Alfredo Lagos, cantaor and guitarist, respectively. The flamenco palos, or rhythms, are present along with snatches of classical melody (Albéniz's "Granada"), although when Galván dances, they are fragmented, losing all suggestion of mood. His costume remains a simple black shirt and pants, although he dons snazzy white shoes to deconstruct the Farruca.
When Galván rests between dance numbers, the musicians have more pportunity to develop a theme, but perhaps because of the context, they never overcome the program's atmosphere of chilly abstraction.
Flamenco is a deeply personal art, and Galván cannot be faulted for being himself. Who else could he be? Yet despite the weight of history and the ever-present threat of lapsing into kitsch, most contemporary flamenco dancers do not share his discomfort with the past. A prime example would be Soledad Barrio, an exponent of flamenco puro whose company, Noche Flamenca, inherits the Joyce stage next week.
Defying modernity, flamenco typically presents itself as a timeless art that draws its message from the unchanging elements in human life—the bedrock emotions of grief and joy. Balancing the individual artist's discoveries are profound connections to other human beings and to the community. These connections have nothing to do with an artistic Golden Age, or with polka dots, fans or other picturesque details evoking Spanish folklore.
Flamenco is more than a vehicle for personal idiosyncrasies, and more than an artistic fashion show.
Robert Johnson: email@example.com