Portfolio at NYU

Posted 05.27.03
Tango in Manhattan

By Carola Mandelbaum

May, 2003

Sweat drops trickled down his forehead onto the cobblestone dance floor. The dim yellow lights and the smoky air created a sensual atmosphere that engulfed everyone in the room. The mesmerized audience couldn't take their eyes off Santiago and Moira. The band played "Adiós Nonino" by Astor Piazzola and the young couple danced as if nothing else existed. Other couples in the floor moved aside and Santiago smiled, clearly enjoying the attention. He held Moira firmly and, wearing a black micro-mini and a matching top, she actively followed his lead. When he swung her around in the finale, the crowd took ten long seconds to break the spell and cheered furiously.

Blond and soft-featured Santiago Steele, 30, is a professional tango dancer who has lived in Buenos Aires, the birthplace of tango, and has returned to New York to pursue his passion. "In New York, you can have all the excitement of a top-notch tango show or the warmth of a friendly "milonga" (a fast-beat kind of tango) set against the backdrop of Times Square, Central Park and the East Village," he said as he gulps down a bottle of Evian. "It's a meeting point of the Old World and the New. There's no comparison with the diversity that you can find here."

This diversity Santiago mentions refers not only to different venues and atmospheres where one can dance tango, but an increasing number of different "schools" of tango that have developed in New York in the last decade. These "schools" move away from the formal, traditional tango that is mostly danced by Argentines or dancers who have been in Buenos Aires and learned from the "maestros". The new tango styles are based on improvisation that incorporates flashy moves, integrated with the traditional forms. "You have more space to stretch out each movement," Santiago said, "It's fun, creative experimentation."

Tango is a dance rich in history. Today's traditional tango dancers wear their absolute best and emanate sophistication, but the dance originated in the unrefined brothels of the Italian quarter in Buenos Aires during the 1880's. The melancholic quality of the music reflects the feelings of the many lonely immigrants that arrived through the port of Buenos Aires. First described as the "dance of sorrow," the uniqueness of the music, gloomy to the point of misery, remains unchanged to this day, even though a vast diversity of styles of tango have since developed.

In Manhattan the tango scene is intense for both beginners and aficionados, for the young and the old, for traditional and experimental dancers. Tango salons across town offer lessons in different styles, as well as the traditional Argentine tango. Some tango hot spots, like the Belle Epoque, a glamorous restaurant with a turn-of-the-century bar, have an unwritten dress code (dark suits and high heels are a must) while others, like the upstairs loft Triangulo, are more relaxed, appealing to a younger audience.

The New York tango world is claiming new fanatics, Paul Pellicoro, owner of the dance academy Dancesport which opened its doors in 1985, asserts that Broadway shows or Hollywood movies that include tango, like the newly released "Assassination Tango" always attract new students. "Ever since the opening of the show "Forever Tango" (in 2000)" he said, "we've had a steady and increasing flow of tango students. Each movie is a blessing, even if it doesn't do great in the box office." Five hundred students sweat in his institution, which organizes milongas, and tango parties for practice and socializing. "I opened during the renaissance of partner dancing," said Pellicoro, a renowned tango dancer, famous for having taught Al Pacino to dance tango for the movie "Scent of a Woman," "People were tired of dancing to Michael Jackson, and wanted to dance together again." Pellicoro describes a curious phenomenon which occurred after September 11th, 2001; with the economy declining people had cut off their tango lessons, but months after the terrorists attacks, the number of inscriptions increased substantially "People needed to connect with other New Yorkers and tango is a dance of pure connection," said Pellicoro.

Tango dancers claim that once you tango you are hooked. Viviana Parra, 29, is an Argentine tango dancer who also teaches at Danceport to pay the rent of her luminous Chelsea loft. "People often ask me why I dance tango, my answer is simple: once you start, you can't stop," said Viviana, "It is a force that cannot stop." An intense, focused dance which "brings out a lot of issues in yourself," said Santiago "it's embracing another person, possibly a stranger; it's creepy yet attractive, and you're moving very seductively, it's like a constant tease."

Further evidence of the growing number of tango followers is the dramatic increase in the circulation of the monthly magazine Report Tango, which is printed in New York and distributed free of charge in bars, restaurants and dance academies. Editor-in-chief and founder of the magazine, Carlos Quiroga, is still surprised by its success; he and his business partner printed a first edition of 2,000 magazines in 2000 and this year they've printed 5000. "Soon we'll go for more," he said.

Whether young beginners or older amateurs, tango fanatics in New York live and breathe tango. Carina Moeller, an tango aficionado who runs Triangulo, a studio in the Meatpacking District, assures that most tango fanatics dance on average three or four times a week. "So you get to see the same faces, we all know each other," said Carina, "People can come alone because they'll find someone they know to dance with." But the numbers don't balance. Aficionados agree that there is a greater number of women dancers, while good male dancers are scarce. "It works for me, I am in high demand," Santiago said chuckling.

In a formal and uptight place like Belle Epoque, the dancers are older and there is a constant struggle between aficionados and beginners, strain which is palpable as couples struggle for control of the dance floor. A clearly inexperienced middle-aged man, timidly standing in a corner of the dance floor, debated whether to summon the courage to invite a very attractive young girl sitting at a nearby table. He drank up the remainder of his whisky and approached. The beginner's bravado was rewarded. She lifted her eyes and evidently couldn't resist the man in the white double-coated suit offering his hand. Once in the dance floor, they had to struggle to keep up with the more talented couple that arrogantly kept pushing them to the side. But the man in the white suit and shining shoes stared into his partner's eyes, and they both laughed.

On the other hand, the people that dance at Triangulo, an informal living-room style loft, are of many nationalities, with an increasing presence of women from Eastern Europe, Russia and Asia that have no relationship with Argentina and who prefer the more improvised and "fun" tango. Here, younger couples practice their latest moves in a relaxed atmosphere that invites improvisation. A baby-face male dancer draws everyone's attention as his partner wraps her leg around his lower body. The soft-spoken Caleb Marcus keeps his cool, and once off the dance floor his macho forcefulness turns tranquil. "I am all into open style tango," he said, looking at a young girl who had her face buried in her partner's curly shoulder-length hair, both were wearing jeans and All-Stars sneakers.

In addition to the burst of new tango "schools," the explosion of tango-fusion music (that goes hand in hand with the sensation of world music) and the success of albums such as "Gotan Project" and "Bajo Fango Tango" attract more young people to tango. While the older generation usually respects all tango traditions, the graveness, the laced up-shoes and the slicked-back hair, the younger generation wears jeans and sneakers. They are in search of connection, of a good feeling, a good dance, inadvertently going back to the feeling of those lost immigrants. Young tango dancers in New York are reinventing tango by going back to what it was all about in those Italian-run brothels in downtown Buenos Aires.