Carnival Theater: Uruguay's Popular Performers and National Culture (Cultural Studies of the Americas, V. 15)

Carnival Theater

CULTURAL STUDIES OF THE AMERICAS Edited by George Yúdice, Jean Franco, and Juan Flores Volume 15 Carnival Theater: Uruguay’s Popular Performers and National Culture Gustavo Remedi Volume 14 Cuban Cinema Michael Chanan Volume 13 Ethnography at the Border Pablo Vila, editor Volume 12 Critical Latin American and Latino Studies Juan Poblete, editor Volume 11 Mexican Masculinities Robert McKee Irwin Volume 10 Captive Women: Oblivion and Memory in Argentina Susana Rotker Volume 9 Border Women: Writing from La Frontera Debra A. Castillo and María Socorro Tabuenca Córdoba Volume 8 Masking and Power: Carnival and Popular Culture in the Caribbean Gerard Aching Volume 7 Scenes from Postmodern Life Beatriz Sarlo Volume 6 Consumers and Citizens: Globalization and Multicultural Conflicts Néstor García Canclini Volume 5 Music in Cuba Alejo Carpentier Volume 4 Infertilities: Exploring Fictions of Barren Bodies Robin Truth Goodman Volume 3 Latin Americanism Román de la Campa Volume 2 Disidentifications: Queers of Color and the Performance of Politics José Esteban Muñoz Volume 1 The Fence and the River: Culture and Politics at the U.S.–Mexico Border Claire F. Fox

Carnival Theater Uruguay’s Popular Performers and National Culture

Gustavo Remedi Translated by Amy Ferlazzo Cultural Studies of the Americas, Volume 15

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University of Minnesota Press Minneapolis London

The University of Minnesota Press gratefully acknowledges the financial assistance provided by Trinity College, Hartford, Connecticut, for the translation of this book. Originally published as Murgas: El teatro de los tablados / Interpretación y crítica de la cultura nacional, copyright 1996, Ediciones Trilce, Montevideo, Uruguay. Copyright 2004 by the Regents of the University of Minnesota All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publisher. Published by the University of Minnesota Press 111 Third Avenue South, Suite 290 Minneapolis, MN 55401-2520 http://www.upress.umn.edu Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Remedi, Gustavo. [Murgas. English] Carnival theater : Uruguay’s popular performers and national culture / Gustavo Remedi ; translated by Amy Ferlazzo. p. cm. – (Cultural studies of the Americas; v. 15) “Originally published as: Murgas : el teatro de los tablados : interpretación y crítica de la cultura nacional, c1996” – Verso t.p. Includes bibliographical references and index. ISBN 0-8166-3454-8 (alk. paper) – ISBN 0-8166-3455-6 (pbk. : alk. paper) 1. Carnival – Uruguay. 2. Street theater – Uruguay. 3. Popular culture – Uruguay. 4. Uruguay – Social life and customs. I. Title. II. Series. GT4240.A2 R45 2003 394.25
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Contents

Prologue: Metaphors for Approaching National Culture Acknowledgments 1. The Interpretation of National Culture from the Site of Popular Cultural Practice 2. To Open Up the Night: Carnival and the Struggle for a National, Democratic, and Popular Order

ix xvii

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56

3. Theology of Carnival: The Religious Masks of Carnivalesque Theater

100

4. Bodies, Costumes, and Characters

128

5. Carnival Celebrates the National Popular Epic

152

Conclusion: From the Garden of the Comparsas

177

Appendix: Librettos of Principal Murgas from the Montevideo Carnival, 1988

181

Araca la Cana / 187 Falta y resto / 201 La reina de la Teja / 214 Los diablos verdes / 229 Los saltimbanquis / 241 Don Timoteo / 250 Anti-murga BCG / 260 Notes

269

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– Prologue –

Metaphors for Approaching National Culture After being away from the country for many years, pursuing the ghost of Marcha, I contributed to Uruguay’s Brecha foundation knowing only what journalists told me. One day I decided to see for myself and, without any specific plan, I went to the streets. — Ernesto González-Bermejo, Nacidos para perder

Metaphors are efforts to harness the ideas and problematics that we struggle to define and understand. — James W. Fernandez, Persuasions and Performances: The Play of Tropes in Culture

We are the murga of smoke smoke of the eternal live coal smoke of the time that passes that passes and turns us into smoke. — Mauricio Rosencof, El regreso del Gran Tuleque o mi amor por la Margarita (1987)

Recent and dramatic transformations in the economies, societies, politics, and cultures of Latin America demand a response from the humanities, and particularly from literary criticism. The human sciences must contend with four sets of issues: first, the constant crisis of Latin America’s national cultures, which are continuously disarticulated and reorganized through the realignments and restructurings of the transnational or global economic order;1 second, the pervasive influence of the media, which contributes to the formation of social subjectivities across national borders; third, the erosion of the public sphere, which has been diminished, corporatized,2 bureaucratized, or shattered; and fourth, the insufficiencies, confusions, and failures of the modern emancipatory projects that historically provided the framework and foundation for literary criticism. Regarding the fourth set of concepts, it is now impossible to deny the contradiction between the rhetoric, the humanism, ix

x / Prologue and the promise of development, on one hand, and the catastrophic social and cultural reality created by actual development processes on the other. Alternative projects have not been sufficiently developed or supported; hence they have not fully acknowledged many of the institutions of late modernity and peripheral capitalism as well as many of the cultural transformations of the second half of the twentieth century. Uruguayan society, its vulnerability to the whims and changes of the global political economy notwithstanding, began to manifest these types of cultural transformations from the 1970s onward. The project of visualizing and conceptualizing such changes is not simple. During this period, Uruguay’s society entered an identity crisis and, consequently, a period of redefining its identity. The identity crisis was primarily an outgrowth of a hegemonic crisis consisting of the rise of authoritarianbureaucratic-technocratic regimes at the end of the 1960s; the emergence and establishment of the neoliberal military dictatorship;3 and, in general, a series of social and cultural transformations corresponding to the mode of authoritarian domination4 articulated with the logic of peripheral capitalism in its neoliberal phase. Later, the identity crisis was fed by the illusions and expectations that the democratic processes of the postdictatorship period would put a halt to neoliberal policies. The crisis was nourished by the uncertainties of the so-called transition to democracy, by the disillusionment, confusion, and spirit of defeat and impotence that today, after the (possibly premature or unfounded) celebration of the dictatorship’s fall, accompany the apparent deepening, consolidation, and refinement of the neoliberal state.5 In any case, little remains of the country of immigrants and “fat cows,” of the educated, secular, “European” Uruguay, of the cultured country of “watered-down” humanism, letters, middle classes, pacifism, consensus, and democracy, the Athens of the River Plate, the country that was sought and found in its own literature. These theoretical problems also constitute a crisis of the traditional teaching of language, literature, and criticism as tools for modernization and nation-building, as vehicles of acculturation or emancipation, of understanding and critiquing the national culture. As a response, I propose to shift our attention from the literary archive to other broader bases and criteria in our approach to the national culture. I suggest we look at the cultural practices of the national popular classes and, in this case, at the institution of Carnival and particularly at the murgas. While this shift of focus is relatively arbitrary, nonetheless the murgas and the conglomerate of experiences, references, sensibilities, feelings, images, and desires they evoke became a central and highly symbolic social practice throughout the chaos of the dictatorship and its aftermath. The “murgas’ mode” of reelaborating social experience through

Metaphors for Approaching National Culture / xi

the manipulation of official discourses, mass media, street culture, daily experiences, folklore, and traditional culture has resurrected a form of the original “town meetings.” The murgas’ form of articulation is intended to represent the totality of social experiences, to reveal the other side of modernizing, liberal discourses, to preserve historical memory, to sustain an identity that is needed for any form of action, and to propose a possible utopia. No other cultural manifestations have pursued, simultaneously, such a wide array of projects and intentions. The murga, once ignored, deprecated, or deemed irrelevant and residual, has become a space for expression, representation, and critique of social experiences, with an enormous participation of the popular classes. It has reconfigured the convergence, or confrontation, of the diverse social subjectivities that vie for recognition in Uruguay, ensuring a dénouement in which “the losers are not always the same.” To recognize the centrality of these popular practices and institutions is to see that they besiege the city of letters, simultaneously encircling and subverting it. Understanding the significance, function, and symbolic meaning of the murgas and other popular forms is the key to using them as a means of visualizing, interpreting, critiquing, actually “reading” the national culture as a contradictory conflictive totality. Through the consideration and critique of popular culture, we can reconstruct an ensemble of experiences, responses, and projects within Uruguayan culture and visualize the formation of new subjectivities, actors, and social agencies organized toward social transformation. Literary critics, historians, and sociologists who naively and erroneously conceptualize “the official discourse,” “the literary canon,” or “the upper echelon” and “high culture” of society as “the national culture” fail to see these other entities. Given Carnival’s deep roots, its foretold annual renewal, and its adaptability to change and fads, the proposal of Carnival as an alternative interpretive paradigm for analyzing national culture is safe from the dangers of anachronism, at least for the near future. This interpretive model requires a new positioning that takes us, albeit temporarily, outside of the lettered and “cultured” city. Situating ourselves thus requires new sensory and perceptual tools, sensibilities, aesthetic values, interpretive concepts and categories, and research methods, all of which constitute a reorientation in visualizing and analyzing national culture.

An Outline of the Book As Julio Cortázar claimed of his work, this text consists of many books, but ultimately it is made up of two books. The reader is invited to choose among its possibilities. The first book consists of a general historical

xii / Prologue reflection on our national culture and serves as a foundation or platform for the second. The second book, to which some readers will prefer to turn directly, is centered exclusively in the Theater of Carnival, but its significance is best understood in relation to the first book’s material. Thus the books are mutually dependent, and their meanings stem directly from one another. The first part of the text (chapter 1) traces the evolution of studying Uruguay’s national culture and literature, questions the meaning and utility of traditional modes of cultural and literary analysis, and introduces the bases for a new means of visualizing and interpreting national culture. Instrumental within this section is a reflection on the concerns and missions of the different stages of literary criticism stemming from successive civilizing and emancipatory projects and arriving at a current form of literary criticism that is not only marginalized and dysfunctional but also, in certain respects, an obstacle to the visualization and understanding of the pithy problems of our national culture. The second section (chapter 2) narrates “a history” of the origins and the development of Carnival and Uruguay’s murgas and describes their representations over the past twenty years (“the new era” of the murgas) with particular attention to the circumstances that converted them into a central phenomenon of both the experience and the symbolic universe of the popular national culture. Given that the bibliographic references to Carnival and the murgas are few and fragmented (appraisals and allusions included in passing in articles on other topics, journalistic notes, an occasional short essay), this section attempts to collect them in order to construct a continuous and multidimensional narrative centered in Carnival. In the third part (chapters 3 –5), I offer a series of possible “interpretations” of the carnivalesque culture and, indirectly, an analysis of the national culture from Carnival’s stages. Through a reading and interpretive manipulation of the murgas’ texts and spectacles, I reconstruct some of the diverse ways in which the murgas, by reappropriating and combining the symbolic discourses available in Uruguayan society, situate themselves momentarily outside of history and break into history through Carnival to produce narratives intended to reframe national, social, historical, and everyday experience. I read the murgas, alternatively, as a communal, transcendental ritual whose religious masks, divinities, and theologies I hope to elucidate; as a platform on which bodies, apparitions, and costumes are manipulated with the object of promoting and defending human rights and the human person; and as a public, spectacular event of the streets that invokes tragicomic, melodramatic, grotesque, picaresque, romantic, and epic sensibilities in a game that finally favors the latter among these.

Metaphors for Approaching National Culture / xiii

Finally, the fourth section (appendix) is a register of librettos, published and circulated by the troupes themselves, which contain the written works of several complete murgas. The official culture is not well equipped aesthetically, theoretically, or methodologically to account for the actual sensibilities and experiences of the national culture, and no adequate tools exist for interpreting the national culture. Therefore, a change in interpretive positions requires research beyond the libraries; research that mines the material of social life, participant observation, and collective dialogues and reflections. The inclusion of some librettos in their totality, aside from offering a documentary testimonial of the murgas and placing their texts in circulation for further study, honors the necessity of providing a textual foundation for the interpretations and critiques developed in this work.

What Is the Theater of the Tablados? First and foremost, Montevideo’s murgas should not be confused or conflated with other displays, such as the murgas of Cádiz, the Canary Islands, or Buenos Aires; the struggles between Moors and Christians represented in Caribbean celebrations; the Brazilian Samba schools and trio-eléctricos; the Bolivian diabladas; the promenades and masquerade balls of Paris, Venice, and New Orleans; or the medieval and Rabelaisian Carnival celebrations that Bakhtin described. I refer to Carnival as the ensemble of theatrical representations that occur annually on the tablados, the precarious wooden stages built specifically for Carnival in the neighborhoods of Montevideo’s popular classes. The tablados include the enclosed area surrounding the stages; spectators pay to enter these areas and watch the performances. With the term murgas, I refer to one of the categories of present-day Montevideo’s carnivalesque theater, similar to but distinct from the groups of revelers and the companies of parodists, humorists, and comparsas lubolas that also participate in our Carnival. While Uruguay’s murgas share some features with their counterparts in Cádiz and Tenerife, the tradition of equating or confusing the Uruguayan and Spanish murgas obfuscates the differences between the two forms, particularly their distinct traditions, histories, and roles within their respective national cultures. Long before the visits of the Spanish zarzuela troupes (which included in their spectacles some very curious murgas6), nineteenth-century Montevideo7 witnessed numerous celebrations, carnivalesque dramatizations, and other popular theatrical forms (processions, ceremonies, and dances for Catholic holidays; collections of white, black, and negro lubolo revelers; troupes; masquerades;

xiv / Prologue musical organizations of students, choral groups; one-act farces and pantomimes; gauchesco [cowboy] counterpoints; grotesque creole theater) that shared fundamental characteristics with the murgas and that, in spite of their differences, came to be their antecedents. The uniqueness of this particular genealogy and history, which resulted in a synthesis of social, political, and creative processes, is what Coriún Aharonián suggested when he wrote that although “the word mondongo came from Africa, the mondongo itself did not.”8 The representations of the contemporary murga, as described by Gustavo Diverso or Antonio Iglesias, for example,9 and with their significant differences from the carnivalesque celebrations of the nineteenth century and the murgas consisting of six or seven musician-clowns that appeared between the acts of the zarzuelas, must be visualized as a form of theater. Carvalho Neto described his vision of the Uruguayan Carnival as a “magnificent popular theater.”10 It is a theater consisting of scores of actor-singer-dancer-musicians, with a backdrop and set made for the public, to be viewed by the public, in which many participate within well-defined roles as actors, spectators, Carnival workers, or impresarios of the Carnival harvest, to use the terms of Mauricio Ubal. It is a theater in which, as Milita Alfaro noted, those who wear disguises, act, dance, sing, and express themselves are the actors on the stage, not the people who are transformed in “the public”;11 in which the actors, at least for a year, belong to one cast, are contracted and offered salaries; and through which Carnival as a living celebration has been replaced by a “represented” or spoken Carnival.12 It is a theatricalized Carnival, whose representation is designed and directed by a series of entrusted artists: the lyricists, directors, managers, choreographers, costume designers, stylists, stage managers, scene directors, and so on. The final product is the result of many months of study, preparation, modifications, adjustments, and rehearsals that occur up to the very moment of Carnival. Although the murgas are one of the most representative events of the Carnival, and of the national culture, they are only one of several staged spectacles during Carnival. Parodies, whimsical and extravagant satires, revues, minstrels, comic duos, performances of music, and magic acts also take place on the raised tablados. The theatrical events directed specifically to the black community, namely, the comparsas lubolas and the llamadas, are in many respects part of another Carnival. While the comparsas lubolas occur on the same days as other street spectacles and form part of the general parade, the llamadas usually occur at different times and places. They take place in the main streets and corners of the neighborhoods historically inhabited by the black population, previously the marginalized zones and the outskirts of the walled city. Today, these

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areas (for example, the neighborhoods of Sur and Palermo) are occupied primarily by tenements and semidemolished buildings.

The Current State of Cultural Studies This work was written in its original form between 1987 and 1992 and presented in the form of a doctoral dissertation in 1993. I must emphasize that it is the end product of research on the history and national culture of the late 1980s, a specific and very significant moment for Uruguay. The importance and the particular experiences of this period have only begun to be processed, discussed, and published. Now, several years after the research for this text was completed, its publications in Spanish and English demonstrate the force of the original themes and the significance of the murga’s symbolism in relation to understanding and transforming Uruguayan culture and society. Since this text was written, many original and innovative contributions have been made to the process of visualizing and discussing the national culture, in tune with the proposition of the so-called cultural studies advocated by this book.13 I think of books as testimonials, songbooks, new representational technologies and world visions, graffiti, modes of communication, cultural industries, everyday life and sensibility, the analysis of institutions and discourses (education, medicine, the army, centers of detention or consumption, and so on), the semiotic analysis of the use of space, the body, or public representation. Nevertheless, much remains to be considered and reconsidered. Change will be measurable only when studies of popular culture, and cultural studies in general, become common currency in secondary schools, café conversations, and newspapers as much as in the conference halls and publications of cultural analysts; when a critique of national culture, popular culture, and daily living, a means of objectifying and critically interpreting what we do and how we live, is a popular and widely accepted sentiment; when isolated incidents and momentary gestures become daily habits and institutionalized practices. The arguments, proposals, and documents of this book are intended so that these changes can come about. Finally, if there are passages in the book that represent the popular national culture as if it were being presented to a foreigner, remember that we are all foreigners in certain places within our own cultures. This gaze from the outside, distant and critical, is precisely what Bertolt Brecht invoked at the moment of representing reality in order to change it.

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Acknowledgments I would like to acknowledge all those who, in Minneapolis and Montevideo, contributed to the publication of this book. To Hernán Vidal, who offered nourishment, guidance, and constant criticism as both an adviser to my postgraduate projects and a friend. To Gabriela Remedi and Mario Villagrán, for following this work with caring and enthusiasm, and for their contributions from a great distance. Special appreciation goes to María Bausero, my compañera, whose affection, spirit, and steady presence made this work possible. My thanks also go to the many friends who continuously offered support: Carlos de León for his assistance with Montevideo’s stages; in Minneapolis, to Rafael Varela for his suggestions and corrections of various parts of the manuscript, Carina Belinco for her many hours of dedicated work, Alvaro Tuzman for his enthusiasm in the initial as well as the final stages of the book. I thank the professors of the Department of Spanish and Portuguese at the University of Minnesota in Minneapolis and the faculty of the Interdisciplinary Program of Peace and International Cooperation, particularly Kathryn Sikkink and August Nimtz. The latter department, which is endowed by the MacArthur Foundation, provided the academic and material support for successive research trips to Montevideo. In Montevideo, I owe special thanks to José María Silva, Antonio Iglesias, Carlos Modernell, Raúl Castro, Jorge Esmóris, Joseline Calderoni, Enrique Vidal, Gustavo Diverso, Wilfredo Penco, Benjamín Liberoff, Ana Hirz, Fernando Willat, Armando Halty, Néstor Florio Rey, Jorge Castro Vega, Coriún Aharonián, Gerardo Caetano, José Rilla, Milita Alfaro, Rubén Olivera, Hugo Achugar, and to all those who received me with warmth, interest, and generosity in our conversations about Carnival, popular theater, and popular culture. Their reflections and memories have nourished this work. I also acknowledge, collectively, all the friends, colleagues, and peers who, knowing the nature of the project, offered their support in the form of ideas, commentaries, and perspectives on the topic, as well as suggestions of books and authors, journal articles, notes, and librettos. I am indebted to Pablo Harari, the director of Trilce Editions, Gonzalo Carámbula, the director of the Cultural Division of the Government of xvii

xviii / Acknowledgments Montevideo, and Gerardo Grieco, the director of Cultural Diffusion, for receiving my project with enthusiasm, supporting this line of cultural investigation, and making the publication possible. I would never have begun this project without the scholarship that supported my graduate study in Minneapolis. For this, I thank the members of the committee (in Montevideo) of the International Reciprocal Student Exchange Program at the University of Minnesota. In an attempt to close the hermeneutic circle for a moment, I would like to express my desire that the reflections and proposals of this book eventually reach their principal appointees: the people who in one form or another participate in producing a national popular culture as well as reflecting on that culture. Finally, I have no authority or proprietary right over the librettos included at the end of this work. They are reprinted here to fulfill the need to document, dignify, and divulge a form of expression that is underappreciated, disappearing from our recorded histories, and nearly inaccessible.

– One –

The Interpretation of National Culture from the Site of Popular Cultural Practice A history of Uruguayan literature: Acevedo Díaz, Zorrilla de San Martín, Rodó, Herrera y Reissig, Delmira Agustini, Horacio Quiroga. . . . All of them! Another contribution to the revelation of our great national themes. — Aviso de Ediciones de la Banda Oriental, Búsqueda, November 28, 1991

The chief took his time. Then he proclaimed: “That itches. It itches a lot. . . . ” Then he declared: “but it itches wherever it doesn’t sting.” — Eduardo Galeano, “The Function of Art/2” in The Book of Embraces

Crisis of the Literary Institution and Arguments Supporting Cultural Studies For a long time and because of the particular notion of culture in circulation,1 the national culture of Uruguay has been conceived as an accumulation of artifacts that includes only a few privileged literary works. These works were written and organized according to European forms and conventions (the essay, novel, poetry, and theater). The canon excluded many of the works produced within the national culture, and relatively few texts were considered exemplary or principal. At the same time, the concept of the “cultured Uruguayans” emerged. This minority possessed and enjoyed a certain cultural capital. In particular, they knew how to behave in a certain manner, read certain books and journals, and wrote in a determined style. They were the inhabitants of “the lettered city,” which, embedded at the core of the city-fortress, the city-port, the city as administrative center, reigned over Uruguayans’ social life.2 1

2 / The Interpretation of National Culture The literary and journalistic establishment constituted a substantial sector of the public sphere and was interwoven with political life. At the end of the nineteenth century, Montevideo’s Ateneo exemplified this fusion. A space for elite interaction, identification, and definition, the literary institution was seen as an enclave of consciousness and spirituality immersed in American materiality and “barbarism.”3 Given Uruguay’s distance from European and North American “civilization” and the primacy of the written word as the major mode of communication and symbolic expression, literature became the symbol of civilization in the River Plate nations, particularly in terms of their self-representations to the rest of the world. With the invention of something called the “national literature,” many perceived that this body of work contained the narratives, concepts, metaphors, and symbols of the nation. Moreover, the “national literature” was believed to be a summary and an explanatory synthesis of the national experiences, conscience, or ethos.4 As a product of “notable and sensitive” people, these texts coalesced the fundamental themes of “the national question” and expressed them in an exemplary, peculiar fashion. As a product of the function and privilege of the literary establishment (including literary criticism) and other accredited institutions that defined culture, the ensemble of texts and writers was transformed into a set of icons representing the national culture and the various social agencies behind the national project. This led to a mystifying process whereby the national culture was in reality the official hegemonic culture, constituted primarily by literary artifacts. The national culture did not include all literary artifacts, however, but solely a smaller corpus of venerated and sacred texts, “the literary canon.” Literary criticism, which was in part responsible for these processes, was the beneficiary of a status unparalleled among cultural institutions. Critics and writers alike were rewarded with great social prestige throughout most of the twentieth century. Given the centrality of “the lettered city” and the belief that literature was the expression and the spirit of the national culture, literary criticism was transformed into the science, psychoanalysis, and medicine of the national problematics, the conscience and the expression of the so-called national being. This attribute of literary criticism remained constant, at least until the 1970s. Uruguay’s cultural panorama of the late twentieth century cannot be reduced to the world of letters and literature, however. Today the canon captures neither the hegemonic nor the counter-hegemonic cultural practices of recent decades. Some of the most significant “texts” are found in other environments and cultural practices and are notably distinct from the texts and cultural processes of nineteenth-century liberalism, which themselves gave rise to the preeminence of literature. A literary canon

