A non-pathetic Don Jose

I've just come back from MUPA having watched a trio of dances by the Godollo ballet company.
It was French themed: Bolero, De ja vu and Carmen. I hadn't ever heard of the middle piece, but anything by Bizet has me hooked, so off i went, happily on my own.

The Ravel dance was red and black and sexy; lots of lifted skirts and skirts discarded and parted legs and boys with delectable bums.

De ja vu started with a couple on a chair on a table with the sound of the roar of the waves. it was simple, unfamiliar, yet once they began to move, achingly familiar.
With the music- first piano, then violin, then tinkling piano again, the rugged ground of a relationship was explored incredibly sensitively.

And Carmen: when it began I thought: whoa the arrangement might not sit well with this particular Bizet lover, but then....well then the familiar tenets of the story, the familiar lilts of the music, the memory of the lyrics and the knowledge of the whole story, really, like the back of my hand...
There was a part where I cried, but it was followed immediately by a part where Escamillo, in this case a ginger in sunnies, gold satin pants and an aqua bolero pranced out on stage. It was a wonderful mixture of joy and jealousy.... an added artistic touch was Don Jose's hanging at the end, a beautiful suicide, if it can be called that.

And in the glistening wet black night, as I clip-clopped in my vastly uncomfortable heels to the taxi, I realised again, how very very much I love the theatre.