“El ciego al Teatro Ideal”: 1923 Review of Rivas’ La Mala Ley at the Ideal Theater by Salvadoran Poet Julio Enrique Ávila
- Double-sided 8 ½ x 11 inch sheet, handwritten with signature
- Mexico City , 1923
Mexico City, 1923. Double-sided 8 ½ x 11 inch sheet, handwritten with signature. Stained and slightly torn at fold. Excellent.. Julio Enrique Ávila (1892–1968) was a Salvadoran science professor, journalist, and poet. He is best known for his poetry anthology El mundo de mi jardín (1927). Offered here is a review of María Teresa Montoya in a production of Linares Rivas’ La Mala Ley at Mexico City’s Ideal Theater in 1923. In it, Ávila is captivated not by the play or Montoya’s performance but by the theater’s blind pianist. Translated from Spanish, the review reads in part:
“Staggering slightly and supported by a companion's shoulder, a pale, introspective young man makes his way between the seats. His hair is striking, illuminated by a serene sadness, and bears the color of dusk—as if the last ray of sunlight that once shone for him remained trapped within it… for him, who is blind, completely blind!
“The audience claps impatiently… And he—who knows nothing of impatience—for whom time is endless, who knows no early or late, cannot understand this restless eagerness to push minutes forward, this relentless dissatisfaction, this desperate craving to experience everything—both suffering and joy—within the brevity of a lifetime. [...]
“He must be a dreamer whose illusions lie far beyond reach, a man of fantasy who cannot grasp his dream… His sensitive hands move over the keys as if searching for a path, for a thread of melody to carry them away… They wander, gathering jasmine in a harmonious garden to make an offering… They are like fledgling birds that have mistaken the moon bathing in the pond for their mother… And they follow it endlessly, yet never reach it… and weep because they have been left alone… [...]
“And through the music, my soul has longed to embrace the soul of that lonely man, that artist who dwells in sound, who builds palaces and horizons out of melodies… The soul of that pale, withdrawn young man who knows nothing of impatience, for whom there is no early or late.”
Overall a striking work by a significant figure in Latin American literature.
“Staggering slightly and supported by a companion's shoulder, a pale, introspective young man makes his way between the seats. His hair is striking, illuminated by a serene sadness, and bears the color of dusk—as if the last ray of sunlight that once shone for him remained trapped within it… for him, who is blind, completely blind!
“The audience claps impatiently… And he—who knows nothing of impatience—for whom time is endless, who knows no early or late, cannot understand this restless eagerness to push minutes forward, this relentless dissatisfaction, this desperate craving to experience everything—both suffering and joy—within the brevity of a lifetime. [...]
“He must be a dreamer whose illusions lie far beyond reach, a man of fantasy who cannot grasp his dream… His sensitive hands move over the keys as if searching for a path, for a thread of melody to carry them away… They wander, gathering jasmine in a harmonious garden to make an offering… They are like fledgling birds that have mistaken the moon bathing in the pond for their mother… And they follow it endlessly, yet never reach it… and weep because they have been left alone… [...]
“And through the music, my soul has longed to embrace the soul of that lonely man, that artist who dwells in sound, who builds palaces and horizons out of melodies… The soul of that pale, withdrawn young man who knows nothing of impatience, for whom there is no early or late.”
Overall a striking work by a significant figure in Latin American literature.