The Interpretation of National Culture / 3

and its criticism cannot fully encapsulate Uruguay’s national culture in the years prior to the 1973 coup d’état, during the military dictatorship, and in the period of democratic restoration. The institutions of a modern urban culture produced an enormous and diverse assembly of spaces, expressive forms, and everyday practices outside of the literary institution. They were constructed in the instances of social interactions, cultural exchanges, and articulations of public opinions. The spaces of such meetings, discussions, and dialogues are ubiquitous: bars, neighborhood markets, friends and relatives’ homes, workplaces, schools, religious centers, neighborhood festivities, city walkways, labor associations, social and cultural clubs, assemblies, cooperatives, grassroots organizations, dances, concerts, Carnivals, art centers and exhibits, ceremonies and demonstrations in the plazas, streets, parks, and fairs. These practices and institutions of everyday life created a network of instances and places that contributed to social gatherings and cultural and symbolic exchanges, all of which resulted in the discussion and negotiation of the meanings of social experience. Through these dialogues and processes, individuals could position themselves within a social reality and vis-à-vis the diverse actors and institutions of that reality. They could represent themselves as well as set trends for the rest of society and the state. With the repression and censorship of the military dictatorship, many of these spaces and cultural practices were converted into the strongholds of an endangered democratic national culture, enclaves of resistance and opposition to the “barbarism” of the neoliberal capitalist model, especially in its foundational, highly militarized phase. In such a context, neither literature nor the so-called belles-lettres could represent many of the expressions, emotions, and thoughts of daily living. Literature could not contain the ideological and aesthetic production that was in circulation and available to the society. On the contrary, much more of this production was available in other types of media such as testimonials, monologues, and oral confessions, discussions, gestures, rituals, and the many customs that inundate daily life and urban experiences,5 in forms that deviated from the canon’s literary conventions. As a consequence of this crisis, the national culture was now perceived as a dismembered assemblage of unconnected subcultures coexisting with varying degrees of harmony, conflict, and contradiction. Their success and endurance in earlier periods notwithstanding, official discourses could not capture or represent these subcultures.6 As writers and critics saw that a network of practices, discourses, and issues within the national culture resisted conventional literary forms and that many issues were neither described nor describable in such

4 / The Interpretation of National Culture forms, a crisis of the “literary paradigm” developed and forced a series of “departures” within the discipline. These deviations, which questioned and expanded the traditional tenets of literary criticism, proved to be symptoms of a fundamental crisis of the discipline. In the collection Paralaje y circo (1987), for example, Alvaro Barros Lémez considers the relationships between social life, communication, literary creation, and ideology. Barros Lémez looks at these ties to explore various approaches to the study of society and its many forms of appropriating historical and social realities. Included in the collection are considerations of pamphlets, circulars, cartoons and anecdotes and their relation to other literary forms, as well as the ideological uses of mass media.7 Mabel Moraña’s collection of essays, Memorias de la generación fantasma (1988), considers Uruguayan culture under authoritarianism, the alternative forces, such as canto popular or popular song, that emerged within the constrictions of the Panopticon, as well as the meaning, function, and tasks of contemporary literary criticism. With regard to the latter, Moraña asks: within this panorama, does literary criticism hold any significance as a didactic accompaniment to literary texts, as an explanation and interpretation of texts, as a promoter of texts, as an independent technical activity or is it restricted to provoking a dialogue between peers in an academic environment?8 Abril Trigo’s work Caudillos, estado, nación: Literatura, historia e ideología en Uruguay (1990) demonstrates a resonance of literature, philosophy, historiography, theater, sociology, and politics, measuring and mirroring the ways that these discourses register the diverse ideological projects inscribed in the cultural history of the country. In his work, Trigo considers “the temperament of the modern Uruguayan state, the origins of the state, how one dialogues and identifies with the Uruguayan nation, what configures or defines that nation, and how and where it is made manifest.”9 Finally, Hugo Achugar’s compilation Cultura(s) y nación en el Uruguay de fin de siglo (1991) is a collection of the positions presented at a 1990 seminar entitled “Cultural Projects and Politics in Uruguay on the Eve of the Twenty-first Century.” Artists, historians, sociologists, anthropologists, contractors, financiers, and cultural directors of different national organizations met to discuss various themes including national identity and viability, public and private cultural administration, the relationship between official culture and alternative culture, cultural production and the formation of public cultural opinion.10

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In producing these texts, critics focused on nontraditional issues and symbolic discourses, incorporating problems that pertain to national culture beyond the canonical literature. In that sense, their texts move beyond traditional boundaries and definitions of culture, literature, and literary criticism. Nevertheless, these innovations have not succeeded in reformulating literary criticism so that it may accommodate new discoveries and approaches toward national culture within the disciplinary tradition. How can the institution of literary criticism survive the displacement of the literary paradigm as it was originally established? How can we systematize and institutionalize responses to the crisis of the literary establishment so that this crisis and its departures are converted into a new theory and discipline? The “departures” mentioned here are not orphans, arising suddenly, unexpectedly, and without precedents. They are related to a series of transformations that literary criticism had confronted previously. In Uruguay and throughout Latin America as well as in departments of Latin American literature in European and North American universities, literary criticism has been forced to adapt in the face of numerous historical and theoretical challenges. In terms of situating literature and literary criticism within “a broader cultural problematic,” a first step in revitalizing and decentralizing the canon came with “the sociohistorical critique,” a tendency adopted in Uruguay by many critics of the generation of 1945. The sociohistorical critics resisted a reductive approach to literature; instead they considered literature a social product, an objectification, reelaboration, and representation of social experiences, an inscription of the perspectives, proposals, sensibilities, and ideologies of distinct historical projects. Through literature as a starting point, this approach sought to analyze the totality of social and cultural production. In spite of the limitations that can be attributed to any form of representation or mediation (like statistics and maps, for example), literature was believed to be a particularly useful artifact for documenting the many ways to assign meaning and make sense of the social experience. These critics believed that literature (in the forms of novels and plays) could draw a map of the universe of symbolic discourses circulating within any given culture and period of time. Literature could situate the historical experiences that were buried or suppressed by scientific discourses or the hegemonic representations and theories in circulation. In contrast with other representations of reality, literature explored human experience more profoundly and with more attention to complexity, particularly because it used terms that were more profound and complex than those found in the “realism” of the social sciences and the “common-sense” constructions available at the level of the everyday. Given the nature of language, conventions,

6 / The Interpretation of National Culture and literary liberties, literature and literary criticism could open doors to territories unexplored by the social sciences and visible through the irreflexive experience of the everyday. Although the sociohistorical critique was notably distinct from traditional literary criticism, the new body of criticism sustained a focus on the traditional canon. Sociohistorical critics made some modifications and additions to this canon, however, and they problematized canonical literature with new perspectives and critical theories. In accordance with the goals and functions of counter-hegemonic cultural projects, the canon was adapted to include works that incorporated emerging, critical visions and the perspectives and experiences of the popular classes. Nevertheless, this type of criticism concerned itself only with certain literary and theatrical forms, failing to broaden the spectrum to include other types of symbolic productions and exchanges. Thus it supported the boundaries that arbitrarily select certain genres and literary works (the canon) from an expansive spectrum of literary works as well as other “texts” of the social sciences and, above all, the expressions and discourses of the popular classes. The most recent efforts to preserve the ontological status of literature and shape the discipline into a space for reflection and cultural criticism defined literature as “just one discursive genre” among many genres that constitute “a system of discourses.” In practice, this theoretical innovation incorporated a new series of discourses (religious spectacles, architectural language, books sold by the chapter, advertisements, declarations, popular theater, etc.) into the fold as legitimate objects of literary criticism, displacing the discussion of the definition of literature to a second tier. This strategy worked under the premise that all social practices are symbolic/narrative acts and literary criticism became the interpretation of the network of practices and symbolic discourses in circulation within national, continental, and global contexts. As a consequence, a great deal of the training and cultural criticism in Latin American Literature programs (especially at universities in Europe and North America and to a lesser degree in Latin America and Uruguay) consists of the analysis of symbolic discourses and narratives that circulate in Latin America. More often than not, we speak and hear of cultural studies rather than literary studies.11 Relative to the social and historical situation (within which meanings are attributed and function), symbolic discourses are made up of “mediations” to approach particular national cultures, Latin American culture, or the ways in which Latin America is part of a global culture. Still, two questions remained unanswered by this new form of cultural studies. First, critics had to determine the issues and themes that constitute the privileged objects of cultural studies. Second, cultural critics

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had to design the criteria of analysis, interpretation, and cultural criticism; they needed to formulate a hermeneutics, a position from which to read texts. Due to the social and political priorities of the sociohistorical critique, its proponents first wanted to replace the study and critique of hegemonic discourses with the study and critique of “the culture of the working classes” or “popular culture.” This task, however, presented a series of difficulties that remain unresolved. For Hernán Vidal, these obstacles are located in the functionalist and immanentist criteria that have generally supported the notions of popular culture and the popular classes and that have prevented the emergence of new disciplinary objects and interpretive, critical adaptations to the study of national culture. As Vidal explained, within leftist and functionalist perspectives the popular classes were viewed as an ensemble of classes and factions negatively affected by the incorporation of local economies into the international capitalist market and the resulting subordination and economic, political, and ideological dependence.12 These social sectors would be potential allies to a national liberation movement promoted by organized political forces or to efforts to form a postcapitalist state. Nevertheless, given the changes in social relations that have come about through successive renegotiations and reinsertions in the international market, the definitions of the popular classes and the derivative concept of popular culture change over time and require constant revision, redefinition, and application. These notions must be subjected to successive redefinitions corresponding to the rearticulations of class and the strategic considerations of political agencies at particular historical moments. In this sense, the concept of popular culture is clearly a theoretical construct, an interpellation used by agents and agencies for political reasons, projected as the property of the popular classes but aimed at garnering their participation and support. The interpretations and imputations of popular cultural practices therefore are mediated by a notion of popular culture that corresponds less to reality than to how these political agencies would like the popular classes to behave and position themselves. In this process, such agencies may replace “what is” in reality with “what should be.” When the theory of popular culture is not actualized or put into circulation with the speed, comprehensiveness, inclusiveness, and articulation required by its own logic, it becomes an obsolete construct without any basis in the experiences or discourses of the popular classes. The concept of popular culture can no longer incorporate the reality of these classes, “what they are,” nor even “what they should be.” Distinct from the functionalist approach, Vidal continues, the immanentist approach understands popular culture as the “original and

8 / The Interpretation of National Culture authentic” property of the popular classes. Popular culture is often associated with a popular “spirit” or “being” that is preserved and manifested throughout time. At other moments it is conceived as the popular mentalities, idiosyncrasies, and customs presumed to be uniform, static, and immutable. These immanent conceptualizations, elevated to rhetoric and ideology, serve a number of populist sectors and projects that use the archetypical and mythological notions of “the people,” “authentic popular traditions,” or “the popular idiosyncrasy and essence” to justify and universalize their own perspectives, interests, and missions. Such projects manipulate history and traditions for their own benefit, doing possible harm to the popular classes themselves, and appoint themselves to the role of directing social processes. Even when such theories are not consciously intended to manipulate the popular classes in order to maintain the status quo or promote a reactionary political project, the use of these concepts contributes to the illusion of a uniform and genuinely popular culture that contains the keys (pure, ancestral, immutable, liberating) to a prescribed worldview and sociopolitical progress. They may romanticize and suggest teleologies from the isolated or fleeting negations, resistances, and alternative proposals that may have been intended as popular efforts toward negotiation with and acceptance of hegemony. These theories adamantly negate that the acceptance of someone else’s hegemony is the fundamental issue, and apart from any essentialist or millenarian metaphysics, these popular acts of resistance or alternative proposals are often in part or entirely appropriations of narrations and ideologies produced and placed in circulation by organized agencies located outside of the popular realm. With his notion of “popular cultures,” Néstor García Canclini hoped to overcome the obstacles presented by both functionalist and immanentist explanations of the popular that distort and obscure the cultural practices of the popular classes.13 He developed the concept by combining Antonio Gramsci’s definition of hegemony with Pierre Bourdieu’s theory of the reproduction of hegemonic culture and the administration of symbolic capital. From there, García Canclini argued that popular cultures would be the result of an unequal appropriation of the hegemonic symbolic supply. In response to this proposal, however, José J. Brunner called attention to the fact that García Canclini attempted to redefine “the popular culture” by using a theoretical framework that denies its existence.14 On one hand, as Bourdieu argued, popular cultures are a result of the ways in which the popular classes internalize their domination.15 On the other hand, Gramsci, for whom “culture” is the expression of an existing hegemony, postulated that the popular classes would not be in a position to have their own culture.16 Brunner’s writings suggest

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that García Canclini’s concept is influenced by Gramsci’s definition of folklore and all that that implies for the Gramscian theory of culture. As we seek an alternative to the problematic concept of popular culture,17 as well as an object and a hermeneutics of cultural criticism, it may be wise to abandon the notion altogether and speak instead of different cultural practices and experiences that occur in popular spaces, attending simultaneously to the spatial differentiation of cultural production. The social division of labor and the compartmentalization, differentiation, and stratification of social spaces all lead to inequalities of cultural access, cultural availability, and a differentiation of experiences and cultures. Thus, groups live different personal and social experiences, think and behave differently, possess and produce different cultures, and move about through different maps of symbol and meaning. In sum, social groups have different world visions and realities.18 What matters here is not deciding if cultures can be differentiated as “superior” or “inferior,” but recognizing the existence of different cultural spheres. This recognition illuminates an ensemble of multiple cultural practices and discourses occurring throughout the many spaces and instances of the social and daily lives of the popular classes: practices and discourses that are internally and externally contradictory; a product of the reelaborations of circulating cultural materials of various, diverse origins; a product of the tensions inherent in a network of social institutions that condition social action;19 not necessarily resistant or counter-hegemonic; fundamentally subjected to and integrated with the hegemonic culture; to a lesser extent subversive, centrifugal, utopian, or subjected to counter-hegemonic proposals. This multiplicity, in any case, is determined by the work of a group of agencies organizing around specific social and historical experiences, producers of symbolic discourses ordered by those experiences and purveyors of the meaning of existence and action. Departing from the theories discussed above, the following section considers two complementary concepts that together shape the theoretical basis of this work: the popular public sphere, a reformulation of Jürgen Habermas’s theory of the public sphere; and the notion of popular transculturators, a product of Angel Rama’s theory of narrative transculturation.

The Popular Public Sphere By public sphere, Habermas understood the dominion or the assemblage of spaces of social life where public opinion is formed.20 This concept of “public sphere” is particularly suggestive if we conceive it as a zone or space where cultural activities take place. A portion of the public sphere is formed with each conversation among people who congregate in certain spaces to form a public. With the

10 / The Interpretation of National Culture emergence and development of the bourgeoisie, this sector of private individuals needed and sought to communicate about public matters, the role of the state and all the issues that affected their class interests. In the spaces where they created such dialogues, they formed a public. The places and institutions that they frequented (cafés, saloons, family gatherings, business meetings, rallies, dances, performances and spectacles, brothels, social clubs, political organizations, etc.) provided the opportunity for the construction of a public and a sphere in which public opinion was collectively formed. When the public expanded, these public opinion construction sites required the means of communication, dissemination, sensitization, and influence that would complement, replace, or simulate the encounter in real space and time. Theater, newspapers, essays, and novels performed these functions in the nineteenth century. With this expansion came the almost immediate fragmentation, differentiation, and stratification of the public sphere and the public itself. The development and function of the public sphere thus reproduced a conflictive relationship among society, citizenry, and public. First, since citizenship is a status that is historically reclaimed, conquered, and socialized, the spaces occupied by the citizenry are affected by different social sectors’ access to that status. Eventually, the spaces of internal negotiation among the bourgeoisie became spaces of negotiation between the bourgeoisie and other classes. Second, the rights of the citizenry (its access to determined spaces, practices, and social roles) are also a result of conquest and struggle. Third, even if all citizens had the formal right to participate openly in the public sphere and constitute a public, for economic and sociocultural reasons, in reality all citizens would not share the same access to the constitutive spaces of the public sphere or the social roles available in those spaces. In time and with the developments of capitalism, the bourgeois state, the social division of labor, the complication of social administration, bureaucratization, and differentiation among regions, neighborhoods, and cultures, the public sphere was no longer a space in which citizens congregated to discuss and form their opinions. It became fractured, and its meaning and function as a space of expression, encounter, negotiation, and decision for citizens were neutralized, twisted, and adulterated. This process of fragmentation and decompensation was nourished by a series of phenomena: the development of private spaces that excluded most citizens in which national and foreign “experts” were convened by particular interest groups to share information and make political, economic, military, and cultural decisions; the separation and invisibility of the permanent institutions of the bourgeois state21 and, as a consequence, the erosion of democratic life;22 the appropriation of the spaces and forms

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of public expression by a handful of corporations;23 the consolidation of small groups of corporations that share control of the industry of mass culture worldwide; the monopolization of the means of production, storage, circulation, access, and control of information and communication; the limitation of access to the rights, goods, and services of urban life; and finally, the crisis of the mechanisms of social and political organization and representation, which turned away from their function of motivating, organizing, and coordinating social praxis on individual levels and in turn nourished feelings of apathy, inertia, and debilitated social empowerment. A by-product of the deterioration of the public sphere and its failure to serve as a space of encounter and negotiation is the multiplication of disconnected and disarticulated cultural spaces and practices. This phenomenon allows us to theorize the popular public sphere as a fraction of the broader public sphere, made up of a collection of spaces for social and symbolic encounter, exchange, and negotiation that are effectively within the reach of the popular classes and where the individuals and organized collectives of the popular classes are protagonists in cultural production, exchange, and criticism. As full agents in the spaces and practices of this sphere, the popular classes contribute and shape public opinion and sensibilities, participate in the discussion of public issues and sociopolitical relationships and networks, and, with varying degrees of success, attempt to bring their influence to the public sphere in terms of the sociopolitical tasks and destiny of the nation. The popular public sphere is found in the gestures and conversations of workplaces, buses, lines, markets, fairs, cafés, neighborhood meetings among individuals and organizations of collective action, protests, rallies, and parades, parties, dances, ceremonies, and other public spectacles. This notion of the popular public sphere as the foundation for the study and criticism of culture enables us to take as our object of study the assemblage of symbolic practices and discourses articulated in the spaces where the popular classes propose and negotiate the meanings of their experiences, world visions, social roles, relationships with society and the state, and their role in social transformation. The constitutive discursive system of this sphere permits, even demands, a vision of a culture that is ostensibly popular but that does not reside outside of the spheres of the influence and coercion of state and social institutions. The popular public sphere also yields to laws and to market conditions, and, by its public nature, permits access to a diversity of people and institutions outside of the popular classes. Looking into the popular public sphere allows us to “discover” the various means of rearticulating discourses and expressions that are in

12 / The Interpretation of National Culture circulation and accessible to the popular classes. They may also describe the ensemble of problems experienced among the popular classes. Nevertheless, unlike the concepts of the popular already discussed, in spatial terms a popular public sphere implies a space, a field, a circuit or a terrain that contains a dispute over the appropriation of circulating symbolic capital: first, of the symbolic/narrative production and the proposed meanings elaborated by the popular classes in their daily life — related to the sensory experience of reality — but also of the meanings articulated in other spaces and transported by mass communication, the meanings diffused through formal education and other cultural artifacts that enter the popular zones (newspapers, magazines, advertisements, posters, fashion, gestures, etc.), and those derived through contact and exchange with “visitors” or through “excursions” to other areas. Therefore, in the ways that they are absorbed by the cultural practices of the popular classes, discourses of the hegemonic classes continue to be part of our academic discussion. These hegemonic discourses also constitute part of the analysis in the ways that they are interpreted, critiqued, and reelaborated by the discourses of the popular public sphere. Thus, the popular public sphere is not only an object of study; it is a site from which we can visualize, interpret, and critique all symbolic, nationalcultural production; in other words, it is a hermeneutics of the national culture.

The Popular Transculturators The concept of popular transculturators, whose cultural and symbolic production will be discussed later in the text, is significant in the analysis of a popular public sphere. For Fernando Ortiz, transculturation is a process in which one culture acquires parts of other cultures, loses part of its earlier form, and is synthesized into a new culture.24 Departing from Ortiz’s concept and focusing particularly on the production of novels, Angel Rama defined narrative transculturators as a group of authors who refuse to simply copy or diffuse hegemonic culture, foreign cultures, or literary vanguards or to reproduce local or regional traditional cultures. Instead, such novelists, namely, José María Arguedas, Gabriel García Márquez, Juan Rulfo, and João Guimarães Rosa, perform within their works the various processes of “selecting, rejecting, rescuing, discovering, combining and synthesizing” elements from both foreign and native cultures.25 The result is a fundamentally new culture. The content of this new culture is as meaningful as the forms of structuring and the materials or expressive means used by all producers (languages, ideologies, communication technologies, representational genres, metaphors, figures, symbols, myths, etc.). Rama wrote:

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When I consider the boom writers, I think that Gabriel García Márquez’s achievement is the management of a repertoire of artistic forms that he has not taken from the European vanguard. He read Joyce, Woolf, and Kafka, but that is not what he put into One Hundred Years of Solitude. What is there, in that novel, is a repertoire of forms, not just themes, but forms, means of expression. The construction of the gag, the joke, the fragmentary mode of artistic elaboration that pertains to the traditional forms of language and speech among coastal Colombians.26 As García Márquez himself described, that repertoire comes from the very world of those Colombian vallenatos. Yet an excessive emphasis on the written word and the novel as a privileged expressive medium pervades Rama’s writings. Perhaps he failed to recognize that transculturation cannot be reduced to a combination of diverse symbols and ways of thinking collapsed onto paper, that transculturation consists of a broad array of aesthetic and symbolic modes of production among which literature constitutes merely one form. Here lies the drama, and the great challenge, of Arguedas, of García Márquez, and of so many other Latin American authors who, wanting to write their national cultures as universal cultures, find that other cultures offer resistance to their texts. Or they find, at the least, that their literature is partial or unjust because it cannot articulate what is perhaps most essential to the other culture, that which possibly is not literary or write-able. Is this not the limit encountered by the extraordinary novelist Alejo Carpentier upon trying to narrate the American Baroque and Afro-American culture? Writing has its representational limits. Aesthetic forms with no body, texts and their readings contain strength in their ability to diffuse information and stimulate the imagination, but find in these same strengths their aesthetic and sensory limitations. By popular transculturators, unlike the novelists that illustrate Rama’s theory, I refer to all those cultural producers who perform acts of transculturation “in” the popular public sphere. Through their elaborations and re-creations, they attempt to draw ties and distinctions within and among the diverse worlds and histories of the popular classes as well as the national and transnational elites. As a result of the process of revealing cultural offerings, selections, omissions, rescues, searches, incorporations, combinations, and syntheses, the creations of popular transculturators express the concerns, values, reasons, or sensibilities of the popular public sphere as well as those circulating through other cultural spheres. They demonstrate visions of the world and of reality as well as representational, expressive, and communicative visions.

14 / The Interpretation of National Culture Unlike novelists, popular transculturators do not privilege those forms that are not common or privileged in the popular public sphere, such as the forms and texts of the literary canons. Since these texts would impede or limit their work as transculturators, they work with reelaborations of current, preferred expressive discourses at the level of the popular public sphere. In spite of this, their productions consist as much of elite or canonical discourses as their own popular discourses (“their own” discourses in the sense that they are used and recycled in determined moments for self-expression, and in virtue of their situation of occasional accessibility and utility.) This is clear, for example, in the murgas of Carnival, which must be understood as “machines of transculturation” that construct a model, new form of visualizing, problematizing, and criticizing the national culture. In sum, placing the popular public sphere and popular transculturators at the center of a cultural critique fundamentally changes the object and the hermeneutics of cultural analysis. The resulting analysis considers a series of new historical and cultural realities and an ensemble of unavoidable problems and conceptual and theoretical fissures. This retelling of the evolution of cultural criticism is intended to illuminate the causes of “the crisis of the literary paradigm” in Uruguay, and in the discipline of Latin American literary criticism in general. It also details the problems that criticism encounters by continuing to operate from a foundation of obsolete concepts, criteria, and goals. Through a historical and critical review of the various hermeneutics that have been operative in literary criticism, this analysis will attempt to propose a paradigmatic transformation through a critical reformulation of those earlier methodologies.

