I'm beginning to think there are two types of people in this world; those who have read Cortázar, and those who have not. Put me in the second camp for now, but I did get to 'Clasica y Moderna' a few weeks ago for an unusual and beautiful reading of some of the great Argentine writer's work interspersed with music of the melancholic accordion and piano kind. Each piece was more its own original work than it was just a reading of Rayuela set to music.
To understand what made this night so remarkable, I have to describe 'Clasica y Moderna.' Basically, it's a book store/cafe/restaurant/performance space/final resting place for old Italian bikes found in the rafters above. It's been around since 1938 and its Art Deco facade blends into the blur of taxis, buses, and motos speeding up Av. Callao. The performance, titled 'Un Tal Julio' consisted of three gentleman, the oldest of which read from Cortázar's wide body of work, the other two switched off between a stage full of instruments. The musicians played with small bursts of frantic energy, like free jazz with bandeon, but the dominant style evoked nostalgia for the old cafes of Palermo or of Cortazer's adopted home in Paris.
The room was full of a mostly older, comfortable class and although my friend James and I were sitting towards the back, we had a great view of the front of the house and curious passers-by. The greatest compliment I can pay these performers is to say that the entire night felt as if it had been lifted straight from an Almodover film. You know the scene…where a rare and exceptional performance serves as the backdrop for the protagonist’s forlorn internal monologue and a longing gaze across the room.
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