Pancho, 2012
National Prize for Theater winner
Amado del Pino
Accidents, coincidences, chance
often have a huge impact. The recent death of
Vicente Revuelta – quintessential teacher to all of
us who have worked in theater in Cuba for the last
55 years – coincided with the awarding of the 2012
National Prize for Theater to the complete
dramaturge, the consummate artist, Pancho García, a
joyous event.
Pancho spent a good part of his
career with the exemplary company which for decades
was known as the Teatro Estudio, founded by Vicente,
with his sister Raquel, in 1958. Those of us who
have had the pleasure of visiting the home of this
good and passionate man, the great host Pancho
García, have seen in a privileged spot within his
living room – where everything is discussed, but
above all, without ever boring, theater – is a photo
from that historic performance of Mother Courage,
among the many classics staged by Vicente. With
Pancho in the photo are Raquel and another
irreplaceable figure, Berta Martínez. It was with
Berta that Pancho led the cast in Bodas de sangre,
another great moment in 20th century Cuban theater.
Before joining Teatro Estudio,
García had been part of the amateur artists’
movement, during its best days. He was directed in
this period by Yony Amán, who deserves respect and
more recognition, given his career. At the beginning
of Pancho’s professional life, he joined the cast of
Los juegos santos, a play written and staged
by Pepe Santos Marrero, which was a landmark during
the 1970’s.
The list of shows in which Pancho
performed, directed or wrote is long and
substantive. Also under the direction of Berta, he
played the role of Macbeth, warmly received by
critics. In the legendary Hubert de Blanck Theater
he demonstrated the reach and depth of his talent,
writing, directing, playing a leading role in El
primo de La Habana, a one man show which
resurrects and extends the Lorca character Doña
Rosita. We discussed Lorca a good deal a few steps
from the poet’s home in Fuente Vaqueros, on the
night when Pancho was to portray Lorca, among
several other figures, in my play Reino dividido,
directed by Carlos Celdrán.
Pancho García has been awarded the
National Prize for Theater, the country’s most
important, at a productive moment. Recently screened
was the television version of En el túnel, un
pájaro, directed by Consuelo Ramírez, who has
been so close to Pancho and his work. The staging of
this play was one of his great moments as a
director. It was also an important reflection of the
dialogue he maintained with Spanish dramaturge
Paloma Pedrero. Also currently underway are
performances of Aire frío, again directed by
Celdrán with the Argos theater company.
Not to be forgotten is La
legionaria, Pancho’s one-man show, performed
hundreds of times over 15 years. How much love goes
into each and every performance! How much respect
for the audience, connection and intelligence in
every single show!
Lastly, an anecdote which I will
premiere in honor of the National Prize winner:
During one of the performances of
Reino... on tour in Spain, Pancho suddenly fell
ill. He was briefly hospitalized, just three hours
before the curtain call. Celdrán and the company
were considering options. From his hospital bed,
Pancho sent a message that he would do the
performance, but that, just in case, a last minute
replacement should be identified, to avoid a
cancellation. People know I’ve done a bit of acting
in films on TV, but I respect the theater too much –
in any event, horrified, I put on the robe Pancho
wore to give his masterful performance in one of the
final and decisive scenes. José Luis Hidalgo – his
counterpart and protagonist - patiently fed me the
lines. To make my anguish worse, it was the part of
the play I had least internalized. Perhaps because
of my admiration for Pancho, the way in which he
captured the priest, Father Almarcha, made it
difficult for me to memorize the words which were
now more his than mine.
In the end, Pancho did the
performance with such vigor, energy and beauty that
no one suspected any problem whatsoever. I’m
recounting this now and it’s as if I’m returning his
wardrobe, a physical gesture, a theatrical task
which makes it easier for me to let him know that I
will remain close by, in his life and his theater.