Stages of Literary Criticism in Uruguay Literature during the Era of Nation-Building Given that few European literary forms and conventions appeared in nineteenth-century Uruguay, and in spite of the importance attributed to those forms by elites who favored modernization, literary criticism was very limited at the end of the nineteenth century. In tune with positivism and the project of adapting production and the state to British hegemony and its system of free trade, late-century criticism introduced the European naturalist and realist novels and took part in the contest with neoromanticism, neoclassicism, creolism, and modernism.27 Around 1890, Víctor Pérez Petit introduced realism in the novel and then European modernism. Samuel Blixen elaborated on the naturalist novel and

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César Miranda became the critic that sustained modernism. José Rodó, for his part, focused on Darío, Gutiérrez, and Montalvo.28 Writers and critics rejected all things Spanish, objects and ideas that were perceived as the residue of colonialism, mercantilism, backwardness, and Catholicism. Some authors, like Esteban Echeverría and José Pedro Varela, did not hide their fascination with Anglo-Saxon pragmatism or the leveling, disrespectful, faustian force of the pioneer, seen as the engines of progress and emancipation. Others, however, like Rodó, warned early on of the “danger” of U.S. imperialism and the relentless rule of capitalist “instrumental reason,” particularly to ethical and aesthetic thought, and demonstrated their preferences for an Americanness closer to French ideals and the Greco-Latin “humanist tradition.” Literature in general and the essay in particular were occasions to discuss the social and political reality of the country, its successes and failures, and the means of progress and order for the nation, or to propose and justify the cultural models that should be emulated and implemented. Late nineteenth-century Uruguayan intellectualism, and particularly literature and literary criticism, created the foundations upon which literary criticism throughout the twentieth century was formulated. Literature was understood as European styles and texts. In correspondence with the imported aesthetic theories of Europe, by providing proof of the consolidation of bourgeois cultural hegemony, and for its supposed capacity to incorporate and articulate dialogically all available discourses, the novel was considered the superior form. For the Latin American romantics literature was a way to express the projects of appropriating the reality that ensnared them and constructing European modernity and civilization upon American materiality.29 More importantly, literature was considered a tool for nation-building and social progress. For the positivists, literature was a medium for understanding the reality of humans in “their own mediums” or for “the human condition” in general. Soon after the height of positivism, and given their capacity for “representing reality,” the novel and the naturalist/realist theater were converted into artificial means for experimenting with and elaborating theses on social behavior or individual psychology, classes, ethnicities or genders, nature and society. They provided the spaces for reflecting on the problem that Ariel had with “cultivating America,” thought of as raw materiality — Calibán. Given the relative scarcity of literary production in the region, this mentality was supported by European models and thus was expressed through Europe’s “superior” and “cultured” expressive forms, which were in turn understood as the “universal” literature and culture. The study of literature and its diffusion was related to the need to learn and understand “universal” values, mores, and “the human condition.” These latter were to be

16 / The Interpretation of National Culture institutionalized and converted into norms with the purpose of constructing, first, illustrative elites and later a literate, conscious, responsible, and mature citizenry that would bear the conscience and the manner of comportment deemed necessary for the national bourgeoisie’s project of social organization. The alphabetization and educational project of José Pedro Varela (the flag-bearer of positivism and founder of public, lay, free, and obligatory education) was based on these theories and goals. The Varelian project was originally implemented during the military dictatorship of Colonel Lorenzo Latorre in 1875, experienced a decline during the administration of Captain General Máximo Santos and the civil governments that followed, and was revitalized in the era of Batllismo during the first quarter of the twentieth century. In terms of the development of literary criticism, the earliest national histories and literary criticisms appeared at the outset of the twentieth century: Historia crítica de la literature uruguaya (1912) by Carlos Roxlo; Proceso histórico del Uruguay (1920), which contains an appendix dedicated to “intellectual evolution,” Crítica de la literatura uruguaya (1921), and Proceso intelectual del Uruguay (1930), all written by Zum Felde at the request of the National Commission for the Commemoration of the Centenary; and Historia sintética de la literatura uruguaya (1931), a product of the conferences organized by Carlos Reyles at the University Auditorium, in connection with the Centenary Commission’s celebration of the nation’s first “100th anniversary.” These compilations had no reason to distance themselves from the current growth in regional and national literary production. They were situated solidly within the project of national affirmation and constructing a national conscience, a national state of being. This project, which occupied Uruguayan intellectuals at the end of the nineteenth century, had the objective of cementing both a national historical accord between the two main contenders for power and the insertion and (real and symbolic) subordination of Uruguay within the British orbit. In effect, the project of constructing nationality was begun not long after Uruguayan leaders forged the apparatus of the modern bourgeois state during the military dictatorship of 1875–86, and it was characterized by an anxious struggle for national viability.30 Fears were supported by a number of phenomena: the belief that the republic was no more than a small, empty prairie containing a city that was little more than an old fortress and port; the latent threat signified by the Argentine and Brazilian bourgeoisies’ quest for territorial expansion; the continuous economic, political, and military pressure and influence of European powers; and finally, the difficulty of forming a national accord among the dominant classes (the landowners, bankers, and merchants) in terms of implementing capitalism in Uruguay and the country’s insertion as an

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agro-export economy according to the international division of labor. As soon as the bourgeois state was consolidated under British hegemonic power (the British need for raw materials and capital investments), the country’s nascent capitalism was defined by direct foreign control of the cattle-export business (wool, leather, and meat) and the corresponding infrastructures of finance, transportation, and urban services.31 As historian Méndez Vives describes, President Julio Herrera y Obes complained of feeling like the overseer of a large ranch whose main office was in London.32 Interestingly, at that very moment toward the end of the nineteenth century, the first “national histories” were compiled: Elementos de la historia de la República Oriental del Uruguay (1880) by Isidoro de María; Historia de la dominación española en el Uruguay (1882) by Francisco Bauzá; Artigas (1884) by Carlos María Ramírez; Artigas, estudio histórico y documentos justificativos (1886) by Justo Maeso and Clemente Fregeiro. “Narrating (national) history” and “fixing” it in writing was intimately tied to the task of mediating or negotiating the course, model, and meaning of the national experiences of the diverse power groups and interests within the country as well as the national bourgeoisie and the political, financial, and commercial metropolitan enclaves. With a purpose similar or complementary to that of national histories and journalistic essays, historical novels, short stories, dramas, patriotic poems, and legends began to appear soon after their predecessors. These fictions conveyed and diffused myths of origin, the scenes, social caricatures, heroes, and, in general, the “foundational narratives” of the national conscience: Leyenda patria (1879), Tabaré (1888), and La epopeya de Artigas (1910) by Juan Zorrilla de San Martín; Ismael (1888), Nativa (1890), El combate de la tapera (1892), Grito de gloria (1893), and Lanza y sable (1914) by Eduardo Acevedo Díaz; Campo (1896), Gaucha (1899), and Gurí (1901) by Javier de Viana; Beba by Carlos Reyles; José Enrique Rodó’s essays El que vendrá (1897) and Ariel (1900); the adaptation of Gutiérrez’s novel Juan Moreira, Juan Soldado (1893) by Orosmán Moratorio; M’hijo el dotor (1903), La gringa (1904), and Barranca abajo (1905) by Florencio Sánchez. The same function characterized the first artistic pieces of other media produced to convey the national “state of being” and the national “epic”: the paintings of Juan Manuel Blanes and Diógenes Héquet, the monuments of José Belloni, and the national dance, Gerardo Grasso’s Pericón, for example. This foundational period of constructing a bourgeois national hegemony was not without its conflicts and tensions, exemplified by the struggles among the bourgeoisie and their political bands, among doctors and caudillos, among the various philosophical (Jesuit, mason, Protestant, spiritualist, rationalist, positivist, neoidealist) and aesthetic

18 / The Interpretation of National Culture movements (naturalist and realist, new romantic, indigenist, modernist) that were expressed in the university, in the University Society, at the Athenaeum (“cultural center of the nation”33), in the Catholic Club, and in the pages of the university annals, the journals La Razón, El Bien Público, El Siglo, El Día, and El Ideal, as well as in the avenues and public meeting places, plazas, town halls, cenacles, brothels, theaters, exclusive social clubs, parks, beaches, promenades, expos, book stores, cafés, and other centers that celebrated the belle époque.34 A correlation existed between the project of constructing the imaginary nation, through which the bourgeoisie sought to rationalize, legitimize, and embellish its project of social production, and the forms of social encounters and circulations of the necessary ideas, feelings, and sensibilities. Among the latter, newspapers, literary texts, and speeches constituted the principal media for organizing and giving shape to the public sphere. Literature became the ark, the stone tablets upon which the nation was carved out, and an “imaginary meeting place” exclusively for those who wanted to participate in the public sphere, that is, in the discussions and decisions of national and state issues. To privilege literature or the journals and newspapers of the elites, to diffuse and teach the contents of these texts, was to propagate the image of the nation, as well as to justify its meaning and value. Literacy and the teaching of these sacred texts were essential for re-creating and perpetuating the construction of the bourgeois nation. Painted images and national symbolic paraphernalia filled a visual void; national musical and dance forms accompanied public rituals and official, patriotic ceremonies. As components of a total spectacle, poems, novels, history books, editorials, plazas, buildings, banners, flags, armor, paintings, accords, and colloquialisms all produced the idea that the nation was a total, organic, complete, and meaningful phenomenon. The idea of a unified nation attempted to justify, to the powerful as well as the disempowered, the legitimacy and the propriety of the powerful classes and all that they sanctioned in the country. That which ideological manipulation, persuasion, aesthetic seduction, or magic could not accomplish was achieved by economic necessity and by social, institutional, or state coercion. Ultimately, society’s adaptations to the changing interests of capital or the state were, and continue to be, achieved through diverse methods and resources. These included the practices of ideology, persuasion, justification, and the teaching of predetermined means of interpreting social and historical experiences, acting, and behaving, all partially conveyed through literary media. Adaptations were also achieved through a long series of rationales, institutions, and unavoidable economic, social, political, and cultural practices, all of

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which have been observed, legitimized, or critiqued very little by the field of literary criticism. Following the stage of constructing nationality, the histories, critiques, and reviews of the historical, intellectual and literary process written between 1910 and 1930 responded to the social and political atmosphere of the successive reform governments of José Batlle y Ordóñez. Unlike the nineteenth century, throughout which the country was almost constantly engaged in a civil war, this period was a time of relative “peace,” “order,” and effective political centralism. The central power, seated in Montevideo, was able to exercise control over events throughout the national territory. With the army’s defeat of the rebellious rural chiefs, the absorption of the opposition party into the machinery of electoral politics and government, the support of the emerging urban middle classes (the principal protagonists of modernization for Batllism), and the relative support of union organizations and the parties of the left (who saw in Batllism an alliance of circumstance), the state of “consensus and welfare” crystallized. In a favorable international context, the agro-export model favored the landowning and commercial classes. Nevertheless, and for the sake of its own survival, Batllism brought about a series of social and employment benefits that, without altering the bourgeois state and the existing structure of land and property ownership, greatly expanded the middle classes and the economic, social, political, and cultural roles and presence of the middle and working classes.35 Represented as symptoms of modernization, civilization, and maturity, these economic, social, and political processes were the scaffold of a moment of cultural pride and a celebration of nationalism. While this celebration signaled originality, difference, and comparative advantages (necessary for incorporation into the international capitalist market and the global community of nations), it also was intended to signal Uruguay’s connection and relevance to Europe, as well as a cultural and legal equality with European civilizations. In the first decades of the twentieth century, the continued construction of nationality gave way to “a celebration of the centenary of nationhood” as proof of historical evolution. This apparently corresponded to the spirit and the contour of the generation of 1918, also called the generation of the Centenary. Broadly speaking, this generation was acritical, composed, gentlemanly and, according to Washington Lockhart, supported by a “sentimental conciliation and unity between the intellectuals and the middle classes, unlike the commotions and impassioned societies of Europe,” “optimists in this American Switzerland where no one thought to question the establishment.” The criticism of the generation of ’18 was complacent, proper, and learned, dedicated to the study of literature and

20 / The Interpretation of National Culture education. It celebrated the canon, but also sent a gesture of approval toward the literary vanguards. The critic was more than a critic; he was expected to be an elegant commentator and “a teacher.” This generation included the literary critics Gustavo Gallinal, Alberto Lasplaces, Raúl Montero Bustamente, Osvaldo Crispo Acosta, José Pereira Rodríguez, Mario Falcao Espalter, Gervasio Guillot Muñoz, and Eduardo Dieste.36 In spite of this idyllic image, however, the first decades of the twentieth century formed the stage for a series of social, political, and ideological conflicts, the consolidation of anarchist and socialist workingclass organizations, the foundation in 1910 of the Socialist party (a fierce critic of the reforms of Batllism, which split into Socialist and Communist parties in 1922), the organization and radicalization of the university movement, etc. Although José Batlle pacified the popular sectors and the most radical organizations with his polyclassist articulations, the atmosphere changed when more authoritarian, intransigent, and less conciliatory partisan factions took his place. The governments of Claudio Williman (1907–11), Feliciano Viera (1916 –19), and Gabriel Terra (1931–38), for example, ignited a need for movements of opposition. These struggled against authoritarianism, anti-labor politics, financial speculation, bourgeois modernization sustained by the primacy of capital over salaried workers and the rest of the population, the harm caused by this modernization and its failures, and the contradictions of a society built on injustice and inequality. These oppositional critiques emerged from various sites and actors: the ambiguous and excited pedagogy and intellectualism of the university, which echoed the Manifiesto liminar de Córdoba of 1918 in rejecting the servile, traditional, and authoritarian government; the lawless acts and discourses of bohemian artists; even the so-called dandy, the intellectual who did not break ties completely with his bourgeois condition but flabbergasted his cohorts with a celebration of the new times and condemnation of the status quo and who derived his most committed, clear discourses from the themes of the working and less privileged sectors. Yet in fashionable romantic-liberal motifs, many literary texts continued functioning as a refuge and a haven for those who lamented the “barbarian and crude” ways that prevented Uruguay’s modernization and European-style civilization: the countryside, the gaucho, the black, the immigrant, the woman, the worker, the marginalized. These “dreaded” characters, these “obstacles” were not only unable to be “domesticated” and “educated,” they were also beginning to organize and move toward the urban centers. Criticism passed through a period of depression around the 1930s in a context of international repercussions of the financial (and spiritual)

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crisis of 1929. In Uruguay this paved a course for the 1933 dictatorship of Gabriel Terra, which strove to assist capitalists in the industries of cattle and finance and, generally speaking, for a lack of confidence in the liberal promise, the erosion of liberal institutions, and a sense of disenchantment and alienation (a sensibility illustrated by tango lyrics and the novels of Roberto Arlt, sometime before Onetti and in relation to the Argentine context). At this juncture, “very few texts of literary criticism or literary journals were published, apart from the journal Ensayos del Ateneo, which was perceived to be alien to both Uruguayan society and partisan politics.” The speculations of accredited intellectuals were generally not well accepted. “Figures like Carlos Vaz Ferreira, Joaquín Torres García, or Carlos Reyles were not adequate for conversion into spiritual centers.”37 In 1939, as a result of the alternatives that were delineated and fortified in rejection of fascism and terror, the weekly publication Marcha appeared. Agitated by the frustrated Revolution of ’35, which struggled to unseat Terra, and recollecting the experience of Acción, figures like Carlos Quijano, Julio Castro, Arturo Ardao, Juan Carlos Onetti, Lauro Ayestarán, Paco Espínola, Danilo Trelles, Arturo Despouey, and Joaquín Torres García gravitated toward the publication, which became a fundamental intellectual center and platform until its forceful closure by the military dictatorship in 1974. The special juncture created by World War II emerged at a time of industrialization, economic growth, and an increase in jobs and social well-being for the working and middle classes. The end of the war and the Allied victory contributed to a sense of Uruguay’s significance and pertinence in the world and a rise in national faith. The fruits of this fleeting moment, polished of its controversial and lacerating edges, gave rise to the myths of a “happy Uruguay,” of Uruguay as a “place like no other” in the 1950s.38 In this context of greater prosperity, many institutions flourished and among them were educational organizations. With the dramatic expansion of public education, including an increase in the numbers of students and professors, the social archetype of the teacher-intellectual emerged. In 1945, the School of Humanities was inaugurated, further formalizing the study of belles-lettres at a tertiary level. A generation of critics crystallized during this period, the generation of ’45, and imprinted on the function of criticism a set of new characteristics. This new group of critics grew and flourished because there was greater access to education and more diversity among cultural institutions such as the university, the seminary, cultural journals, publishing houses, radio programs, and theaters. Carlos Real de Azúa, Angel Rama, Ide Vilariño, Carlos Martínez Moreno, Mario Benedetti, José Pedro Díaz, Emir Rodríguez Monegal,

22 / The Interpretation of National Culture Jorge Medina Vidal, Domingo Luis Bordoli, Washington Lockhart, Arturo Sergio Visca, Alejandro Peñasco, Antonio Larreta, Giselda Zani, Homero Alsina Thevenet, and Carlos Alvarez are some of the well-known critics who emerged in this era.

Literature and Representations of the World to Come The end of World War II paved the way for a contradictory social and cultural panorama. During the war and “the good coup” of General Alfredo Baldomir in 1942, the country recovered and fortified the democratic liberal state and developed a national industry and a domestic market that raised the quality of life and social conditions. Benjamin Nahum and other authors explained that if 1933 was the era of ranchers and financiers, 1942 marked the ascent of proponents of a state-protected import substitution industry. Subaltern sectors could expect redistributions and assistance with confidence, and the middle classes could look toward public employment and the possibility of facilitated social climbing via the culture and access to a world of comfort.39 The need to produce what other countries of the center could not provide, the favorable prices of exports, state support of national industry, the creation of jobs, the distribution of goods and services in correspondence with the generation of wealth, the capacity of the middle and organized working classes to negotiate, the development of a wide internal market of goods and services, among other factors, resulted in a period of prosperity and social well-being that would coincide with the decade of Neo-Batllism (1947–58). Nevertheless, the consolidation of the United States as an economic, political, military, and ideological superpower and the primacy of U.S. capital quickly left its mark of negative economic effects on that national “developmentalist model.” With the expansion of U.S. power, Uruguay’s economic, political, and cultural dependence grew. Soon the country was revealed to be vulnerable to the whims of hegemonic interests in the region and the forces of the international market, which led Uruguay on a path of gradual marginalization, deindustrialization, and impoverishment. While the Uruguayan intellectual community, with its connections to the world beyond Uruguay and to the patrons of cultural consumption, may have felt increasingly a “part of the world,” it was hard to deny that the early 1960s was a period of isolation and economic crisis. By this point, most could see “the structural limits” of the dependent capitalist model. The crisis was a consequence of various factors including a diminishing internal market, the national industry’s limitations in a

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hostile international market environment, the low prices of and reduced demand for exports, the monopoly of foreign capital, and the flight of national capital.40 In turn, the welfare state deteriorated, and the current models of development failed to represent all social sectors productively and harmoniously, causing the growth of social inequalities and political polarization and the decline of living standards and social consensus. The situation climaxed during the presidency of Jorge Pacheco Areco (1968– 71) and again in 1973, during the presidency of Juan María Bordaberry, when the dictatorial state was installed. Broadly speaking, the period from the 1940s up to the 1973 coup d’etat provided a stage for the generation of ’45, one of the most notable social and cultural phenomena of the country. It was a result of the development of a “middle-class culture,” the expansion of education, and the expanded consumption and production of books, magazines, newspapers, theater, and film.41 This generation of artists, professors, and critics emerged as both a protagonist and a beneficiary of this early “boom” of the publishing industry of the River Plate, the acme of cultural presses and publications, the development of educational institutions at all levels, and the intensification of public life and cultural change. The generation’s cultural project apportioned itself a diverse, often contradictory set of tasks: to illuminate the new world order in a postwar, cold war era; to assimilate the changes in the cultural universe and nourish the conscience of the world’s citizens, which is how the artists imagined themselves; and to translate, propagate, and evaluate the works of the principal metropolitan authors (Proust, Kafka, Mann, Yourcenar, Faulkner, Joyce, Sartre, etc.). At the same time, these cultural agents assigned themselves the task of “orienting” or perhaps even “constructing” a literary “postwar reader.” They “mediated” the social circuit of cultural production and exchange, acting as “cultural liaisons” among Uruguay’s various contexts, Latin America, and the world. Finally, in accord with the social and political interests of the moment, this generation also reformulated the concept of culture and the educational and cultural missions of their time, constructing their own theories and hermeneutics and expressing new realities and frustrations as well as new hopes and values. Along with amplifying the discourses and symbolic expressions circulating in the public sphere, the discursive horizon of the time, literary criticism also opened itself to other arenas of cultural production. The field became interested in spectacles, the theater and film — understood, in the words of Emir Rodríguez Monegal, as “the new linguas francas.” Conditioned by journalism and its financial woes, much of this criticism was produced by journalists, playwrights, and directors. Given that the national cinematographic industry had very few members (Ugo

24 / The Interpretation of National Culture Ulive, Mario Handler, Walter Achugar, Mario Jacob, Marcos Benchero, and Eduardo Terra, for example42), film criticism was limited to the task of assimilating and promoting a transnational postwar culture. In that culture, film became a primary vehicle for orienting the public to the consumption, reception, absorption, and occasionally the questioning of transnational values and sensibilities that were in circulation in the 1970s. In spite of cinema’s cultural function and due to the failure of academic disciplines to embrace cinema, film criticism did not develop within educational institutions. Like all forms of criticism in this generation, cinematographic discourses remained primarily within the domain of journalism, which, as Angel Rama wrote, was “the critic’s natural territory.” Shaped by current historical events and urgencies as well as by anthropology, economics, sociology, psychology, historiography, linguistics, semiotics, and Marxism, literary criticism turned to entirely new terrains. Many within the field proposed that literature and their own roles as professors and critics were to be understood as products and producers of social and historical processes, rather than as merely spiritual entities, disconnected from material production, social experiences, and the social relations and the various institutions of civil society and the state. This was to be the most modern and enduring contribution of the generation of ’45. Without ignoring considerations of form or aesthetic (language, narration, genres, mythologies, symbolic systems, etc.), writers and critics related these aspects of analysis to economic, social, political, and ideological factors within the literary artifact. On occasion, literary analysis resulted in an exploration of realities, world visions, and emerging histories, as such and as they were inscribed in literature. Literature and criticism turned to the terrains marginalized by history, anthropology, or sociology. Writers and critics operated like ventriloquists speaking through their literary characters in order to explore the vicissitudes of diverse historical subjects, the lives and perspectives of the most oppressed, other historical logics and of the world to come. Some members of the generation of ’45 reflected a desire to elucidate as well as take part in the unfolding historical and cultural processes. Such were the cases of Mario Benedetti, Angel Rama, and other members of the region’s nascent intellectual vanguard43 who embraced roles as “engaged writers.” As a consequence and in a context that included the overt failure of development models, the Cuban Revolution, the formation of the student movement, and the maturation of the national left, a notable front of artists, journalists, professors, and critics crystallized in solidarity with the various social and economic organized struggles of which those individuals became participants and, at times, spokespersons and representatives.

