The empathetic literary cabaret of Mario Gas

Mario Gas is an actor, a theatre and opera director, but also a zarzuela director (in January he will restage Los gavilanes at the Teatro de la Zarzuela in Madrid), a genre of musical theatre for which he has great affection and passion. This is not surprising if we consider that Mario Gas was born in Montevideo during the tour (of more than a year!) of his parents' company through Latin America. Hence the title of the show La nit és blanca, muy blanca..., which he premiered at La Fàbrica with the fragment of the romance Despierta negro from La tabernera del puerto by Maestro Sorozábal, which his father sang when he was born. A declaration of intent, moreover, playing with Catalan and Spanish in a show that looks back without nostalgia, evoking those poetic voices that have been part of his life.

Six years ago, Gas did something similar with Amici miei, which premiered at the La Gleva theatre in Barcelona and later in the small hall of the Teatro Español in Madrid. This current one, La lluna és blanca, muy blanca..., has to do with and has nothing to do with that proposal. It has to do with the literary cabaret format, with the presence of his mother's shopping cart on stage, with the empathy it exudes; and it has nothing to do with it because the materials are different. He starts by acting as a clown to remember Jango Edwards. And then, seriously, he anchors himself in his native Uruguay, summoning the intimate and existential poetry of Idea Vilariño and the 2018 Cervantes Prize winner Ida Vitali; he takes a turn through the committed poetry of Wisława Szymborska; he then sails and moors his boat in the Mediterranean with Joan Manel Serrat, Quico Pi de la Serra, Enric Barbat, Jaime Gil de Biedma, and Joan Baptista Humet, to finish with Jacques Prévert, Boris Vian, Luis García Montero, and a fragment from Cyrano by Edmond Rostand.

Gas, a great voice actor, is a dab hand at reciting poetry. He knows the music of poems and his clear diction transports the word to evoke the poets' imagery. Always daring, Mario Gas sings without wanting to be a singer. A heartfelt song, with his voice well-placed, which accentuates the word without losing harmony, perfectly in tune with the jazzy airs of Pep Pladellorens' piano. He even dares to sing the romance that gives the show its title... and which his father sang when he was born.