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Nevertheless, as had occurred among earlier generations (for example, those who invented “the national conscience” and those who celebrated “the first one hundred years of national history”), the generation of ’45 developed proclivities, factions, and internal antagonisms. These revolved around literary critical theory, the literary canon, the relationship between literature, ideology, and society, or around their political positions. Some tried to integrate themselves into the modernity that became synonymous with subordination to hegemonic cultural forces and parameters, others insisted on traditional, populist, and nationalist reforms, and another group worked to implement a political and cultural revolution in the style of the Cuban Revolution. The diverse approaches, which were not necessarily exclusive, formulated or reaffirmed one or more of a number of types of consciousness: “cosmopolitan,” “national-popular,” “anti-imperialist,” “Latin American,” “Third World,” “class,” or “revolutionary.” All of these can be read in the texts, discussions, and proposals of the period. A number of significant works emerged with the consolidation of the publishing industry and the accumulation of bibliographic, author, and textual reviews. These included Un siglo y medio de cultura uruguaya (1958) and Antología del ensayo contemporáneo (1964) by Carlos Real de Azúa; Literatura uruguaya del siglo XX (1963), Letras del continente mestizo (1967), and Sobre artes y oficios (1968) by Mario Benedetti; Los poetas modernistas en el mercado económico (1968), La conciencia crítica (1969), and Diez problemas para el narrador latinoamericano (1972) by Angel Rama, and many others produced by this generation, also known as “the critical generation.” Taken as a whole, these works coalesced into a new method of understanding social and historical experiences and, as a function of this, a new means of understanding and critiquing the literary terrain. Consequently, they formed a new manner of analyzing and contributing to social transformations. If in the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries the popular classes were silent, indirect recipients of the instructional discourses of the hegemonic classes and were represented as threatening, backward, and “subhuman,” the narratives and the criticism of the next generation focused on representing, reproducing, and speaking in the name of the new historical subjects: the urban middle classes, the organizations of urban and rural laborers, and the many exploited ethnic communities.44 While in the nineteenth century the spirit of history was filtered through the European culture objectified in imported texts, for the generation of ’45 that spirit was distilled in the vicissitudes, hopes, frustrations, struggles, and utopias of the historical agents that figuratively “emerged, took shape, and expressed themselves” in poems, novels, or dramas. I think of the poetry of Pablo Neruda, César Vallejo, Nicolás Guillén,

26 / The Interpretation of National Culture Ernesto Cardenal, Mario Benedetti, Juan Gelman, Roque Dalton, Otto René Castillo, Gioconda Belli, Claribel Alegría, Nancy Morejón; the novels of Mariano Azuela, Miguel Angel Asturias, Ciro Alegría, Alejo Carpentier, José Revueltas, José María Arguedas, Nicomedes Guzmán, Jorge Amado, Rosario Castellanos, Julio Cortázar; the histories and memoirs of Eduardo Galeano, or the plays and dramas of Francisco Arriví, René Marqués, Abelardo Estorino, Agustín Cuzzani, Egon Wolff, Rodolfo Walsh, Osvaldo Dragún, Mauricio Rosencof, Antonio Larreta, Augusto Boal, and Luis Valdéz. Nevertheless, many of the very discourses of these same historical agents, including urban and rural workers, indigenous peoples, blacks, women, adolescents, the marginalized, and the insane, remained beyond the horizon of this generation’s critical project, and they were not incorporated as objects of analysis or as sites of the production and interpretation of the national culture unless they were aesthetically reelaborated by urban middle-class artists. These subcultures were rarely seen as entities with their own unique forms (albeit uneducated or alternatively educated) of elaborating and giving meaning to experiences. Their expressions and proposals were not included in literary representations, nor did they attract the attention of literary critics. At the time that literature became a lens for viewing new realities and sociocultural problems, the overwhelming emphasis of canonical works and genres implied a slighting of “the cultural instruments of the marginalized masses”:45 the representation and symbolism of quechua rituals and manifestations that Arguedas explored, the memoirs of black slaves that Barnet articulated, the Colombian vallenatos that inspired García Márquez, the Afro-Cuban rhythms and ceremonies that preoccupied Carpentier or the confessions, dramas, and illusions of the port-side cafés, brothels, and slums that Onetti re-created. The attention given to the works of these artists reduced the cultural practices and the representational forms of the popular classes to mere “raw materials” or blunderings without value, form, or meaning, leaving them in secondary and tertiary planes or in complete oblivion.

A New Sociohistorical Context: The Militarized Violent Foundation of the Current Neoliberal State In the late 1960s and early 1970s, Uruguay faced a situation of deterioration and crisis of its project of capitalist social organization, production, and accumulation. Above all, Uruguayan society and politics faced the onset of a capitalist restructuring46 based on a neoliberal model and the “Doctrine of National Security.” These changes started to be noticeable during the presidency of retired general Oscar Gestido and the government of his successor Jorge Pacheco Areco.

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At this juncture, the armed forces began to be a major protagonist, increasingly intervening in internal affairs, the activities of the government, and other powerful institutions and against civil society and organized forces of opposition. It was no coincidence that the culture of the left also expanded at this moment, manifested in two primary and very different venues: in the formation and force of the Broad Front (Frente Amplio), a socialist-democratic, national, and popular coalition that incorporated the Christian Democratic Party, the Socialist Party, the Communist Party, and many other sectors; and in the insurrections of the National Liberation Movement — Tupamaros. In general, the increasingly apparent capitalist developmentalist project became a growing crisis of hegemony. The violent coup d’état of 1973 and the subsequent repression put an end to the crisis. The armed forces’ ascent to power, the dissolution of the houses of representatives, the formation of a civil-military government with dictatorial powers, the prohibition of democratic social and political institutions that mediated between the state and civil society (the unions, the student movement, etc.), the military’s censorship and control of some surviving institutions, the suppression of human rights and the public sphere, the persecutions, incarcerations, torture, assassinations, and disappearances all were intended to uphold the violent and uncontested foundation of the neoliberal state.47 On one level, this signified the displacement and temporary elimination of democratic, nationalist, or socialist organizations as well as the criminalization and repression of their respective subcultures. On a deeper level, it signified a radical transformation of the state and society in correspondence with the neoliberal capitalist peripheral model. The transformation to this model was a way of making “the necessary adjustments” so that the national bourgeoisie would be incorporated, once again, in the international market at any social, political, moral, and aesthetic costs. While the country’s incipient capitalist accumulation created favorable conditions for Uruguay to build a national industry and market during World War II, after the war the region’s responses to crisis became deliberate developmentalist state politics. Just as national industrialization was a process of convenience for the national bourgeoisie, the political class, the middle classes, and workers, these same sectors supported its continuation. Thus, populist reformism was instated with success and the state recognized the organizations and unions of workers as well as their struggles for the rights and privileges that they had never enjoyed. The state would take charge of “occupying” the masses of rural homeless and those left unemployed by industrialization. Some years later, however, the productive modernization that was needed to adapt to “the cycle of U.S. hegemony” positioned transnational

28 / The Interpretation of National Culture corporations as central actors in production and cultural experience in general. Locals knocked at the doors of such companies in search of financing and the technologies of modernization and expansion. From these processes, the directors of transnational conglomerates derived great power and prestige, to the point that their interests, decisions, and rules soon began to conflict with national interests and the national states.48 Mediated by the global and local cultural industry, these companies also proffered new values, explications of the world, and modern behaviors that were associated with the promotion of an “American style of living” (“American” meaning from the United States), the consumption of domestic articles, etc. Thus, the developmentalist impulse, with its basis in an industry of domestic consumption “within a protected space,” entered a crisis in the 1960s due to “the internationalization” of the local market, that is, now that the local market was being taken over by the industries of developed countries that were no longer preoccupied with the war. The crisis was also fueled by the need to maintain and expand production levels with capital, modern technology, renovated equipment, raw materials from other regions, organizations of administration, distribution and sales, increased publicity, and the competitive production of basic manufactures and durable goods such as cars, refrigerators, and televisions.49 In addition, both the Fordist and Taylorist regimes of industrial production were in crisis. In order to stay competitive in an international market and attract or sustain the interest of national and foreign capital, production required new methods, technologies, and organizational models to reduce costs and increase productivity. The expansion of capital, and concomitantly the destiny of capitalist development based in industrialization, had reached its “structural limits” with respect to technology, profits, market sales, and levels of protection.50 The discord among transnational corporations, national capitalists, and the popular classes, the crisis and impossibility of the current socioeconomic model, and, lastly, the recognition that commercial competency and exchange were built on a foundation of inequality all demanded the creation of a new model of development. This need for a new model, in turn, laid the foundation for the neoliberal state. It also contributed to oppositional efforts to fill a void created by the absence of a bourgeoisie invested in national popular progress and well-being, and propelled the need to escape “dependent” and “uneven” development, the whims of transnational capital, and the terms imposed by more powerful states. New alliances and cooperative strategies were needed in order to resolve a seemingly new problem that was actually part of a continuous history of national “disintegration”

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and “polarization.” Leaders sought to form solidarities not only between classes, nations, regions, and blocs but also between the multiclass sectors of individuals who were either “included in” or “excluded from” capitalist, transnational accumulation.51 A vast conglomerate of professionals, state employees, industrial and rural workers, small entrepreneurs, and a growing mass of “marginalized” Uruguayans coalesced in the pole of individuals who were not integrated into such accumulation.52 At the same time, another symptom of the crisis in industry and state democracy appeared in the expansion of military strength and vehicles of state coercion. The increasing force of the military and the state was intended to protect the modes of industrial production, increase the power of national and international capital over the worker, contain the marginalized and those dissatisfied with declining standards of living and working, and avert a loss of political or economic control vis-à-vis new social and political forces. For different, even opposing, reasons, capitalist transnationalization and the complementary process of social anomie both necessitated social, economic, and political reorganization in Uruguay. The organization of social production, while demonstrating a certain degree of homogenization and social integration via the relative accessibility of goods and services, began to crumble. Most could see that it needed to be disassembled and restructured. Without improvements in the current developmental model, Uruguayan society experienced an erosion and reduction of rights and standards that affected primarily the middle classes and salaried workers. Along with the crisis of industrialization and the state, traditional bipartisan politics also reached structural limits. In this context at mid-century, two political alternatives began to emerge clearly. The first was a project of democratic and popular development that sought to break away from the model of capitalist dependence and represent interests and priorities that were both “national and popular.” This model was politically embodied as a national left that consisted of the Broad Front, a broad electoral coalition, on one hand, and the MLN-Tupamaros, or MLN-T, a national liberation movement, on the other. The left was represented as a movement or a “popular national” alliance in which the most conscious groups among organized and unorganized workers, middle classes, students, and intellectuals came to be seen as “the Uruguayan people.” Opposite this varied leftist movement, the project of dictatorial neoliberal modernization was taking shape. It was promoted by a sector of the armed forces with the assistance of technical experts (in the fields of law, geopolitics, psychological operations, population control, economics, civil action, and social assistance) and various national and foreign economic and political groups. While

30 / The Interpretation of National Culture it had no legitimate political representation, this project was clearly expressed in the Colorado governments of Pacheco Areco and Bordaberry and was ultimately articulated through the armed forces. After effectively neutralizing the MLN-T in the “internal war” that lasted from 1967 to 1972, the armed forces began to act on their own, cancelled the existent constitutional rights and democratic institutions, and took control of the country in 1973. The dictatorship proved to be the last recourse for restructuring the basis of peripheral capitalism in order to adapt it to the new exigencies of the metropolis. Democratic institutions, human rights, and the existence of civic, mediating institutions like the press, unions, parties, and guilds had been some of the obstacles to the social, economic, political, and cultural transformations needed for capitalist “modernization.” The State of Emergency’s decrees (the Medidas prontas de seguridad), “interventions” and the use of state force to repress economic and social conflicts were effective to a great extent but not enough to create the changes necessary for participation in the global capitalist market. This peripheral participation required actions that would further “optimize” conditions for the inversion of capital and the commercialization of national products, even if they included the elimination, at any social cost, of anything that increased production costs or workers’ power and anything that posed a risk to the movement, safety, or profit margins of capital investments in Uruguay. According to the “neoliberal scheme” (a variation of the diffusionist theme already critiqued by dependency theorists of the 1960s), countries would develop by following the model of those nations already developed, that is, by the formulas prepared by developed countries for the underdeveloped world. The primary mechanism was a subscription to the international market. The developed nations would contribute allotted injections of capital, technologies, and expertise needed to compete in the market. The free flow of capital, goods, and culture would do the rest. Ensuring that the peripheral economies were favorable sites for investments, effectively administered capital would serve various local interests, develop the country, and finally bring substantial returns to investors. A messianic role was assigned to local administrators, who were provided access to the necessary advisers, experts, and technicians to fulfill their role. The armed forces were promoted and built to be the optimal agency for directing and implementing this model, at least in its foundational stages.53 Neoliberalism required a “package” of economic, social, and political measures that were elaborated and carried out by international financial institutions like the International Monetary Fund, the World Bank,

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and the Inter-American Development Bank. These measures, once implemented, implied a whole series of human rights violations, deteriorating living and job standards, and further limitations of the access to goods and services for those who were tracked into the production process or, even worse, forced to the margins of society. Ideologically and programmatically, the Doctrine of National Security or the doctrine of “security for development” sustained neoliberalism.54 According to neoliberalism’s explanation and vision of the world, any form of resistance or opposition to development was seen as a threat and an international communist conspiracy. To contain or eliminate such threats, leaders promoted internal wars and patriotic crusades. They had to crush the advance of communism, an ideology that was apparently nourished by substandard conditions of life throughout Latin America, disenchantment, desperation, and rage among the masses as well as the perverse ideology of imperialist and class exploitation. Neoliberal leaders believed that communism, which called for anti-imperialist struggle, was fed by both the naiveté of a population that was supposedly deceived, “possessed,” and brainwashed and a political class of “useful idiots,” as they were labeled in geopolitical theory, who were blind, inept, and corrupt. The perpetuity of this vision justified the unrestricted use of state violence against political opposition, also known as Lowor Medium-Intensity Conflict, and the declaration of a State of Emergency, both of which would guarantee a wide margin of management and nearly total power for the armed forces as well as the articulation and deployment of a “strategic plan” to provide a safe haven for capitalist development. Thus began an internal war in which the political and military actors manipulated and skirted any instruments that regulated atrocities and abuses. The repressive measures of the military government were widespread and numerous. The government eliminated a series of civil and political rights including habeas corpus and the freedoms of speech, opposition, voting, organization, and association as well as all other rights of social, economic, and cultural order protected by international forums and agreements. It closed the parliament and suspended the activity and negotiating power of political parties, unions, and guilds, cancelled government, and ruled by decree. It criminalized organizations and social movements, confiscating their assets and persecuting or eliminating their members. The government installed new institutions, such as the Council of Ministers, the Committee of the Commanders in Chief, and even a U.S.-style National Security Council and created an agency of propaganda called the National Office of Public Relations (Dirección Nacional de Relaciones Públicas — DINARP), which shut down organizations of public expression and placed deputies, guards, and censors

32 / The Interpretation of National Culture at the remaining offices of mass communication. It intervened in public institutions and dependencies, established new military courts and summary juries, stratified citizens into different classes based on their affiliations and political participation, and took away employment from those who had participated in activities that were proscribed by the new government. It administered identity cards with photos and digital fingerprints that citizens had to carry at all times or risk incarceration and required all workers, professionals, and bureaucrats to pass through the rather paradoxical stages of soliciting the Civic Credential, the Constitutional Oath, the Certificate of Good Conduct, and the Document of Democratic Faith. It dictated rules of dress, shaving, and cutting hair and created a New Moral and Civic Instruction manual. It placed military officers at all secondary and postsecondary schools, ejected professors, changed academic programs, and emptied the libraries of all prohibited books and “strange ideas.” It ordered that homes be searched for people, books, papers, posters, letters, or “subversive” records. Finally, the government orchestrated the kidnapping, imprisonment, proscription, persecution, assassination, torture, disappearance, exile, and censorship of the most active leftist leaders and militants. Any opponent of the government, however, was subject to arbitrary and indiscriminate measures of repression within the climate of obedience and terror. In this way, the government constructed a semblance of peace and order, signaling that Uruguay had finally attained the level of security needed for development. In order to impose a model of laissez-faire economics and pave the way for the international market, the leaders of the military government created a gigantic and monstrous apparatus to mediate every detail and aspect of society. The desired capital inversions, only occasionally acquired under terms beneficial to Uruguay, resulted in a staggering external debt with enormous interest payments. On the rare occasions when the economy fortified and expanded the capital generated by workers (in national capitalist businesses), any capital gained was exported in search of more secure and profitable investments, a process that became known as “capital flight.” The government was loyal to the neoliberal project, but it neither tried nor was able to be an instrument of service to the national interests, that is, to popular needs and concerns. The regime was characterized by declining salaries and sales, the decay of industrialization, increases in unemployment and underemployment, and the emergence of a culture of disillusion, resignation, and obedience. Uneven development, which resulted in a wasted and impoverished countryside, forced rural sectors to move first toward the cities of the interior and later toward the capital.

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The cities could not absorb these communities of people, who in turn inhabited urban slums and poor suburbs or wandered to distant areas in search of work and homes and finally, when possible, migrated to other countries. As options dwindled and the quality of life declined, the pacts and standards of social coexistence, the sensibilities and values that supported society, the myths of a contented Uruguay, and the pleasures and privileges of urban life and modernity were all in decay. Police, state, or private forces were called on to take charge of the contentions of excluded sectors and to guarantee the reproduction of the social order. Historically a prosperous culture and a society of immigrants, Uruguay became an increasingly poor and inhospitable culture and a society of emigrants that expels young people, professionals, qualified workers, and small entrepreneurs.

Social Sensibilities in Circulation during the Military Dictatorship In terms of the production of “social sensibilities,” the dictatorship deployed propaganda to conceal and gild the processes of perversion and degradation. It did so primarily by promoting fantasies to the ingenuous tourist and the gullible citizen. The fantasies consisted of many images: images of order, security, and peace, a marvelous and pastoral place, a Divine Work, a “Paradise Found” in the South Atlantic (the title of a Ministry of Tourism video), the pleasure of real and mythical nature, romance, and love, modernity (for example, Punta del Este, Formula 1 car races, yachting, and surfing) and scientific, technological progress. Simultaneously, a campaign of intimidation and exemplification consisting of propaganda and random repression reduced most Uruguayans to a state of passivity, terror, confusion, and isolation. Citizens were torn away from their representative organizations, left floating without structural support to negotiate decisions, interpret meanings, express themselves, understand their errors, and comprehend their historical, social, and personal tragedy. With this tragedy hidden behind the images of paradise, pastoral comedy, and romance, the military leaders cultivated and promoted a neonaturalist sensibility rooted in social Darwinism and geopolitics. This sensibility posited that the construction and historical evolution of the social were independent of human action, designed apart from social activity, and biologically, environmentally, or genetically determined. In other words, the social was not created by the understanding, will, or action of contemporary peoples. This neonaturalism thus embraced transhistorical, atavistic, and titanic entities and chose to focus on civilizations, millenarian nations, species, regions, continental masses, and

34 / The Interpretation of National Culture constellations in conflict rather than individual humans, who were peons to an invisible and mineral epic that was, nonetheless, invigorated by reality. In this image, the social is merely a sort of battleground where scarcity, overpopulation, and greed reign and where strong and weak individuals meet and attempt to strangle and asphyxiate one another in their struggle to survive. This social-naturalist logic reduced individuals to insects or beasts and saw society as a jungle of need, plagued by catastrophes, death, and disease in which the existence of all species was debated. The individuals that promoted scarcity and/or controlled the state’s means of coercion defined themselves as superhuman. Economic, social, and political practices were dehistoricized and naturalized in a world produced, ordered, and ruled by an omniscient, authoritarian, and all-powerful being. Military leaders protected themselves as the symbols and earthly representatives of this supreme being. As a complement to the neonaturalist sensibility (which may be evidenced in the apparent realism of phrases like “that’s just the way things are”), a sensibility of the grotesque, of material and ideological estrangement from the reality of life and production, also began to emerge. In this vision, the subject engages in but does not understand and is denied the benefits of production. He or she cannot see the whole picture of an absurd production that only guarantees his or her annihilation. The distorted self-images proposed by those in power and the automatic processes of self-destruction are accepted. In this violent context, the struggle to survive leads to melodrama. People weep, sob, complain about present-day reality, and bemoan lost values and false hopes. In order to understand reality and continue functioning, they express their nostalgia to compensate for their sense of passivity and asphyxia. The gradual (and for the most part clandestine) reorganization and cooperation of oppositional sectors and the struggle to reestablish democratic, constitutional order and a new, alternative society gave rise to a series of mobilizing sensibilities. There were the moderate forms: an anti-grotesque sensibility, which sought to deconstruct the myths, representations of reality, and forms of life proposed by the dictatorship; and a nostalgic-reconstructionist sensibility, which sought the return of the “contented Uruguay of the 1950s,” the golden age of the middle classes, or to the “pre-sinful / pre-dictatorial” Uruguay. The third and more radical sensibility was contentious, questioning, utopian, and epic, occasionally with a retro or 1960s tone, that, allying itself with the tradition and historical experience of the national and international left, articulated the need for a decisive turn away from militarism and neoliberalism.

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Literary Criticism in the Context of the Dictatorship and in the Exterior The foundation and slow consolidation of the neoliberal order brought terrible consequences to all aspects of national culture and society, including, of course, literature and criticism. In fact, although the psychological, aesthetic, and cultural effects of the dictatorship are still emerging, the task of unearthing and understanding these effects has become one of the most pressing and urgent projects of the turn of the century. Many politicians, public officials, journalists, professors, artists, and critics were impoverished, censored, imprisoned, assassinated, or forced to escape and live in exile. Many books, plays, newspapers, films, records, and radio emissions were also banished, destroyed, or prohibited. A similar fate devastated courses, programs, theories, or points of view that were perceived to oppose the military government’s cultural project. Institutions of surveillance and censorship attempted to silence fictitious and realistic representations that included or stirred memories, reflections, imaginations, social critiques, or cultural practices that the government deemed “subversive.” Professors and critics also were pressured to be silent regarding political and social issues, and many reverted, either voluntarily or under duress, to the interpretation of literature as an entity disconnected from social life, history, and material production. Educators were encouraged to provide a space for elements of the dictatorship’s doctrine. In global terms, the repression and the coup d’état interrupted Uruguay’s cultural process at a moment of intense criticism and growth among counter-hegemonic and counter-cultural movements. Although these movements were relatively transnational, they accompanied and contributed to the maturation of the national-popular historical-cultural project. It was not long, however, before “specialists” and “doctors” appeared, volunteering to collaborate with administrative and ideological state projects and positioning themselves at the margin of international cultural changes and alongside the cultural traditions and status quo supported by the dominant classes. They attempted to justify and naturalize order and a restriction to forms of expression that were literary, meaning “cultured, superior, fine,” and exclusively legitimated by authority and tradition. These “specialists” also called for the study of “literature in itself,” that is, literary expressions outside of their social and cultural contexts, understood through an ahistorical and apolitical approach based on the arbitrary and archaic criteria of impressionism, aesthetics, idealism, and formalism. Nevertheless, a front of resistance and cultural struggle clearly existed. Some literature teachers used the canon or the curricula stipulated by “the programs” to respect the charter and the history of literature as

36 / The Interpretation of National Culture well as to demonstrate advances in social, cultural, and literary theories. As a consequence, they saw literature as part of social history in terms of the objects and the logic of representation, the circulation of texts, and the social roles of literature, criticism, and educators. Thus the study, criticism, and teaching of literature were among the many codes that Uruguayans used to learn about and discuss their society, political world, or “hidden” history. A distinct process occurred among the intellectuals who left Uruguay to reside in the exterior. There, with greater maneuverability and access to information, they were influenced by different theories and traditions such as Marxist analyses of culture, the studies of institutions and discourses, psychoanalysis, structuralism, semiotics, the history of mentalities, poststructuralism, deconstruction, hermeneutics, symbolic anthropology, folklore studies, mass culture and popular culture, feminism, postcolonialism, and global cultures. With the help of these theories and tools of intellectual operation, and due to the cultural concerns about Latin America (in terms of cultural processes in the contexts of fascism and revolution throughout the region), critics began a new phase in which they focused carefully on contemporary Latin American history, reread and broadened the canon, and repositioned their critical work in the light of the current cultural scene. They also changed and expanded their disciplinary interests and tasks to incorporate: the situation and role of women in the historical process; the situation of the sectors who were exploited, marginalized, and enfeebled by new modes of production and capitalist accumulation; the struggles in defense of human rights; the struggles in defense of cultural patrimony; the struggles of towns and ethnic communities in resistance and opposition to fascism and imperialism and/or the role of Christian base communities and the theology of liberation, with its proposal of applied Christianity as a praxis for national liberation. Along with these inclusions, a substantive innovation occurred as a result of the interest given to the narrative testimonial form, which expanded literature’s boundaries and placed in question the utility of conventional theories and methods. I refer to the testimonials of Esteban Montejo, Rachel, Domitila Barrios de Chungara, Omar Cabezas, Rigoberta Menchú, Jesusa Palancares, and others who have been incorporated into the literary canon. Nevertheless, the effort to understand the discourses of popular actors and the popular classes as they were represented in literature, that is, in “novels” (testimonial novels), continued to predominate within this genre as well. Thus the same methods used for reading, presenting, and interpreting canonical texts were applied to this new genre. In other words, the introduction of this new genre failed to create any radical, hermeneutical changes to the consideration of which

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discourses, interpretive paradigms, criteria, and perspectives should be used to interpret and critique national culture.

Changes in the National Culture . . . and in Its Interpretation? Spirit of ’84, youth of the ’80s, postdictatorship generation, whatever you/we are to be called. You/we are the twenty- and thirtysomethings who fought for the end of the dictatorship and generated a different way to be and, perhaps, formed the seed of a cultural protest that is still germinating. . . . it suffices to mention the PIT [Plenario Intersindical de Trabajadores, or Interunion Plenary of Workers], ASCEEP [Asociación Social y Cultural de Estudiantes de la Enseñanza Pública, or the Social and Cultural Association of Public School Students], FUCVAM [Federación Uruguaya de Cooperativas de Vivienda de Ayuda Mutua, or Uruguayan Federation of Housing and Mutual Aid Cooperatives], or [Eduardo] Darnauchans, the popular singer, murgas, the Tabaré [Rivero Rock Band], those who were singing, Silvio [Rodríguez] and Pablo [Milanés], youth selection, the protest of the laugh, May first or November ninth, 1983, Youth Meridian, Jesus Christ Superstar, student music groups, etc., or to compare the environment of our youth so that we know what people are talking about. [Then] in the mid-80s, when everything deteriorated, a series of manifestations, one after the other, allowed us to recall some of what we had lost on our dark night: the Walking Theater, the Circus, the Sindicato Unico Revolucionario de Muchachos de la Esquina, or the Revolutionary Union of the Corner Boys [SURME], the Anti-razias campaign, the graffiti artists like Pepe and his Stowaways, the generation of ’90, the Fine Arts cartels, the Marches of the Hobos, the meeting of ex-militants of the ASCEEP-FEUU [Federación de Estudiantes Universitarios del Uruguay, or Federation of Uruguayan University Students], the Grandchildren of the Future, the March of the Condom, the Group of ’45, the Campaign of the Last Orejón Left in the Bucket, among other letters, documents, convocations and resignations.55 The end of the dictatorship and the lifting of ideological and political prohibitions permitted an opening and a spring of national cultural activity. Nevertheless, literary production and criticism resurged with less force and fewer changes and new proposals than anticipated prior to the anxiously awaited and costly return to democracy. The period began with a sense of anxiety about the need to vindicate and reestablish the historical and cultural references obfuscated by

38 / The Interpretation of National Culture the military regime. Many felt strongly and urgently a desire and an attempt to reconstruct the world that the dictatorship had interrupted and eroded. It was a historical obligation for which many had worked and struggled and that, symbolically, came to crown the displacement of the military government but not the neoliberal state. Figuratively speaking, albeit cryptically, some of the dictatorship’s monuments and bastions fell (not all that should have and some that should not have fallen), some of the monuments displaced by the dictatorship were replaced, and some new ones were erected (not all that needed to be raised and some that still should be razed). For example, the need to analyze critically the literature of the dictatorial experience (including the memoirs and testimonials of prisoners, torture victims, and their families, the literature of exile, the aesthetic and literary exploration of that long, dark night) was simultaneously a task of the first order and a project that had as a secondary, negative effect the revitalization of the literary institution. In other words, the literary establishment was brought back to a central place from which it had been displaced some time earlier. Now the institution could not help but share that vital centrality with all other expressions and texts, but this new vitality contributed to the delay of literary criticism’s transformation and repositioning. When criticism focused exclusively on works of the postdictatorial literary “boom,” it turned away from an extensive and valuable body of cultural material. Critics did not focus on the many literary and “nonliterary” inscriptions, histories, and testimonials that described the experiences of the dictatorship, the different practices, tricks, institutions, and other means used to resist and oppose the social and cultural order of the dictatorship, and the visions and dreams of the overthrow of neoliberalism. During and after the rule of the military government, much occurred that did not pertain to the predictatorship world and its institutions, including literature; the practice of criticism could not understand contemporary history and culture without self-examination and fundamental readjusting. With the exception of some critics who “deviated” from the traditional concerns of literary criticism (Mabel Moraña, Alvaro Barros Lémez, Abril Trigo, Hugo Achugar, and a few others), the field did not question or alter significantly its objects, its disciplinary tasks, its questions, or its hermeneutics in light of the social and cultural changes over the prior twenty years. In accord with the latest recounts of Hugo Achugar or Jorge Rufinelli,56 and broadly speaking, literary criticism continued to concentrate primarily on a small nucleus of “great authors” (Eduardo Acevedo Díaz, Florencio Sánchez, Horacio Quiroga, Julio Herrera y Reissig, Delmira Agustini, María Eugenia Vaz Ferreira, Juan Carlos Onetti,

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Felisberto Hernández, Mario Benedetti, Cristina Peri Rossi); three intellectuals (Alberto Zum Felde, Carlos Real de Azúa, and Angel Rama); and a small group of Latin American writers (Borges, García Márquez, Rulfo, Revueltas). At the same time, perhaps in an effort to reinforce or rebuild a threatened identity, dictionaries, guides, and biographical/bibliographic catalogues, like the Diccionario de la literatura uruguaya (1987) directed by Alberto Oreggioni and coordinated by Wilfredo Penco, the Diccionario de autores teatrales uruguayos (1988) by Walter Rela, or the Guía de revistas culturales uruguayas 1895–1985 (1989) by Mario Barité and María Gladys Ceretta. In the newspapers, weeklies, and cultural reviews (La República, Búsqueda, Brecha, Mate Amargo, La Hora, El Popular, Relaciones, Cuadernos de Marcha, Guambia, Carta Cultural, Graffiti, Tranvías y Buzones), however, changes were more apparent. While ostensibly seeking new values and criteria for understanding culture, journalistic criticism, with its ambiguities and contradictions, lacked the coherence and impact necessary to reorient the criteria for evaluating national culture at the public and institutional levels. Theater critics recognized the tendency of certain theater groups to incorporate the spaces of the popular classes in elements of their own representational practices (for example, some elements of the murga are found in theatrical works, like El regreso de Gran Tuleque, by Mauricio Rosencof). But criticism did not take great steps to erase the line that separates the representations of downtown theaters from those that occur on Carnival’s tablados and in the scenes of everyday life; the latter can be understood as a form of social theater that informs and demonstrates much of society’s repertoire of gestures. Except for a few references to neighborhood theaters, critics and historians of theater (Andrés Castillo, Juan Carlos Legido, Roger Mirza, Jorge Pignataro, Walter Rela, and Stella Santos, for example) continued to omit all that occurred outside of downtown theaters or that did not correspond with the cultured forms and the parameters and conventions of the formal theatrical environment. With these critics as our guides, the theaters of Carnival and everyday life simply did not exist. In general, naïve formalism persisted more or less unshaken, as seen in the continuing devotion to formal, precise, idealistic, and static categories and classifications that were detached, for the most part, from historical processes and regional cultures. Paradoxically, today even the official literary corpus is a veritable pastiche, a testimonial to the heterogeneity of criteria and forms. We now find bodies of vastly different texts and discourses that coexist without problem. Consider the following ensembles: the Bible, the Popul Vuh, Greek “theater,” and the commedia dell’arte; the most diverse oral

40 / The Interpretation of National Culture compositions (Homeric poems, old romances, The Poem of el Cid), the letters, reports, and financial requests of Christopher Columbus, Hernán Cortés, commercial and military representatives, the songs, and popular mozárabe lyrics, the travel diaries of Bernal Díaz and Alvar Núñez, the Baroque sacramental decrees, the treatises of Spanish utopian idealists, the letters between Sor Juana and her superior, the denunciations of Fray Bartolomé de las Casas (that is, all types of writings of the colonial period), the letters and political messages of Bolívar, and the essays, manifests and pamphlets of Echeverría, Sarmiento, Lastarria, Martí, or Rodó; vanguard experiments like Mario Vargas Llosa’s The Green House, Alejo Carpentier’s The War of the End of Time, Carlos Fuentes’s The Death of Artemio Cruz, Julio Cortázar’s Book of Manuel, and Roque Dalton’s The Memoirs of Pulgarcito; Octavio Paz’s sociocultural essays in The Labyrinth of Solitude, Eduardo Galeano’s histories and collections of memoirs and myths, the tapes of Omar Cabezas, the guerrilla, the testimonial composed by Domitila Barrios de Chungara and Moema Viezzer, or the gospel of the peasants of Solentiname compiled by Ernesto Cardenal. It should not surprise or disturb us that all these texts are considered “literature,” that they constitute the literary canon and that they occupy the literary critics. Like any historical artifact, the canon is also a malleable product, a result of the ensemble of vectors at play in cultural life that do not necessarily remain within the boundaries of formal considerations. It is a product of various historical and cultural projects, distinct generations, currents of literary analysis and ideologies in conflict, or of the diverse cultural powers and administrators that authorize and legitimate it. Frankly, what is disturbing is the discipline’s ignorance or ghettoization of an entire body of contemporary texts based on the grounds of formalism or the preservation of the boundaries of literature, the so-called boundaries of the discipline. While the recent publication of the Diccionario de la literatura uruguaya57 certainly represents a contribution to the analysis of our national culture, a principal group of the creators of the last twenty years, “the troubadours of our times” in the words of Benavides, the re-creators of significant aesthetic, emotional, social, historical, and testimonial expressions, has been left in the shadows of most contemporary writings (with the exceptions of texts by Rubén Lena, Washington Benavides, and Leo Maslíah). With what criteria do critics include Bartolomé Hidalgo’s dialogues and cielitos, Orosmán Moratorio’s theater, Carlos Vaz Ferreira’s philosophical writings, Pedro Figari’s creations, and Joaquín Torres García’s essays while most ignore the work of Alfredo Zitarrosa, Daniel Viglietti, José Carbajal, Eduardo Mateo, Rubén Rada, José Luis Guerra, Braulio Castro, Eduardo Darnauchans, Jorge Lazaroff,

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Rubén Olivera, Fernando Cabrera, Mauricio Ubal, Estela Magnone, Jaime Roos, and many other poets and troubadours who fill the domestic altars of the city and its popular memory? What justifies the absence of José Alanís, Carlos Modernell, José Morgade, José María Silva, Raúl Castro, Antonio Iglesias, Jorge Esmóris, Enrique Vidal, and other celebrated authors of the Carnival? What concept and image of literature are at work, and end up being reproduced? In this sense, the Diccionario is as much an obstacle to the visualization and comprehension of national culture as it is a contribution. Accepting considerations of space and the need to adapt the work to certain genres (reasonable limitations given the logic of a dictionary), perhaps the Diccionario itself is another symptom of a profound crisis in the national culture and the literary paradigm. It may be another symptom of the relative uselessness of the concepts, values, and criteria that were used to explain late twentieth-century Uruguayan culture in correspondence with cultural changes and the development of the discipline. Given that some writings, such as Mario Sambarino’s 1970 essay La cultura nacional como problema,58 began to explore these changes in earlier decades, many of the innovations under consideration are not even that new. If the literary corpus is only a reduced ensemble of works, merely a small segment of the symbolic discourses that constitute the national discursive system, and if within the national culture we harbor the discourses, expressions, and rearticulations of the symbolic capital in circulation within the popular public sphere, the project of creating a culturally representative dictionary is impossible, anachronistic, and out of place unless it is envisioned as an attempt to draw “a map of sensibilities and symbolic discourses” that represent the nation. When the cultural criteria and values that sustain the dictionary become the criteria for education or a certain view of culture, the spaces where transforming ideas, values, sensibilities, and knowledge are supposedly created and exchanged, that is, educational institutions, begin to undercut our consideration of daily experiences, everyday practices, and the new ideas, values, and sensibilities that emerge and exist outside of the institutions. Consider, for example, the series of “(de)generations” that Roger Rodríguez recalled (see the quote at the beginning of this section), among many other cultural experiences that apparently have not affected criticism in ways that are desirable and necessary. Apart from literary criticism, journalism and other disciplines existed in a different ambit. These genres were more connected to social reality, “what’s going on” and “what is interesting to people.” Here we find an ensemble of studies of “another world,” a “parallel, submerged and unknown” country, a denied and forgotten history that reemerges in the current series of cultural practices: Uruguayan candombe, popular

42 / The Interpretation of National Culture religion, fashion, contemporary customs and lifestyles, graffiti, popular song, national rock or carnivalesque representations; a network of cultural practices increasingly less marginalized and more central that became the foundation for a reconstructed popular public sphere and in which, for their capacity to connect people and articulate a collective national-popular subject, popular music and the murgas were prominent. Yet most texts that dealt with Carnival were journalistic in character and did not provide more than a summary or review of the spectacle, a list of credits, a set of interviews, anecdotes, or evocations. Generally representations of Carnival were offered as part of overviews, on billboards, in notes, or in supplemental forms. Examples of these supplements were Doscientos carnavales montevideanos (1976) by Juan Carlos Patrón, Carnaval (1981) by Romeo Otero, Nelson Domínguez, and Carlos Soto, and La historia del carnaval (1988) and Todo Momo: Anuario del carnaval uruguayo 1988 by Julio César Martínez and Guillermo Reimann. Many journalists contributed brief articles or notes to prominent periodicals during Carnival: Mauricio Ubal, Milita Alfaro, Rubén Olivera, Coriún Aharonián, and Rafael Bayce wrote in Brecha; Gustavo Diverso, Mariana Percovich, Enrique Vidal, and Artigas Trindade contributed to La Hora; Daniel Erosa, Kintto Lucas, Roque Ramírez, and Juan Mascheroni added to Mate Amargo; and Jorge Migliónico wrote for La República. The isolated journalistic notes and articles were accompanied and amplified by a number of articles and books, dissimilar and disparate in their interests, approaches, and impact. The following are worthy of mention: El tamboril se olvida y la memoria no (1980) and La nueva canción popular uruguaya entre 1960 y 1973 (1983) by Marjanne Haistna; Aquí se canta: Canto popular 1977–1980 (1980) by Juan Capagorry and Elbio Rodríguez Barilari; Canciones (1982), Eduardo Darnauchans’s compilation of songs by various authors; Canto popular uruguayo (1983) by Aquiles Fabregat and Antonio Dabezies; the anthology La murga (1984) by Juan Capagorry and Nelson Domínguez; the collection Cuadernos de canto popular edited by Víctor Cunha and Elbio Rodríguez Barilari (1984); Música popular uruguaya 1973 –1982: un fenómeno de comunicación alternativa (1986) by Carlos Martins: “La música popular: censura y represión” (1987) by Leo Maslíah; Jaime Roos: El sonido de la calle (1987) by Milita Alfaro; “Canto popular y cultura nacional” (1986) by Mabel Moraña (in Memorias de la generación fantasma [1988]); Murgas: La representación del carnaval (1989) by Gustavo Diverso; A marcha camión: Historias y anécdotas de falta y resto (1991) by Hugo Broccos; some chapters dedicated to Carnival in Historia de la sensibilidad en el Uruguay (1990) by José Pedro Barrán; Carnaval: Historia social

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del Uruguay desde la perspectiva de la fiesta (1991) by Milita Alfaro; or Rituales (1991) by Teresa Porzecanski. In 1990 and in the context of the Broad Front’s access to Montevideo’s government, the association of directors of Carnival spectacles and entities (DAECPU) and the municipal government of Montevideo organized the first Congress of the Uruguayan Carnival. In turn they signaled change in the organization of and reflection about carnivalesque activity. The Congress and the publications of its Report (by Antonio Iglesias, director of the murga Los diablos verdes and president of DAECPU) and the Proceedings of Conclusions and Resolutions (a product of the different commissions formed in the Congress) reflected a landmark in the institutionalization of writings and conferences about the cultural practices of the popular public sphere, written or guided by the protagonists of those practices. An antecedent to this process is found in the collection Repression, Exile, and Democracy: Uruguayan Culture, published in its Spanish version in 1987. The collection was the product of a series of meetings between artists, researchers, and critics organized by Saúl Sosnowski of the Department of Spanish and Portuguese at the University of Maryland. In it, the cultural practices of the popular public spaces are briefly mentioned, albeit with timidity. These mentions, made almost in passing, are nonetheless expressions of new concerns. For example, in discussing what occurred during and after the dictatorship, Sosnowski expresses his preoccupation with analyzing emerging social practices, from the projections to the fairs at Carnival, in terms of their responses to the limits imposed by the regime and their capacity to document other facets of social transformation.59 The political analyst Edy Kaufman wrote that popular mobilization became the principal initiative of opposition to the military regime and resulted in massive protests and street marches that included music, original songs, and a festive environment. This phenomenon inspired Eduardo Galeano, who wrote: Uruguayan culture both survived and proved capable of a vital response to the machinery of death and silence. It thrived in those who stayed and those of us who had to leave: in words passed from hand to hand, from mouth to mouth, clandestine or contraband, hidden or disguised; in actors who spoke current truths through the verses of Greek theater and others who were obliged to roam the face of the earth as strolling players; in the songs of our exiled minstrels and those that resounded defiantly inside the country; in the scientists and artists who refused to sell their souls, in papers and magazines that died and were reborn; in slogans scrawled on

44 / The Interpretation of National Culture city walls and poems scribbled in dungeons on cigarette paper and in the brash murgas of our Carnival celebration.60 Rufinelli wrote that survival required an attitude of internal exile, a passive resistance in which popular song was one of the only means of escape.61 Carina Perelli said that resistance took the form of silent withstanding, communicating with a metaphorical autism, committing minor heresies, and politicizing daily life.62 The songs of Leo Maslíah, political forms of self-mockery and expressions of opposition through satirical, ridiculing observations of the absurdity of life under dictatorship, demonstrated this transformation of everyday forms. These phenomena also preoccupied Alvaro Barros Lémez, who states that in the cultural panorama of the 1980s the Carnival was the only clear space of rebirth. Thus, he argued, Carnival and related dance and festive manifestations demanded study beyond the analysis of carnivalesque texts.63 For Juan Rial, the representations of Carnival allow a vision of the unraveling of basic myths, utopias, and even the counterutopias upon which the national imagination rested, and he lamented that they are not considered in sociological, historical, anthropological, or social psychological studies.64 Mauricio Rosencof, who was kept in isolation for eleven years, summarized the problems of defining culture as an operative concept in his essay in the middle of the original Spanish version: “the concept of culture that Rafael Varela gave us, as Leo Maslíah said, is what we all have. It is the traditions, history, culture, and religion of the people, the popular protests as Leo himself described in the murga. None of us thinks that culture is elaborated by literary texts.”65 These concerns, discoveries, and reevaluations of the other parallel national subcultures, that other country invisible to many that exists and breathes beneath the surface, are related to a series of earlier works focused on popular culture, most of which were written in the mid-1960s. Some of these predecessors are: El carnaval de Montevideo en el siglo XIX (1944) by Miguel Jaureguy; La música en el Uruguay (1953) and El folklore musical uruguayo (1967) by Lauro Ayestarán; El tango y su mundo (1957) by Daniel Vidart, Cancionero popular uruguayo (1943), El negro en el Uruguay (1965), Dinámica del folklore (1966), and Magos y curanderos (1968) by Ildefonso Pereda Valdés; Ese mundo del bajo (1966) by Julio César Puppo; Letras de tango (1965) and Tangos (1967) by Idea Vilariño; Los afro-uruguayos (1967) by Carlos Rama; El carnaval: Evocación de Montevideo en la historia y la tradición (1966), about Carnival in the colonial period, the first years of the Republic, and into the twentieth century, by Antonio Plácido; and El carnaval de Montevideo: Folklore, historia y sociología (1967), about Carnival at

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mid-twentieth century, by Paulo Carvalho Neto. More recently published is El tamboril y la comparsa (1990) by Lauro Ayestarán, Flor de María Rodríguez de Ayestarán, and Alejandro Ayestarán. The interest in rural folklore, the tango, Carnival, and the candombe in the 1940s and 1950s was fueled by cultural producers who sought to include, articulate, and manipulate popular demands, expressions, and interests in order to construct their own national-popular profile and legitimate their own class project, which sympathized with and promoted development projects based in national industrialization. The crisis or failure of that project in the 1960s, as well as growing opposition to it, nourished a similar set of interests in sketching the experiences and expressions of distinct classes and social sectors. But in this second wave, a denunciation and condemnation of the hegemonic order in crisis persevered, and a new project of articulation and social cooperation was formed with various social, political, and cultural objectives. In the 1980s, the interest in the Carnival and the murgas, as well as other cultural practices of the popular public sphere, resurged due to their significance as real or symbolic forms of popular expression and unification in the face of neoliberal “barbarism” and the relative inoperability of established forms of communication and mediation. Liberalism’s failure to make good on its promise of national development caused a profound revisionism that turned to the past and invoked popular cultural practices and traditions. The popular classes were now seen as an irreducible material-natural-sensual bastion, an unconscious collective, a “wastebasket” of the materials and clues needed to imagine and substantiate less absurd and grotesque, more humane and harmonic ways of living and interacting. As a consequence, scholars and analysts cultivated an interest in reevaluating the popular cultural practices that had been suppressed because the government perceived them as “barbarian.” This new approach attempted to counteract the official culture’s tendency to deny and ignore the values, laws, and concept of civilization available at the popular public sphere, even if these norms and practices remained beyond the understanding of the official culture. Unfortunately, all of these cultural changes, protests, and concerns of the 1980s did not reflect fundamental theoretical and disciplinary changes at the levels of educational and research institutions, cultural writings, or public opinion. In fact, beyond the delayed institutionalization and the lack of confirmed results, it remains unclear whether this “new” set of criteria is embraced by the intellectual collective or understood as a sufficient argument for modifying the concept of culture, the objects of cultural studies, and the paradigm of interpreting national culture.

46 / The Interpretation of National Culture Generally, popular cultural and symbolic practices were still underestimated and marginalized, thought of as “minor” productions with “little value or quality,” “para-cultural” (that is, practices that could become cultural, as termed by Carlos Maggi), apart from “our great national themes” (the sacred icons of the national secular pantheon) and the “important issues” of our time. They were not seen as “appropriately artistic or cultural” and were therefore excluded from academic and educational environments. These perceptions depleted and undermined the enthusiasm and participation that had aroused popular forms of expression during the dictatorship and the transition, and led to the tendency to leave these cultural discourses and practices behind, forgetting that, heroic or not, with or without our enthusiasm, they continue to provide the fundamental sustenance for the popular public sphere and thus for any symbolic and social activity. While literary criticism sustained an attitude of distance and ambivalence with regard to opening its doors to the symbolic practices and the popular transculturators circulating throughout the popular public sphere, other disciplines responded more quickly and irreverently. Historiography, anthropology, sociology, and political science appropriated current linguistic, hermeneutical, aesthetic, and literary theories in order to convert these literary objects into historical, sociological, anthropological or political texts. In his history of sensibilities, José P. Barrán situated Carnival and other celebrations of the nineteenth century in a preponderant and illustrative place. These festivities demonstrated the cultural passage from “barbarian” to “disciplined,” although not necessarily civilized, and its consequences. Another historian, Milita Alfaro, also explored the “heroic” nineteenth-century carnival and the transformations that, for better or worse, occurred in the late 1800s. Gerardo Caetano organized the seminar “Temas para una historia de las clases populares en el Uruguay de la modernización 1870 –1900” (Themes for a history of the popular classes in Uruguay during modernization 1870 –1900). The political scientists Carina Perelli and Juan Rial contributed works on military discourse, the function of historical memory, the social imagination of Uruguayans, and national political myths. Sociologist Rafael Bayce explored popular art, Afro-Uruguayan religions, and, more recently, the world vision of the murgas. Some publications of the Centro Latinoamericano de Economía Humana, or Latin American Center of Economics (CLAEH) focused on the traditions, means of mass communication, or cultural industries. These other disciplines are, in fact, pursuing studies that should also be incorporated within the discipline of literary criticism.

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The reconstruction of popular symbolic discourses does not constitute a disciplinary violation nor an interdisciplinary conflict. Each discipline watches, seeks, and operates according to its capacities and objectives. Each one formulates its own premises and questions, creates its own series of problematics, and contributes different theories and knowledge. Literary criticism focuses on the construction, use and social function of narratives, genres, figures of speech, expressions of social experience, ideological conflicts, the way social experiences are symbolically reelaborated and mediated traditions, and institutions that produce symbols, narratives, and meanings. Ultimately, the collective and interdisciplinary convergence around the problem of national culture and circulating popular discourses must be understood as an ideal occasion for facilitating and enriching research. Any practice, gesture, story, or social drama that takes place in the popular public sphere should be understood at face value as constituent or expressive of a symbolic discourse. Thus, these are artifacts that should be included as objects of cultural criticism. Similarly, sociology “constructs its problematic,” or sociological facts; historiography constructs its events, characters, historical sequences, and periods; anthropology constructs its stories, mythologies, and adventures; and architecture, its materials, spaces, places, and ornaments.

Toward a New Interpretive Framework: The Murgas as an Aleph of Our National Culture . . . “down in the cellar there was an Aleph.” He explained that an Aleph is one of the points in space that contains all other points. “It’s in the cellar under the dining room,” he went on, “ . . . I discovered it when I was a child, all by myself. The cellar stairway is so steep that my aunt and uncle forbade my using it, but I’d heard someone say there was a world down there. . . . One day when no one was home I started down in secret, but I stumbled and fell. When I opened my eyes, I saw the Aleph.” “The Aleph?” I repeated. “Yes, the only place on earth where all places are — seen from every angle, each standing clear, without any confusion or blending.”66 . . . “Even if you were to rack your brains, you couldn’t pay me back in a hundred years for this revelation. One hell of an observatory, eh, Borges?”67 After the struggles for independence, which dictated the need to produce a “revolutionary and independent conscience” in Uruguay as well

48 / The Interpretation of National Culture as in other places, literature and literary criticism were interwoven with the construction of a “national conscience” and a “national identity.” Decades later, with the crisis of the liberal, agro-export model and the subsequent implementation of import-substitution industrialization, the focus was on a “national-popular conscience.” During the phase of “constructing nationality,” a select ensemble of literary works was upheld as the bearers of the fundamental narratives, symbols, and images of history, life, and national sentiment. These texts supposedly told the national “drama.” Then, within the cultural logic of populism, literature became a platform or a stage orchestrated by urban middle-class writers and critics to give voices to a whole new set of diverse actors and social agents now associated with the concept of “the people of the nation.” This new logic produced another series of literary works that were understood as the arcs of the popular conscience, “the conscience of the Uruguayan people.” Producing and analyzing these collections of works were the principal tasks of certain erudite and autodidactic intellectuals and later of research institutions and formal teaching. Eventually these were the projects of literature departments and courses in contemporary secondary schools and universities. Social and historical events dictated the needs, concern, and interest that, in turn, shaped theoretical approaches. As a result, literary criticism was thought of alternatively as a tool for analyzing the social and historical problems that “claim life” in the “laboratory” of literary representations; as a study of the logic of the literary representation of experience and imagination; or as a field of investigation that explores the relations between symbolic representations of social conscience and experience itself, with the purpose of reaffirming, problematizing, or contributing to social transformation. In the 1960s, the literary boom and the equally flourishing field of literary criticism expressed the affirmation of national cultures and popular identities as well as the disintegration of societies and national states and, consequently, the crises of national cultures. Writers and critics tried to describe the crisis of the model of dependent capitalist accumulation based in the industrialization of consumer goods, the expansion of an internal market for those goods, the parallel phenomenon of cultural transnationalization which generally signified the diffusion of the metropolitan culture, and the deculturation of peripheral societies. Critics recognized the growing inability to provide prosperity and well-being for everyone or to assure an independent and sustained growth built on participatory democracy, justice, social solidarity, and a more ethical and just use of resources. Throughout Latin America, revolutionary attitudes and movements of nationalist and socialist ideologies testified to the already apparent declines in the social fabric and the quality of life. In response

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to the calls for change, a wave of military dictatorships appeared and promoted the restructuring of the model of capitalist accumulation. In the 1980s, attention was centered on literary questions related to the increasing inequality and injustice of socioeconomic development based in capitalist modernization. Writers focused on the violent imbalance in access to dignity, privileges, and social options; the growth of marginalized or endangered social and ethnic groups; and the struggle against military dictatorships, police repression, organized crime, death squads, and social violence. They also contemplated the relevance of diverse social movements (underrepresented or excluded by traditional politics) that struggled, for example, to promote, defend, and materialize human rights; to end sexual, racial, ethnic, or age discrimination; to seek political emancipation and social justice through religious inspiration; to defend, enrich, and democratize housing, the environment, and patrimony; and to express themselves artistically and culturally (spiritualism, rock, graffiti, drugs, cyberpunks, etc.). In this context, literary criticism turned away from the canon and looked toward testimonial writings to collect the dramas, memories, experiences, perspectives, arguments, and demands of the actors involved in these struggles. Testimonials were a new mestizo genre, a mix of novel, autobiography, conversation, and public performance. Nevertheless, because the few written testimonials or transcripts that were widely available could not express the diversity and complexity of contemporary experiences, many began to recognize that the popular classes generated many other forms and modes of expression aside from the testimonials, including dances, rituals, bodies, spaces, fashion, songs, cooking, celebrations, sports, and sexualities. In spite of all of these changes, most intellectuals apparently did not accept the displacements within literature and literary criticism or the need to replace literary criticism with cultural criticism. Some simply proposed expanding the canon without making any great changes in terms of analyzing national or Latin American cultures. Some withdrew to focus on microtextual and technical problems. Others became interested in the electronic means of mass communication. Given that this analysis privileges the popular classes’ expressions and visions of social, historical, and cultural experiences, even if these expressions and visions absorb other perspectives and symbolic codes, we now turn to the cultural practices of the popular classes. This study, however, is not motivated by an interest in a cultural vernacular rarity, an eagerness for provincialism, nor a nostalgic impulse, nor a defense of traditions. Rather, it is an attempt to formulate a gestalt revelation,68 aimed at updating our tools for understanding of national culture.

50 / The Interpretation of National Culture This perspective is supported by the recognition of three principles. First, representational, ideological, and narrative forms mediate the comprehension and appropriation of reality; they are ties that connect individuals, their consciences, and the world. Second, the social division of labor produces differentiated cultural spheres that contribute to a diversity of available discourses but also provide the spaces for particular articulations and proposals of social meanings. Third, the literary institution, including criticism, has lost significance in terms of the configuration of the public sphere and the national culture. With respect to literature’s prior centrality in the construction of the public sphere, today the diminishing centrality of the “cultured” space or literary forms is seen clearly in the overwhelming presence of nonliterary forms of mass communication such as radio, television, music, theater, and video and in the emergence of exclusive circuits of electronic communication (personal computers connected to central computers, satellites, transmitting antennae, fax machines, photocopiers, scanners, laser printers and laser discs, modems, telephones, CD-ROMs, videos, e-mail, the Internet, cable television, etc.) The loss is also visible in the low production and consumption of books, journals, weekly magazines, and even newspapers; in the growing erosion and disappearance of public spaces, public cultural activities, and forums of public dialogue and expression, and in the ruinous, abandoned, and ghostly conditions of the public school system, the University of the Republic, the School of Humanities, the National Library, publication departments, and the Institute of the Book as a consequence of neoliberal fiscal policies and resource allocations. In sum, the loss of the literary institution is seen when one observes the wall and the distances that separate the literary world from the daily lives of the popular classes, in which another series of expressive media and symbolic discourses exist. Independent of will or desire, these other discourses, rather than the great works of Uruguayan literature promoted by the literary institution, constitute the social sensibilities, the dramas, imaginations, and fantasies that characterize, orient, and give meaning to human existence, daily life, social experience, and the historical process. If the term “public sphere” refers to the territory of social life where citizens congregate to form the public and where public opinion is conformed, this concept must take into account the fragmentation of the public sphere as a result of the differentiation of social and cultural experiences, cultural production, and exchange. With this fragmentation in mind, the objects of study are the practices in which the popular classes are central actors of symbolic and cultural production and the circulating discourses of the popular public sphere, appropriated and reelaborated by the popular classes, or popular transculturators. In order to visualize

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and problematize the system of discourses and social tasks from the perspective of the popular public sphere, one must adopt the position, the interpretive criteria, and the operative critiques of those very spaces and discourses. Thus, the theaters of Carnival in general and the murgas in particular are very appealing as objects of analysis. The murgas represent a social and symbolic practice that is generally ignored or undervalued by official culture because academia does not sanction them as a literary form. (These cultural practices altered the panorama of the national culture to a point that the hermeneutics of the “critical generation” could no longer absorb and metabolize the culture.) Studying the murgas also breaks with a one-dimensional, static, and reified notion of national identities and cultures and provides new parameters for more enduring analyses and problematizations. No less important, such a consideration seeks to visualize and problematize how the popular classes represent the world, their lives and purposes in the understanding that a project of sociocultural reorganization will have to be supported by both the popular classes’ position in social production as well as their sensibilities, desires, and reasons. In consequence, we can construct an image of our society only if we realize and position ourselves within the diverse projects and images that circulate through a variety of forms, spaces, channels, and levels. Thus, a shift in the interpretive paradigm to focus on the popular public sphere and the murgas’ process of popular transculturation seems to be propitious and advantageous. Through this paradigm shift, the cultural practices and constant symbolic rearticulations circulating through the popular public sphere disrupt and cause the collapse of the traditional narratives and myths created vis-à-vis the national culture sustained by the official culture. It is thus possible to reconstruct a national image and project corresponding to the expressions of different subcultures that integrate the national culture, assuring the necessary degrees of completeness and accountability. The perspective from the popular public sphere allows for an inclusive, globalizing, and dynamic model of cultural criticism, able to capture the residues and permanent traits, but fundamentally, the incorporations, changes, and innovations that are periodically produced within “the map of the national culture.” If in the past the institutions and cultural practices of the popular classes played a conservative role and contributed to the bourgeois hegemony (cultural and otherwise), in the last twenty years they have changed their role to contribute to the formation of a democratic, national, and popular conscience. Breaking away from the models of prior decades, a radical generation of popular transculturators has substituted uncritical cultural reproduction, conformity, nostalgia, formal depletion, and repetition with a critical attitude and a diversification of aesthetic

52 / The Interpretation of National Culture proposals. Such is the case with the murgas, these teams of genuine transculturators, made up of actors, musicians, lyricists, composers, managers, directors, costume designers, stylists, choreographers, artisans, handymen, and many others who contribute to the production, as well as the audiences, hecklers, and critics who participate in and mediate the spectacles via their appreciation and tastes or contribute to the reflection and modification of the performances throughout the Carnival period. In the particular context of the censorship and repression imposed by the dictatorship and with the advance of mass communication (which fundamentally broadcasts the mass culture of the United States), some murgas, along with other cultural practices,69 served as the guardians of memory, a repository for the cultural and historical referents displaced by the regime. They became a congregational and expressive institution for different social sectors to articulate and negotiate their experiences, world visions, interests, and sensibilities. The murga was not restricted to a locus amenus, an exceptional, inoffensive, and fleeting moment to overturn complaints and protests or make jokes and innocuous comments. It became a form of convocation, a way of making possible the real and imaginary reunion of those opposed to the dictatorship, of representing the landmarks of the historical and spatial continuity of the democratic national-popular project and of promoting and negotiating alternative images of state and society. The murga also questioned genericism, the official, fossilized myths and stereotypes, calling attention to the distorted or forgotten territories preserved in the “wastebaskets” of Carnival. Thus, that which the official culture threw away as trash was not lost but was salvaged and recycled in ritual and mythical forms, in the spaces and circuits fashioned by people to preserve memories, to meet and communicate in spite of the repressive conditions. In time, these practices became an institution specializing in the recollection and rearticulation of a narrative and symbolic universe that did not find other spaces for expression or circulation. Beyond the apparent nostalgia, feelings of identification, or provincial and nationalist sentiment that Carnival evokes among many Uruguayans, the reasons listed above also explain why the murgas, their forms of representing and assigning meaning to life and history, have been affecting and modeling perceptions, mentalities, and sensibilities as well as other cultural practices and modes of expression such as popular song and theater. To explore the forms in which the popular classes produce and manifest their world vision (based on their particular sociohistorical experiences) demands the ability to understand the places and ways that vision is expressed. The analyst should be able to shift in terms of perspective and enunciation and, therefore, create a shift in hermeneutic positioning.

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This repositioning does not necessarily underestimate prior hermeneutics. It does not attempt, for example, to abandon the proposal of creating a “national conscience” or “conscious and responsible citizens.” Nor does it ignore the significance of a “world vision” and a “conscience necessary for being part of a historical project,” the legitimate and constant concerns of creators and critics throughout history. It also does not reject “ethical” or “aesthetic” values, or the role of such values in social experience. Rather than rejecting, it asks: which social conscience, which state, which image of the world, which historical project, which values, which civilization? Who are the civilized and who are the barbarians? Which are the distinct interests, values, images, and civilizing projects circulating and in conflict? This paradigmatic shift does not attempt to continue assuming that novels, poetry, or “cultured” works of drama are the only representational models, as if they could exhaust all proposed meanings, or that these are the only discourses that should receive attention. If these were the official texts, they must at least confront and “dialogue” with the discourses circulating at the level of the popular public sphere. From the perspective of these popular discourses, desirable values, and the images of society, the state or history are heated issues, the objects of dispute as characterized by the confrontations between protagonists, antagonists, and the chorus in the popurrís and cuplés; by the opposition between the sacred space of Carnival and the profane space outside; and even by the dispute performed among the diverse murgas or types of murgas, between the “true” murgas and the “spurious” murgas, among the murgas-murgas, the murgas of the people and “the anti-murgas.” Consequently, to rebuild the image of the nation, national history, or national culture, analysis must consider the national narratives, historical characters and landmarks, artistic canons, gods, heroes, and values that circulate through each Carnival and occupy a good part of the presentaciones and retiradas that initiate and close, respectively, the spectacles of the murgas.70 This reformulated interpretive paradigm of national culture, in which the literary paradigm is substituted by the discourses of the murgas, is not limited to the way in which the discourses of different subjects and historical agents are represented in canonical spaces and forms, a limitation that occurred in the critical generation’s writings. The shift turns our attention to the rearticulated expressions and circulating positions of the national popular public sphere, which are not to be perceived as expressions of a singular “national-popular culture” or as the “authentic” manifestations of such a culture. Simply, a national-popular culture can be constructed only with a base that consists of articulations of the multiple existing subcultures, which are expressed in the popular public sphere, and even though these subcultures recycle the discourses of

54 / The Interpretation of National Culture others available in the sphere, their transformations and reelaborations produce a new set of discourses, interpretations, and explanations. The analysis of the murgas’ productions also reveals this aspect of national cultural production. In terms of language and representation, the genre of the murga illustrates a transculturating mechanism, a “cannibalistic” form that manipulates icons, genres, and the many circulating symbolic elaborations of experience. In this genre, the epic, the tragedy, and the romance coexist alongside the picaresque, the satire, the burlesque, and the parody. The televisual, musical, or governmental discourses share and struggle within the same space as the concerns, feelings, and world visions that circulate at “the level of the street” and daily living. Their texts, music, and dramatizations, therefore, are made of fragments and reelaborations of popular music and texts (from the international melodic genre, U.S. pop, the nueva trova cubana, modernist poetry, the heroic poetry or popular songs of the 1810 Revolution) and their characters, themes, and situations are taken from history, the press, television, film, theater, literature, and American, African, Judeo-Christian, or Greek mythology. Following this model, the canonical literature, so often privileged and considered “the national culture,” should not be forgotten or ignored. Nevertheless, official literature should be reprioritized, resituated, and reviewed according to the current national-popular discursive map; that is, through the lens or filter of public popular discourses. The disjuncture between prioritizing “the cultured” at the cost of marginalizing “the popular,” or overvaluing the hegemonic forms of media at the price of underestimating residual or emerging forms71 is thus resolved through a strategy of connecting these forms and discourses within a total and dialectical problematic. Without needing to fantasize and inject a “popular conscience” on an “alienated people,” or to celebrate all popular manifestations as authentic, original, knowing, spontaneous, or pure (as tourists, traditionalists, merchants, and romantics might concur), considerations of the cultural practices of the popular public sphere can provide a portrait of the national culture as an encounter space of conflict, tension, and symbolic dispute (so characteristic of the murga aesthetic) in which, to put it another way, the popular classes have the floor. The constellation of murguista representations offers the possibility of “bringing together” the subcultures that coexist in the social space while allowing for the necessary consideration of the represented conflicts, ensembles, and arrangements. In this sense, the instances of encounter and negotiation of meaning that constitute the representations of the tablados (that is, the paradigm of the murga) become a means of constructing and negotiating a meaning of the realities that were explored in ecclesiastical rituals (the biblical

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paradigm), in the theatrical ceremonies and representations of the major plazas (the paradigm of the mundi theater) of the baroque theater; in the encyclopedias, novels, and newspapers (the literary paradigm); in the public processions and assemblies (the urban paradigm) of nineteenthcentury Europe; or in the cybernetic, televisual, or information paradigms of the twentieth-century industrialized societies. In the ways that these practices absorb, articulate, and reelaborate the discourses in circulation (including other operative paradigms), become the point of encounter of national popular culture, and capture and illustrate key problems of national cultural production, these practices can be conceptualized as an aleph from which we can access a broad and complex notion of national culture that is inaccessible and invisible from other perspectives. Depending on literary criticism’s ability to be converted into cultural criticism and to find a substitute for the literary paradigm, the discipline (and studies of national culture in general) can recover the operability and social value that were lost when the literary institution failed to be the imaginary space of the public sphere and the bastion and synthesis of national culture. When this occurs, cultural criticism can facilitate the processes of understanding and critiquing our world. Cultural criticism can also contribute to an increasing consciousness of the discourses that make up the symbolic universe that nourishes imaginations, sensibilities, and the awareness of social experience and agency. If we accept that the way of understanding and representing human, social, and historical experience is indispensable to a conscious, collective, and planned social transformation, it is clear that a reflection of those experiences and the ways that they are represented, which occurs in the cultural practices of the popular public sphere with all of their distortions, disputes, and insights, can contribute to rebuilding the project of an alternative culture and a consequent praxis. Now that I have described the literary and sociopolitical contexts, I turn in the next section to Carnival itself and the murgas of the 1980s. First I focus on the social, economic, political, and symbolic circumstances that transformed these Carnival troupes into one of the privileged institutions of the popular public sphere and into archetypal popular transculturators. Subsequently I propose a series of interpretive readings of the murgas that is intended to capture axes of meaning and the nuclei of conflicts that are central at the level of the popular public sphere and gravely important to national culture in general.

– Two –

To Open Up the Night: Carnival and the Struggle for a National, Democratic, and Popular Order If I don’t much a change my guitar string my chord, how can we sing “the New,” “the left,” “the edge”? If I don’t little the much I lose or wound, how can we put any hope into “I love you”? [Si no muchito un cambio mi cuerda mi acorde . . . ¿cómo cantar “lo nuevo” “lo izquierdo” “lo borde”? Si no poco lo mucho que pierdo o que hiero . . . ¿cómo dar esperanza al “te amo” al te quero”?] — Daniel Viglietti, from “Mucho, poquito y nada,” Esdrújulo, 1994

Galileo’s theories, written in a popular language, are diffused among the people: singers of ballads, pamphleteers, and minstrels spread new and modern ideas throughout the country. In the 1632 Carnival, many cities chose astronomy as a theme for their professional troupes.1

The Murgas: Celebrations of the Status Quo or Propagators of “the New Ideas”? Before turning to the murgas of the 1980s, I will consider their appearances during the late 1960s and early 1970s, through the gradual militarization of Uruguayan society and particularly at the moment of the coup d’état. For Carvalho Neto, the murga characterized itself by critiquing and ridiculing current themes and events.2 Official regulations of the period stipulated that the murgas were to “execute songs of wholesome humor or critique, on musical compositions or current themes, excluding all obscene words, gestures, allusions.”3 Within these limitations, the murgas were instructed to express the tragicomic meaning of existence, and the performer was expected to express his or her feelings and thoughts through the spectacle. While other theater groups 56

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were heard on the radio throughout the year, the murgas emerged only during Carnival, after which they disappeared. Each year they returned, renewed and refreshed, for Carnival. In contrast with other genres, the murga was considered to be the “least technical” and the “most raw” and illegitimate form, particularly because its participants were neither professional actors nor famous singers.4 At mid-century, the number of ensembles oscillated between ten and twenty; only four or five of these were prominent. The remaining troupes performed for fun or to poke fun at themselves. The murga chorus consisted of four voices or sections, totaling approximately sixteen people. Besides the chorus, the murga also required an animator, a battery of percussionists, a choral director, and a murga director. Relegated to a second plane were the writer, printer, and seller of verses, the costume designer, tailors, owner of the rehearsal hall, face painter, contractor, driver, and the sign-carrier in the parade. The sections of the chorus generally consisted of two basses, four or five “seconds,” eight or nine “firsts” and two tenors. Three percussionists played the bass drum, snare drum, and cymbals. Of the three, the most experienced or skilled, the “veteran,” directed the battery.5 The singing director led rehearsals and the animator enlivened the spectacle, announced the acknowledgements and songs, and advertised the patron(s). The director, the murga’s “axis,” managed its business, administration, and patronage. He was responsible for contracts and dismissals. In contrast with year-round theater companies, performers were not bound to particular murgas and could work with another troupe without formal impediments. The director sought performers two or three months before the season, favored those with some prior experience in the Carnivals, and weeded out “undesirables,” those who had the vice of acting when they had been drinking “too much.”6 The director also designated the Honor Committee, which provided some financing, sought commercial or industrial patrons, and paid the participants after the performances. Participants were paid according to their parts and they were not paid for rehearsals. Since performers generally lived in distant neighborhoods, the director compensated them for transportation. In the performance, the director placed himself in front of the chorus, dressed in a clownish costume with a painted face, and performed mimicry and burlesque. In spite of the administrative and scenic centrality of the director, the lyricist provided the murga’s character and played the most significant part monetarily.7 The participants were generally low-paid citizens of the working class: street vendors, laborers in wool or timber mills, ironworks or refrigeration employees, construction workers, etc.8 Consistent with a racial segregation inherited from the nineteenth century, the murgas included few or no Afro-Uruguayans in their

58 / To Open Up the Night productions. While blacks participated in the general, inaugural parade and the various staged performances, the Afro-Uruguayan subculture always had its own Carnival. Originally, the processions, parties, and Christian dances of colonial Montevideo included the participation of African slaves, “blacks, mulattoes, and mestizos” who marched in the parade, performed dramatic dances, and became one of the main attractions of the celebration. In their heyday, the candombes, or African dances, were celebrated every Sunday and especially on New Year’s Day, Christmas, and the days of Resurrection and St. Benedict. The most grandiose and important celebration was on the day of the Three Wise Men. On this day, the party and candombe took place in the Market Plaza on the edges of the city’s southern gate. The dance’s varied choreography began with a procession, followed by a formation of lanes and rings, ending with a “disorderly and wild scene of movement.” The king and the queen of the corresponding “nation” presided over the dances and were seconded by the minister and the judge, the masters of ceremony in the hall and the street, respectively. A procession led to a mass at the Iglesia Matriz where civil and ecclesiastical authorities received delegations of “the African societies,” generally consisting of the kings and their entourages. In the final segment of the celebration, participants danced the great candombe and “pushed the limits of sensuality in their weary, inebriated states.” To organize and rehearse, members of the African nations met in temporary halls constructed in the mangers of the old city’s suburbs. These ramshackle stone houses, built in mud and covered with tiles, generally consisted of three rooms: The Hall for the kings, another for the oratory with the images of St. Benedict, St. Baltasar, and St. Anthony, and a third for the dance rehearsals. When they lacked space for the candombes, the performers went out to the streets, to the Paseo del Recinto near the Plaza del Mercado and the Cubo del Sur. Today’s comparsas and llamadas, the batteries of drummers that pass through Montevideo’s streets in the summer, are descendants of some of the few diversions of the colonial era. In Zum Felde’s eyes, the candombes were “grotesque, lugubrious dances in which blacks, dressed in the recycled formal wear of their masters, evoked the ancestral magical rites of their jungles and, dancing feverishly to the monotonous beat of drums and chants, contorted themselves in an epileptic frenzy.” The candombe and comparsas were unique products of transculturation and the incorporation of slaves into the colonial society. After disappearing in 1870, companies of blacks returned as part of Carnival’s processions. The later comparsas consisted of rhythmic dancing accompanying percussion, a form that Afro-Uruguayans had cultivated in their own spaces, along with singing, an adaptation to the customs of whites. In the Carnival of 1870, twelve white companies and three

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black comparsas participated. The latter were entitled Los pobres negros orientales (The poor black orientales), Raza africana (African race), and Los negros (The blacks). The Carnival of 1876 included the comparsas of negros lubolos, or whites with their faces painted black who had studied and appropriated the Afro-Uruguayan tradition. Today’s comparsas are descendants of this minstrel form.9 In general, the murgas have excluded women performers. The exceptions include the many nineteenth-century comparsas that were made up of women, the appearance of a woman in the 1932 performance of Don Bochinche y Cía directed by Perlita Cuou (this according to Carvalho Neto), and today’s Anti-murga BCG. In 1988, Joseline Calderoni confronted numerous obstacles and pressures when she attempted to produce a murga of women, Otra voz canta (Another voice sings) and ultimately she failed. Milita Alfaro reminds us, however, that the nineteenth-century Carnivals included a minority of comparsas de señoritas (ladies’ comparsas).10 Fourteen of the thirty-six groups that performed in the 1871 Carnival were comparsas de señoritas. Their themes and characters were diverse: the display of charms in las tentadoras y las irresistibles (The temptresses and the irresistible); the insinuations of nuns who, with their corresponding mother abbess, consoled the suffering and the sinners; the grace and craftiness of Las viudas de Sorongo (The widows of Sorongo), a gang of widows and buxom women dressed as seductresses directed by Doña Temístocles; and the building of political platforms, as in La radical, which in the context of La revolución de las lanzas became an outspoken antagonist of traditional parties. In time, however, women’s participation in the murgas evaporated. When a murga included a female part, a man played the role wearing a dress and braids. According to earlier regulations and participant consensus, the murgas were obligated to exclude women. It was believed that their participation would inhibit the conversation and body language among men and “[bring] depravity to this critical form and while depravity itself is not a problem, one must use morality to be critical or all is lost.”11 Such rationales preserved the rehearsals and productions as a space for men and did little to preserve morality or good manners. Similarly, the various edicts, regulations, and prizes controlled and subjected the Carnival to a code of conduct, morals, and norms that were sanctioned by society and state. This code of standards limited and conspired against spontaneity and freedom of expression12 and delineated representational forms and meanings in terms of artistry, theatricality, morality, and economics. “To operate outside of the boundaries” brought disqualification from the contest or, worse, the accusation of “assaulting morality and public order.”

60 / To Open Up the Night Rehearsals took place in salons, on open-air patios, or in social and sports clubs. The drummers and the signs displaying the lyrics for all to read, sing, and memorize were located at the opening of a semicircle or horseshoe. In the center, the choral leader directed the singing and movement of the chorus with physical gestures. To one side, the director and the lyricist supervised and improved the scores, texts, and movements. Carvalho Neto wrote that the murga Los amantes al engrudo rehearsed on the Belgrano Olympic Club’s basketball field. They practiced every day from nine to eleven at night after a full day’s work while friends, family members, admirers, and neighborhood children came to watch. “Their music was sad and discordant, like an unhappy circus, with a bass drum that tried to lift the spirits . . . a music that went to the bottom of one’s heart seeking unfathomable sentiments.”13 On the stage, the murga formed a horseshoe with its opening toward the audience. The Honor Commission was seated in the first row with the public in rows behind. The performers always wore costumes corresponding to the annual theme because the clothing and lyrics had to relate to each other. The costumes were luxurious, made especially for the occasion with brilliant fabrics and bright colors, and were not necessarily equal in every section. Typically, the participants painted their faces with unrelated motifs. At first the participants used burned cork to paint their faces. Later they used more sophisticated procedures. On top of a white foundation they painted black eyebrows, moustaches, and sideburns and brightened their cheeks with vibrant colors. They sprinkled metallic dust on their skin to “enliven” their faces. For economic reasons, the murgas later replaced their paints with the dusts and creams made for women.14 The spectacle was fairly structured and, contrary to popular opinion on its improvisation and spontaneity as well as the supposed “authenticity” of the 1950s murgas, very distinct from the first murgas of the 1910s. Paulo de Carvalho Neto, Gustavo Diverso, and others15 wrote that around 1910, Antonio Garín and his murga, La Gaditana que se va, appeared in Montevideo’s Carnival within the category of the masquerade. The Andalusian actors, directed by the zarzuela’s actor Diego Muñoz, were imitating the actual La Gaditana as it appeared in the Casino Theater. La Gaditana consisted of five comedians playing homemade instruments that formed a type of “entr’acte” or a series of humorous review numbers or current Montevidean operettas. It functioned as a parody and satirical counterpoint to the serious performances (tragedies, epics, melodramas, etc.) of “high culture.” José Ministeri wrote that Muñoz’s La Gaditana was eventually performed as a main act in the theater of San Felipe. “Simple wind instruments provided the

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melody for a chorus of eccentric characters dressed in fantastic costumes, rotating bowties, and shabby top hats of a grotesque form.”16 Both “the original” and “the copy” were described as sounding rather “disjointed.” In La Gaditana, Muñoz used a saxophone, bugle, flute, cymbals, and bass drum (following, perhaps, the example of the Chirigota del puerto, a troupe from his native Cádiz). Garín’s murga included the same instruments and added a trombone, clarinet, and a collection of homemade instruments of strange and grotesque physiognomies (early predecessors of today’s Les Luthiers). The performers were dressed in comic styles or as caricatures. The director was set apart by his frenetic gymnastics. The clever verses with their double meanings referred to various social or sports events of public interest. La Gaditana que se va and the other murgas that emerged after 1910 were orchestrated by a director and five or six people, each playing a different instrument. Years later, when Muñoz passed La hispana-uruguaya to Ernesto Nogara, he advised Nogara to satirize reality, interpret picaresque lyrics without openly offending morality and good manners, use a good dosage of irony, and make characterizations with grace. Crazy Reyes’s Los amantes al engrudo also showcased the flute, saxophone, bugle, bass drum, and cymbals along with risqué verses that criticized the government and discussed soccer as a principal theme. Considered the mother of all murgas, this was the most famous, most censored, and least awarded in murga history. José Ministeri remembered La excéntrico musical and Los pichones de este año, which used kitchenware and other items, including a candelabra with smoking papers attached, as instruments. In 1915, Los profesores diplomados introduced the snare drum and various other instruments. Hence the melodic base and meter from the repertoire of the popular zarzuelas were added to the existent theatrical moments, a combination that made the murgas more dynamic than other companies. In 1917, Los políticos de la época by Ernesto Nogara and Juan Tenore (“Born out of the beating drum / the unknowing mob”) reignited the sociopolitical satire and critique characteristic of some nineteenth-century comparsas. Years later, to make the murga more brilliant and suspenseful, Los patos cabreros introduced the cymbals as accompanying instruments. Obviously, today’s murgas are very different from these original versions. In terms of dramatic structure, the murga began with the animator’s entrance and introduction of the murga. After the animator greeted the public, the troupe entered and sang a greeting song to introduce the particular murga’s “defining character” and tell the audience why one came to do Carnival. Next followed the couplet, the pot-purrí, and finally the retirada, or “farewell song.” The couplets consisted of critical verses that

62 / To Open Up the Night were intended to satirize a current social or political issue. As a backdrop to the verses, the metered base was provided by a familiar tune, but one never used before by other murgas. Generally, the themes consisted of lively stories, novelties, or sensational news items propagated by the press. Pure politics was avoided, for political issues “conspire against the murga itself.”17 The pot-purrí was a sequence of commentaries, jokes, and critiques structured around the melodic base and the meter of wellknown songs. The retirada was an occasion for celebrating (for example, soccer victories),18 mourning the participants’ departure from the audience (a tragedy for the participant who must return to silence and his real life and also for the audience, now deprived of the joy that the performers offered), and their promised or prophesied return at next year’s Carnival. Mauricio Rosencof considered the murga one of the most complete expressions of popular art in our country, in which “you have costuming, music, the initial sparks of real poetry, and criticism. It is one aspect of our commedia dell’arte . . . , created by bus-drivers, paper delivery men, glass, meat-packing, and textile workers.”19 According to Milita Alfaro, “through a process of many years, [the murga] unfolded in that uniquely Montevidean rhythm of bass and snare drums and cymbals, and it was rediscovered in the 1980s as a most genuine display of our folklore.”20 Paulo de Carvalho Neto wrote: . . . [it was exciting that], between sunset and sunrise, scores of people with theatrical aspirations and sensibilities emerged from Montevideo’s working and middle classes. Employees of wool or timber factories, the railroads, mills, banks, pharmacies, customs, the state electrical company, pink-collar workers, public servants, mechanics, carpenters, bus drivers, electricians, textile laborers, sign makers, instrument makers, furniture refinishers, floor makers, shoe makers, law students, professional singers and unemployed men became artists while the stage’s neighbors formed an intelligent and respectful audience and cheered them on.21 These writers’ appraisals notwithstanding, Carnival and the murgas were rarely attributed much significance. Due to their history and function, Carnival and the murgas, along with the values and institutions that sustained them, were bound up with the administrative functions and the symbolic order of the state. In spite of the secularizing movement of the modern state, developmentalist, populist, ethnocentric, and Catholic narratives permeated and structured the national culture and particularly popular culture, a phenomenon that continues to this day.

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Carnival and Christian celebrations have always been the two sides of one coin. At times, Carnival was even more domesticated and controlled than the festivities of the Christian calendar. The inversions and burlesque of Carnival, while permitting ephemeral celebrations of counter-cultural identities, also reaffirmed and popularized the values, programs, and institutions of the status quo. Carnival created a space for subcultures to express themselves, but within a format that was regulated and subordinated by the official culture. It also operated as an effective means of the bourgeois hegemony’s administration, the integration or cooptation of various social sectors into the bourgeois national project, and moreover, the renovation and enforcement of the symbolic and imaginary cement that sustained and nurtured the country’s bourgeois structure. José Pedro Barrán, Milita Alfaro, and others wrote that Carnival, as an object of first ecclesiastical and later state discipline, was restricted to specific places and times, behaviors, and expressive forms, all of which were tabulated and codified by functionaries and state aesthetes. A vast number of controls and censures shaped Carnival. Water play and obscenities were the first items to be prohibited, followed by going in costume as a pregnant woman, priest, or military official, using religious or patriotic symbols [“the use of outfits and verses that satirize political or philosophical ideas is prohibited”22], or more generally attacking the social order and its institutions. This occurred first at the level of the private stages and clubs, where the organizers reserved the right to limit, regulate, and even dictate the mode in which people wore costumes. Gerardo Caetano and José Rilla cited a warning from an 1894 edition of the newspaper Montevideo Noticioso that told its readers: with the goal of avoiding the last-minute arguments that can arise, members and guests are advised that entrance to the dance hall is prohibited to all those not dressed in the Pierrot suit according to the following guidelines, as described in this society’s secretaryship: white blouse and pants with no adornments of any sort, a tie for the blouse with two light blue pompoms, a white ruff, an unadorned cap, black socks, white shoes with a light blue pompom, and a black half mask.23 State offices and functionaries also subjected the public sphere and Uruguay’s citizens to general restrictions. Alleging that Carnival was an unrestricted and uncontrolled “public spectacle” (in contrast to a theatrical performance or film prohibited only to minors, for example), many believed that the carnivalesque spectacles had to be subjected to greater restrictions so that they “would not contribute, in any way, to the destruction of social values.” Carnival participants, however, did not

64 / To Open Up the Night automatically act in resistance to this position and its consequent restrictions. Indeed, some performers and creators collaborated with the processes of specifying and applying the Regulation. While Carnival reflected voluntary expressions of rebellion, resistance, and subversion, many participants internalized and normalized a highly restricted code of conduct to a great degree. Many performers, lyricists, directors, managers, or Carnival functionaries willingly professed and reproduced the code as a form of poetics. Since obedience to the administrative imperatives of the state or conformity to the status quo characterized a good part of carnivalesque practices, political forces of the national left and the workers’ movement criticized Carnival and its adherents for some time. Antonio Iglesias, director of Diablos verdes (the green devils) and president of Directores Asociados de Espectáculos Carnavaleros y Populares del Uruguay (DAECPU), wrote that leftist movements of the early twentieth century harshly criticized Carnival and all of its aspects, deploying attacks that were even fiercer than the church’s degradations.24 These critics shared their condemnation with the bourgeoisie and other illustrative sectors that saw Carnival as a space for debauchery, slothfulness, immorality, bohemia, and a lack of social conscience, a bane to the proletarian ethic and social progress. With a more specifically leftist and counter-bourgeois critique, progressive movements also attacked Carnival’s embrace of the status quo, its reproduction of the bourgeois class order, and finally its tendency to avoid the central problems, perspectives, interests, and struggles of the working classes. The character of Carnival as public, unrestricted, and open to wide participation is bound up with its location on outdoor neighborhood stages, or tablados. Carnivalesque performances at these raised tablados peaked around the middle of this century. Along with the theater and hotel and club dances that were often accompanied by prestigious orchestras and musical groups, the Summer Theater’s Carnival contest and the llamadas constituted part of the wide variety of public attractions intended to entertain distinct social classes. Nevertheless, these dances of the theater, salon, and outdoor stage, which originated partially in the processions, ceremonies, and dances celebrated in the street and in peoples’ homes, date back to the late nineteenth century. After a first installation of a tablado in front of the Teatro Solís in 1872, three official stages were built in the Plaza of the Constitution, Independence Plaza, and Plaza Cagancha. With the initiation of the neighborhood commission in 1892, the first neighborhood tablado was built in the former Saroldi Plazoleta located at Rivera and the 18th of July Avenues. In 1904, seeking support among the working and modest classes, José Batlle y Ordóñez’s government encouraged public spectacles by using community money to build stages. Over time, the

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growth of stages reflected the burgeoning population. Civil society and small merchants like the “street grocer,” for example, also supported the construction of stages. Around 1913 the murgas were delighting the audiences of boisterous neighborhood stages, obligatory meeting places on summer nights in Montevideo. Alfredo Moreno, a former member of the group Vagabundos de fibra, which presented minor works of profound social content, developed the Movement of Neighborhood Theaters in the 1950s with the goal of opening a cultural center in each neighborhood. Thereafter, more than 30 stages were established through the Federation of Neighborhood Theaters. Between 1945 and 1954, the number of Carnival sets and stages fluctuated between 80 and 160. Neighborhood stages became the natural setting for carnivalesque representations. With sets reduced to their most minimalist expression and free of the excesses of theatrical machinery, the tablado shaped the spectacle of today’s murgas.25 As part of “the culture of the tablados,” the murgas’ representations functioned on various levels. They united and entertained people, provided an occasion for the proliferation of certain small-scale businesses, and on some occasions articulated certain problems or channeled criticisms of economic, social or political indolence. With a few exceptions, the murgas did not transcend the microcosm of the neighborhood, nor did they pretend to counter the general conformity or constitute a revolutionary collective. In time, the picturesque costumes and grandiose carriages, which emulated European Carnivals, and the introduction of water bottles, masks, streamers, and confetti signaled a return to an earlier, more ornamental, derivative, and conformist style. The value of Carnival as a real and symbolic space for reunion, amusement, expression, and socialization was marginal, particularly because other forms of organization and social life had emerged. These other forms included the integration of the population into the workforce and an ordered, urban life; formal, state-supported education; mass communication, including newspapers, radio, and television; and athletic and patriotic rituals, including popular records, pamphlets, and romance and adventure novels. Carnival’s eventual transformation reflects the commercialization of the modern theater spectacle and its generation of profits and consumption. Carnival became a cheap form of entertainment, an excuse to sell goods and services to the poorer classes, a symbol and an instrument of neighborhood populism or clientelism, and an annual illusion that diffused the perception of Uruguay’s social and political integration. In its emulation of European Carnivals, Montevideo’s Carnival posed as a symbol of modernity, sophistication, and relevance to the false notion of a universal culture.

66 / To Open Up the Night In contradistinction with the enthusiasm and the appraisals of Alfaro, Rosencof, and Carvalho Neto, Juan Rial wrote that Carnival was a celebration of Uruguayan society’s myths of “happiness and mediocrity.” In various contexts, this myth nourished other mythologies including, most significantly, that of a white, European Uruguay, “the Switzerland of the Americas” or “the Athens of the River Plate,” which was also democratic, peaceful, consensual, cultured, middle-class, and inhabited by the champions of America and the world.26 On the role of the Carnival and of the murgas in particular, Rial wrote that Uruguay’s Carnival was more counter-utopian than messianic. It did not suggest the subversion, questioning, or inverting of social conventions. It was no more than “a sounding board of expectations and hopes,”27 the expression of the subaltern and poorer sectors.28 These sectors sought to exercise their right to express some critique, or they simply affirmed the various mythologies of a “contented Uruguay” or the “eternal Montevideo.” “There is no place like Uruguay” was the motto of a greatness and singularity that was upheld not in the Uruguayan Exodus of 1811 or the Revolutionary Campaign of 1825, but in the “soccer epics of Montevideo, Colombes [France], and Amsterdam, where only Carlos Gardel . . . reached the heights of José Nasazzi.”29 Because of its entanglement with the institution of soccer, the myth of a glorious Uruguay also affirmed the mythological glory of Uruguayan soccer. In 1950, a divine year for this set of mythologies, both soccer and Carnival allowed people to reaffirm their national pride and embrace the mediocrity that was forged, ironically, by hope. These rituals, Rial concluded, did not subvert, but rather accentuated and enhanced reality. “Through this hyperrealism, imagination is bypassed and the result is a nourishing of myths and the memories that sustain them.”30 Antonio Plácido and Milita Alfaro found exceptions to Rial’s theory among spectacles that attacked the bourgeois, oligarchic state. They noted that with the political conflict of the early 1870s as backdrop, the performance troupes Los oportunos, critics of the economic policies of General Lorenzo Batlle’s government, and Los misteriosos, guests at Minister José Bustamente’s villa, reenacted political conflicts by staging dramas between principistas and candomberos. Los oportunos parodied a “free election” in the Plaza Matriz that denounced the efforts of political bosses to buy or win votes. Around 1872, public censorship took its first toll when authorities “advised” those responsible for La marina oriental to cease their overly exact representations of reality.31 With the exceptions of these critical spectacles and others that protested Feliciano Viera’s anti-labor and anti-popular politics32 or the 1930s dictatorship of Gabriel Terra, the panorama generally fit Rial’s description through the late 1960s. The civility, urbanity, and conformity that

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characterized Carnival, adorned with some timid, superfluous and ambiguous critiques that criticized everyone and offended no one, along with a certain amount of vulgarity and sexual joking, continued throughout the century and is still reflected in today’s public spectacles. Nevertheless, the situation began to change somewhat in the 1960s when many “cultural workers,” responding to the country’s social and political crisis and allied with other Latin American revolutionary movements, sought to rescue and revive national folklore and popular traditions. The workers restored some of the original symbolic, aesthetic, and social functions and transformed them into the raw materials and spaces for social change. At this point Carnival was no longer merely a space for complaint and the symbolic negotiation of inclusion in the social order. It became a space for the constitution of a collective national-popular agency aimed at questioning, disrupting, and dismantling the current symbolic and social order. This phenomenon gave rise to a convergence of and a dialogue among the diverse sectors and ambits of cultural creation, including Carnival, music, poetry, and theater. This dialectic was reflected in the popular forms and motifs of folk songs and protest music, particularly the works of Alfredo Zitarrosa, Daniel Viglietti, José Carbajal, Los olimareños, and others. Authors, playwrights, and theater companies also created a network of relations and dialogues. Popular music began to utilize rural folkloric genres such as the milonga, chamarrita, vidalita, samba, the baguala, the rhythm of the candombe, and, above all, the expressive refrains of the murga. Since these artistic expressions tapped into forgotten or threatened forms of identity and popular culture, many of the great hits of the period were composites of original, folkloric genres.33 Many works by members of the generation of ’73 (Jaime Roos, Raúl Castro, Jorge Lazaroff, Jorge Bonaldi, Luis Trochón, Carlos da Silveira, etc.) and the generation of ’78 (Mauricio Ubal, Rubén Olivera, Fernando Cabrera, etc.) reflected these origins and motifs along with their own unique variations, preoccupations, and twists. Borrowing elements from theater, the avant-garde, popular music, the counter-culture of the 1960s, and the symbolic universe of the left, the murgas also began to reflect social and cultural changes in their representations. While the political and aesthetic convergence of cultural workers inspired cooperation and intertextuality among different practices, the murgas nourished the assimilation and reelaboration of symbolic material and popular narratives within Carnival itself. Amílcar Maidana’s La gran muñeca, Antonio Iglesias’s Los diablos verdes, Mario Lorenzo’s Araca la Cana, and José Alanís’s La soberana all illustrate the influence of the murgas in the late 1960s and early 1970s, which in turn shaped the murgas of the 1980s. The “revolution of Carnival” not only raised

68 / To Open Up the Night standards among performing troupes,34 standards inherited by today’s murgas; it also signified the radicalization and sociopolitical engagement of some murgas. Thus, new ways of performing and perceiving the murgas emerged and crystalized. In 1968, a socially, culturally, and politically turbulent year throughout the world, “the emergence of La soberana attracted other types of audiences to Carnival and viewing the tablados became a pastime for many.”35 More transparently than ever before, cultural activity was inseparable from politics. For example, during the municipal workers’ strike in 1967, strikebreakers working within DAECPU advised a boycott of the inaugural parade. In turn, Montevideo’s government boycotted the annual contest, and DAECPU itself assumed the charge of managing the contest.36 Around the same time, the murgas were contributing to the growth of political parties, social organizations, unions, and cultural promoters of social and aesthetic transformations. Furthermore they gave a poetic, expressive, and spectacular form to various modes of national mobilization and articulated the claims, denunciations, and hopes of the popular classes.37 After this juncture, Carnival and the murgas were no longer anachronistic, residual, and counter-utopian, as Juan Rial and others concluded. Carnival had become a heterogeneous and polysemic arena that included many ways to do Carnival and many groups with unique aesthetics and objectives. At the end of the 1960s and beyond, Carnival was best characterized by its irreverence toward conventions and order, its manner of contesting the messianic, utopian, and occasionally revolutionary national myths. With renewed popularity, Carnival was reappraised as a phenomenon bound up with popular conformity and the promotion of a unified popular conscience. As in the cultural forms of Renaissance history, Antonio Iglesias noted, Carnival began to be legitimated by the forces of change.38 Indeed, the winds of change validated and popularized a critical Carnival that questioned and proposed the inversion of the current social order. Such a spectacle would contribute to denunciations of society and politics, support the struggle for social transformations, and serve as a platform for the promotion of new values and a new way of seeing social and historical experiences, all through a new and entirely unique language. In the early 1970s, as a result of its success and popularity, Carnival became a true “industry of the spectacle.” However, the theaters of the tablados and the plazas began to compete with the spectacles offered in social, private, and sports clubs or on the private stages39 belonging to the businesses that sponsored Carnival. By offering extensive programming, a strategic location, and a large seating capacity, these private stages attracted the public.40 Nevertheless, the situation shifted once again with the coup of 1973 and the advent of the military dictatorship.

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Capitalist Restructuring and Its Relationship with the Cultural Practices of the Popular Classes Upon seeing Garrick, the English actor, the audience applauded and told him, “You are the funniest and the happiest in the land,” and the comic laughed A victim of the blues, the high lords in their darkest nights, went to see the king of actors and changed his melancholy to laughter One time, before a famous doctor, a somber man arrived and said: “I suffer an affliction as frightening as my own pale specter Nothing charms or attracts me any longer neither my name nor my fortune matter in this eternal sadness, the living death, and death is my only passion.” . . . “Your sickness is perplexing But I will not send you away, Take this advice as a prescription Only by seeing Garrick will you be cured.” “By seeing Garrick?” “Yes, Garrick. All who see him die laughing. . . . he has a surprisingly funny artistry.” “And will he make me laugh?” “I promise you. Only he will make you laugh. But what worries you?” “I will not be cured. I am Garrick.” — Song performed by Luna the “Canary,” a celebrated figure of popular music and the Uruguayan Carnival, based on a poem by Juan de Dios Peza

Around 1870, the consolidation of capitalism and the construction of the bourgeois state transformed nineteenth-century culture at all levels. One hundred years later, the military dictatorship implemented neoliberal capitalism and profoundly transformed and affected national culture and all ways of life, thought, and experience. Carnival reflected these changes. It is not surprising that today, even after a certain degree of democratization

70 / To Open Up the Night and the withdrawal of military power to a second plane, the national culture is still haunted by the ghosts, fears, and shadows of that cultural revision. Mabel Moraña described a relationship between the advance of military power in Uruguay and the production of determined messages and narrative forms onstage.41 “Neoliberalism’s capacity for hegemony included not only the imposition of a regime of continuous repression but also the generation of a new reality and its reception, systems of ethics, representations, and symbols.”42 It provided a new cultural agenda, sensibility, perception, and aesthetic and an ensemble of privileged institutions and attitudes. The murgas had to adjust to this new cultural model as their backdrop or transform themselves into spaces for questioning neoliberalism’s world visions and social sensibilities. Thus they became agencies for the production of an alternative cultural model. Carnival was also a terrain of social and ideological struggle, a place where the dictatorship found both proponents and dissidents for its efforts to control society and construct a symbolic and aesthetic order that corresponded with and facilitated its political and economic projects. Some at Carnival supported and diffused the governments’ cultural project, while many others sought to conserve the sociopolitical projection of Carnival and contribute to a democratic consciousness that fought both the dictatorship and neoliberalism. This confrontation had its vicissitudes and various outcomes. Even at the moments of greatest repression, Carnival included critical representations that were more or less veiled depending on the circumstances. Although the dictatorship ostensibly relented after the failed plebiscite of 1980 and the internal elections of 1982, the censorship and repression did not cease. Indeed, social and cultural activities were continuously and firmly controlled throughout the “transition.” The dictatorship was often vicious in its position and tactics during the negotiations. In spite of this, 1980 signaled a point of inflection within Uruguayan culture. The unexpected defeat of the military proposal forced the dictatorship to consider the possibility of certain concessions and “democratic openings,” as well as its own withdrawal to a second plane, to a position “behind the curtain.” In addition, the political and cultural work that was repressed during the first half of the dictatorship began to bear fruit, and Uruguayan culture, even in the context of persecution, incarceration, and censorship, achieved one of its greatest moments. At the time of the coup and the early years of the dictatorship, the possibilities for public expression were limited in terms of production, content, and dissemination. This applied to theater, popular music, the murgas, and all types of social and cultural activities. In the case of theater, Mauricio Rosencof and Híber Conteris were imprisoned while Milton Schinca, Mario Benedetti, Rubén Yáñez, Atahualpa del Cioppo,

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and the entire El Galpón Company were exiled. During the first five years of the dictatorship (1973 –78), there was a significant retraction in the number of annual spectacles, active theater groups, and original proposals.43 The panorama began to change only after 1979, when theater became a space of ideological resistance or, as Roger Mirza wrote, “a space where society exteriorized in a communal form its rejection of the authoritarian regime.”44 Around 1980, with the rebirth of cultural activity fueled by resistance to the dictatorship and fortified by weekly papers, the radio, cinema, popular music, Carnival, the book fair, the folk dances, candombailes, humorous magazines and television situation comedies, the theater began to grow.45 Theater salons proliferated (offering the social contact that television and film were lacking), and those that had closed reopened. In Montevideo’s cooperative homes, neighborhood clubs, church halls, and peripheral zones, actors and theater groups began to create experiences and encounters, like the Neighborhood Theater Encounters of 1981, which were “pregnant with reality and deep roots in the social aspects of life.”46 The regime also persecuted, incarcerated, censored, and exiled popular music artists and performers.47 Within a few years the regime began to restrict and prohibit public performances, the sale and diffusion of records, and the public emissions of songs or the names of national and international artists. While many artists continued to work and exhibit their products in semiprivate recitals, theater salons, café-theaters or caféconcerts, fame was restricted to a very few. Carlos Martins noted that after the 1973 coup d’état, and especially between 1974 and 1976, very few records were produced, popular music performances were scant, and little space was dedicated to popular music on radio and TV.48 However, Martins had noted a growth in the record industry around 1971, just two years prior to the coup.49 Soon after 1976, fortunately, certain theater halls began to announce performances of relatively unknown singers.50 A tacuarembó group appeared with Washington Benavides and Víctor Cunha, and another group emerged from the New Music Nucleus and the school of Coriún Aharonián and Graciela Paraskevaídis, among others.51 Between 1977 and 1980, under certain censures but with the support of theaters and radio programs (notably, Washington Benavides’s Trovadores de nuestro tiempo on CX30, directed by Germán Araújo), record companies, articles, and editorials, the phenomenon of popular music forms grew and coalesced.52 The great popular music recitals of the Peñarol Palace or the Platense Patín Club began to reemerge around 1978, albeit under strict vigilance, censorship and restrictions. Unlike other types of reunions and spectacles, Carnival with its annual reappearance, its characteristic parodies and criticisms, and its deep roots

72 / To Open Up the Night in popular urban customs protected the murgas to a certain degree. They were, at the very least, not completely silenced. While famous artists and musicians were the objects of the dictatorship’s personalized persecutions, the regime was unable to oppress and censor the thousands of people taking part in Carnival and the murgas. The murgas were not completely immune to the dictatorship and its institutions of control and cultural censorship, however. Over time the regime was sharpening its eyes, ears, and methods in order to isolate and attack those groups or people identified as antagonists and critics, especially directors and lyricists. Since it was unable to eliminate the institution of Carnival, the dictatorship controlled it with an iron fist. In 1974, the means of repression, continuous pressures, and persecutions of some troupes were increased.53 With its texts and performers censored and even prohibited, Carnival decayed significantly in its power to attract, particularly because its essences of criticism and satire were precisely what the regime attempted to erode.54 Leo Maslíah, in his essay about censorship in music, and Antonio Iglesias, in his report to Carnival’s Congress, wrote that in 1975, after the lyrics were critically studied by the Censorship Commission and returned to the performance groups, a military organization submitted the originals to Montevideo’s city administration for a new round of revisions just two days before Carnival began. As a result of this second revision, two murgas, La soberana and La cumbre, and a comedic troupe, Las ranas, were denied the opportunity to perform.55 Araca la Cana was definitively prohibited.56 Although some performers were prevented from returning to perform publicly, others formed new groups.57 Directors of ensembles affiliated with DAECPU reacted to the prohibitions and organized a protest. They outlined solidarity measures that permitted censored performers to receive wages and directors to receive a prize equal to that of the prior year. Some Carnival participants informed the authorities of these plans and events, which in turn led to two different detentions of DAECPU leaders. Repressive organizations threatened those who worked, organized, or affiliated with the persecuted individuals and attempted to control the finances and texts of theater groups. In spite of this, and with the request of a loan that was to be repaid through a 1976 performance at the Peñarol Palace, the participants received their wages and La soberana, by José Alanís, garnered a sum parallel to the previous year’s prize.58 The authorities increased their repressive efforts in 1977 and more than one hundred directors and participants were forcibly removed from Carnival.59 By this time, the regime’s supporters controlled Carnival.60 Protected by the militarized state, they applied arbitrary sanctions, excluded many individuals, adopted unfair resolutions, and congealed tariffs, which the administration often increased without warning. The owners of the stages, themselves, were sometimes those who fixed the prices.61

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The government applied political and ideological control over all spectacles at many levels, using the atmosphere of a “state of war” to justify measures that prohibited gatherings of more than four people without the due police authorization. Thus the regime threatened the very extinction of spectacles. Meetings and public performances in social clubs, theaters, and other neighborhood meeting places, or in the common rooms of housing cooperatives were controlled with particular severity.62 In these places, repressive forces attempted to watch over all that occurred and pressure artists to behave properly, creating ridiculous and time-consuming obstacles to the productions.63 The systematized prerequisites of censorship had been applied in previous years, but in 1979 compliance became necessary for any performance. At first, the only exceptions were downtown theaters, which attracted only small audiences. Two years later, however, in 1981, the regulation was extended to theaters and salons as well.64 To meet compliances, Maslíah wrote, one had to write a letter to the chief of police providing the name, date, and hour of the performance, the price of tickets, the address, phone number, name, document number, age, and civil status of each participant. An additional form required this same information and more, including the name of the person responsible for the spectacle, the type of presentation, the forms of publicity, cost, the name of the printer responsible for posters and signs, the methods and costs of making them, the business that rented the enlarging equipment, prices, details about who paid expenses, economic conditions of the hall, number of entrances authorized by the city government, the person in charge of the kitchen, etc. Applicants needed to submit three copies of both the letter and the form along with three copies of the songbooks. For murgas, six copies were required. Also required was a letter signed by the theater administrator, demonstrating his acceptance of the project.65 The “state censorship” of texts was inaugurated in response to Carnival decades earlier, although article 29 of the Constitution prohibited such censorship.66 In 1968, the state television channel censored its transmissions,67 but from 1979 on, the tradition of repression begun with Carnival was extended to all creative activities. The mechanism of censorship operated like a hunt for witches among words, many times at the margins of the words’ actual meanings or functions. For example, a group performing a humorous scene of the Prohibition years in the United States was required to change the words “clandestine,” “past,” “people,” and “captain” although none of the terms carried anything close to the meanings imagined by the dictatorship.68 Carnival lyricists were converted into literary students in a workshop run by the police, who proposed year after year the difficult exercise of modifying four or five words in each stanza without modifying the meter (or the actual

74 / To Open Up the Night meaning) since the music had already been rehearsed when the police surveyed the texts.69 These police agents followed the librettos carefully and watched that each correction and improvement introduced was carried out in the performances. The ensembles that made errors were reprimanded or suspended.70 On one occasion when, ironically, censorship mixed with avant-garde aesthetics, Hugo Brocos, a participant in Falta y resto, recounted a police agent’s suggestion that the retirada be switched with the introduction!71 In censoring popular music concerts, agents did not reject isolated words but entire texts,72 the participation of particular artists (some of whom were imprisoned or tortured73), or simply the entire recital. Innumerable anecdotes describe the devout, arbitrary, ignorant, and paranoid work and acts of the censors; today these stories may invoke laughter, but at the time they were testimonials of the degrees and varieties of repression. Not all Carnival participants and murgas showed the same degree of resistance or opposition to the economic, social, political, or symbolicideological models of the dictatorship. Maslíah wrote that while some Carnival lyricists and actors, the exceptions to the rule, walked a tightrope between speaking and remaining silent, between expressing and hiding their repudiation of the regime, the majority incorporated the filters proposed by the censors and presented the most innocuous and trivial events of the year. Just as it had lawyers, publicists, executives, engineers, and doctors, the dictatorship also had its fools.74 As compensation for the restrictions and censures imposed upon Carnival, those who complied received certain economic and administrative benefits, like increases in prize amounts and the concession of allowing DAECPU to administer the contest.75 From an official point of view, this was an effort to reward the compliance and the adaptation to the authoritarian culture, in other words, to place Carnival at the service of the regime’s economic, social, and symbolic order. At this point, the relationship between the state and Carnival had reached dimensions and degrees so complex that Carnival was no longer perceived as an arena of freedom, spontaneity, and limitless possibilities. The tie was so strong that now, several years after the partial withdrawal of the dictatorship, Carnival remains subject to a vast number of requirements, pressures, controls, and prohibitions. Today’s Carnival also includes “self-censorship,” the internalization of repression, justified by rationalizations based at times on “considerations of the market” or at other times on political issues. The minister of defense continues to oversee communications and those laws that regulate the modes of communication, limit public expression, and severely penalize “symbolic attacks of state institutions” and “invitations to subversion” remain on the books.

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The relationships and tensions between Carnival and the state emerged at various levels. Economically, the state supports certain infrastructure and finances certain events. Administratively, the state previews, regulates, organizes, and oversees the spectacles of Carnival. On a politicalideological level, the dominant political project, represented in and by the state, shapes affinities or oppositions in terms of distinct aesthetic and ideological proposals. A multitude of state dependencies took part in the task of controlling, organizing, and administering Carnival. Foremost are the Service Section of Acts, Festivities, and Public Spectacles of the Tourism Division of the Department of Hotels, Casinos, and Tourism of the Municipal Government of Montevideo, the official organization responsible for Carnival; the Cultural Division of the Municipal Government; the Montevideo Police; the dependency of the Ministry of the Interior, which publicizes and is responsible for the Carnival’s Edict; the Office of Public Spectacles and the National Institute for the Young (dependencies of the Ministry of Education and Culture), which regulate the activities that children attend or participate in; and even the Commission of Control, or Censorship, which came to depend on the participation of officials from the armed forces under the jurisdiction of the Ministry of Defense. The Police and, by extension, the informants and agents that worked for the Intelligence Service were also overseen by the Defense Department. The Ministry of Public Health also participated in overseeing the inspection of Carnival sites and the sale of food. Far from being a “marginal,” “interstitial,” “spontaneous,” or “uncontrolled” event, Carnival came to be one of the artistic practices most regulated, scrutinized, censored, and penalized by state forces. Although its role, jurisdiction, and behavior respond to current political situations and the ruling party, Montevideo’s Municipal Government has been, for most of its history, an extension of the Colorado Party. I am not familiar with any works that have investigated the role of the Broad Front Government with respect to Carnival, from 1989 on. In the past, the city administration included among its functions the organization of the parades, the payment of prizes, the administration and regulation of the season and public spaces where spectacles occurred as well as public spectacles that occurred in private spaces, the examination and control of lyrics, and the naming of judges. Mauricio Ubal wrote that, in 1988, during the government of the Colorado Party, Montevideo’s administration had a clear political presence, and the declarations about possible censures, although not executed as concretely, were intended to place political pressure on the murgas and above all, their judges.76 Control and regulation were not confined to the domain of the state. At times, they also emerged from the ranks of the “owners of the murgas” themselves, affiliated to DAECPU. With the development of Carnival as a

76 / To Open Up the Night business, the murgas, like other forms of spectacles, became commodities and, like other property, became owned. Most ensembles pertain to an “owner,” “organizer,” or simply a proprietor under the group’s “name” itself (a very important component in Carnival), which functions as a patron and whose business is to assemble the group each year. For this the owner contracts personnel for the Carnival season. One of DAECPU’s objectives is to increase the owners’, and occasionally other participants’, power in negotiations with the state, with commercial agents in the industry, and with regard to the business of Carnival generally. The owners and DAECPU need to negotiate a number of aspects relative to the practices that constitute the annual contest, the amount of the prizes, the infrastructure and the inspection of sites, police issues, issues of morality and public decency, the duration, tariffs, taxes, definition, character, what a murga can, should, and should not do, the composition of the tribunal and the contest, and even the criteria for evaluation used in the contest to determine symbolic and economic prizes. One of the historic conquests of DAECPU, a result of a 1973 conflict with Mayor Jorge Rachetti of the Colorado Party, was to garner the administration of the Summer Theater, which currently funds the prizes for the Official Contest. The Theater and the Contest were administrated by the city administration until Rachetti decided to freeze the prizes, an action that met with broad opposition. Aside from the functions mentioned, DAECPU also assigns ensembles to the various tablados in the first weeks, administers the groups’ contracts, collections, and payments, controls the entrances of new artists each season, and collaborates, together with the IMM, in elaborating the Regulations of Carnival. Along with the chief of police, the National Institute for the Young, the Office of Public Spectacles, the municipal government of Montevideo, and DAECPU, business people, sponsors, contractors, and set owners also exercise their influence over Carnival and its discourses through economic prizes or punishments. These commercial agents enforce their aesthetic and ideological criteria over those murgas that do not conform to what should be “good,” “truly carnivalesque,” “genuine,” “entertaining,” “wholesome,” “marketable,” “constructively rather than negatively critical,” etc. The Uruguayan murga is a result of diverse interests, actors, and social agents, public and private, involved with the practices of Carnival. The tensions of such diversity have been diffused through a series of accords and rules, many of which are unwritten but operative, and others that appear in the successive police and regulatory edicts concerning Carnival. Carvalho Neto wrote in the 1960s that those who sang censored lyrics would have been able to endure prison. Article 4 of the 1988 Regulations of Carnival, written with the participation of the municipal government and DAECPU, states:

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The authorizations for such festivities will be granted on the basis that these festivities should exclusively favor wholesome entertainment, an attraction for tourists, recreation, and the diffusion of popular culture. The freedom of expression and artistic creation as inherent rights of the individual will be intrinsically protected having as a natural limit that which applicable juridical norms establish for those rights. They should reflect the greatest expression of our culture’s identity, on the basis of a healthy and constructive critique of facts and situations that constitute daily realities. Any aspect of the festivities that affects these objectives or signifies a departure from those general principles or constitutes an attack of values recognized by legal order attacks order itself, morality, and decency and will be considered sufficient motive for canceling or not granting the respective authorization, without danger to the sanctions that correspond by right. [Remedi’s italics]77 The same Regulation announces sanctions against ridiculing persons with physical defects or pregnant women,78 the interruption of the normal development of the parade,79 any substantial deviation from the “approved libretto,” the presence of persons who by means of “wrong attitudes” or emphasis demonstrate “amorality,” the exhibition of commercial, politically partisan, or other types of signs and propaganda in the spectacles of the Official Contest, the use of live animals, fires, the launching of balloons, posthumous homages,80 the use of patriotic, military, or police emblems or the symbols of political, religious, or philosophical sectors.81 Beyond a prescribed aesthetic, this required precisely the opposite of the carnivalesque, that is, a conduct subordinated to official dictates, reduced to the limits of the possible, civilized, moralizing, sermonizing, reaffirming of order, morality, and decency all within a context of urbanity and education; in other words, “the hegemonic culture.” The Regulations required a wholesome and constructive practice, an order that directly contradicted the wild, Dionysian, contesting, destabilizing, critical, questioning acts typical of a carnivalesque representation. The world of Carnival is no more and no less than a world contained between parentheses, between commas. It is the representation of the world turned upside down, where everything matters and all is permitted. It is the world of mystical celebration and reunion of life, liberty, pleasure, and love. It is the world of transgression, burlesque, satire, parodies, inversion, the subversion of the hegemonic discourse, the proposal of an alternative order and another world. Contrary to all of this, the Qualifying Committee, which accepts or rejects certain groups, and the Contest Tribunal, which judges and awards the prizes, were instructed to adjudicate in the following manner:

78 / To Open Up the Night In all categories, they will prioritize ingenuity, creativity, artistic quality, originality, and cultural content over and above magnificence, outlandishness, special effects, bad taste, or insolence, therefore defending the very essence of Carnival.82 The murga, as a genre of carnivalesque representation, also participates in the contest and is therefore subjected to a series of recommendations, categorizations, and specifications, listed in the Regulation (1988) and understood as expectations that the judges will use to base their scores. The Regulation states: The Category Murgas is conceptually a natural means of communication that transmits the barrio songs, recovers the poetry of the street, and sings the thoughts of the asphalt. It is an expressive form that merges popular language with a vein of rebellion and romanticism. The Murga, the essence of the people, is an authentic selfcharacterization of society through which the identified, recognized, and salient events of the year parade for people to see, hear, and speak. These events are appreciated for their insolent, jocular aspects, taken in jest and without conceptions, and if the situation requires it, the murga will show the conceptual strength of its critique, its true essence. The context of the libretto as well as the social critique will have a sharp feeling of ingenuity, naughtiness, and authenticity. The vein of caustic, ironic, bitter, intelligent, and communicative protest is the structure and the essence of the murga. The pamphlet or demagogy as integral elements grudgingly represents creativity and strips it of the natural and spontaneous popular authenticity. The mystique of the murga is sustained through the means of a natural authenticity of the libretto, which transmits and creates a fluid current of communication with its audience, integrates and makes the viewers participate spiritually in its songs and scenes. The murga is distinguished, unlike the artistic refinement that characterizes other categories (societies of negro lubolos, reviews, parodies, and comedians), by its mimicry, pantomime, vivacity, movement, contrast, informality of staging and the grotesque; similarly the synchronization of movements will be conceived as valid if it gives brilliance to the pursued spectacle and does not distract from the murga’s idiosyncrasy. Satire in the form of constructed situations crosses all categories, since the murga in its enduring creativity parodies situations or personalities and builds humor through its free invention. The murga’s

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texts will be accompanied by well-known or unpublished music, allowing for the possibility to use its own music if desired. Inertia, inaction, and particularly quietness will be factors of general impoverishment for the spectacle. The face painting or make-up is fundamental to complement the costuming, which should show originality as well as authenticity. The murga should present originality and color, highlighted by the representation of flamboyant personalities, their sayings, customs, and situations. In sum, it should have a popular, authentic spark through vivid imagery. The basic and essential instruments are the base, cymbals, and snare drum. The ensembles may also use other types of musical instruments, although only to complement the percussion; these should not exceed five minutes of use throughout the performance. The murga will be able to enter fully in scene through the important role of the scene director who will lead the movement that should spread contagiously to his fellow performers. The song of farewell or retreat (the retirada) will transmit the traditional evocative, romantic, communicative, and/or exemplary message or will pay homage to popular figures and events whose relevance may be situated in different historical epochs but has endured through this timeless carnivalesque expression. The scenery will be optional and will not be part of the Official Contest’s scoring. These ensembles will be composed of a minimum of 14 and a maximum of 17 members, and their actions in the Contest spectacles will last a minimum of 35 and maximum of 50 minutes.83 In spite of the many correct characterizations recently included in its list, the Regulation is intended to prescribe the essence of a supposedly “authentic murga” and to limit and delay the genre’s transformation. The passages are at times too poetic, ambiguous, and suggestive to be a list of norms and, at other times, simply demagogic and contradictory in their meanings. Thus the Regulation unintentionally contributes to the reproduction of innumerable misunderstandings of some artistic and formal concepts relative to the history of Carnival and the carnivalesque spirit. While many murgas, doing justice to the genre and its experimental, irreverent, and transformative character, do not know or respect many of the rules, the Regulation continues to be a reflection of the attempt to control Carnival on the part of the state, the business sector, and even some patrons and participants who, whatever their reasons, seem to prefer restricting themselves to the Regulation. The latter take the risk of making the work of Carnival into a museum piece, a denaturalized, dead,

80 / To Open Up the Night residual, and obsolete tradition. This does not signify that the creative process, the process of transformation, is limitless. A murga, as transformed as it may be, should be recognized and accepted as such by the public and by its peers, and its transformation should be understood as the aggregate, rather than simply a loss, of value. The acceptance of any art form, however, is not always automatic and immediate, and temporary disagreements and discussions should be considered normal; for example, the disputes among murgas-murgas, the murgas-pueblo, and the anti-murga (which is discussed further in part 3). To define out of hand “what the murga should be and do” conflicts with the creative process; this is even more true when one proposes that “what the murga should do” is what it has always done. The creative process, even when it consists in the manipulation of past traditions, forms, functions, and symbols, is also obligated to add contemporary value to the actualization and transculturative synthesis. Such aggregate values lead the genre to break with the past, “leap into a vacuum,” search for new paths, meanings, and forms, experiment, transform, alter, incorporate new, popular materials, invent, etc. Aside from the formal or poetic requirements, the 1988 Regulation also contains policing orders that subject some ensembles to an “admissions test.” The directors of these murgas must present six typewritten copies of the text with the authors’ names, six copies of dossiers for all performers and substitutes providing all personal data and their functions in the group and photos of any new, “unregistered” players.84 In spite of these requirements and the difficult conditions surrounding Carnival during the dictatorship and the “transition,” some murgas found a social and historical role as constituents and symbols of the popular struggle against the authoritarian neoliberal order and in favor of a participatory, democratic, popular system of fairness and solidarity. This role and symbolism, previously seen in only a few murgas such as La soberana or Araca la Cana, extended to so many ensembles and representations that Carnival and the murgas were perceived as spaces of resistance in a new era.

The New Era of Carnival I can’t believe the things I see on Montevideo’s streets. — “Adiós Juventud,” song by Jaime Roos

For Raúl Castro, lyricist and director of Falta y resto, the year 1980 marked the beginning of a new era in Carnival. In that year, the constitutional reform plebiscite reopened political debate on a public level, polarizing Uruguayans into proponents and opponents of the military dictatorship and unleashing the rejection of the project to legalize militarized neoliberalism.

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Carnival’s new form was signaled, for example, by the performances of La reina de la Teja and the popularity of many popular songs, including: new songs by Jaime Roos such as “Retirada,” “Aquello,” and “Los Olímpicos”; the record Carnaval by Omar Romano and Los del Altillo; “Baile de máscaras” by Jorge Lazaroff and Raúl Castro, sung by the group Los que iban cantando; “Para abrir la noche,” “Viejo tablado,” “Papel picado” by Mauricio Ubal; “A Redoblar” by Rubén Olivera and Mauricio Ubal, performed by Rumbo; or “La Murguita” by José Carbajal. All of these songs make use of carnivalesque figures and symbols to thematicize the political situation and the spiritual state of the time. Falta y resto emerged in 1980 and the Anti-murga BCG followed in 1982. Along with La reina de la Teja, Araca la Cana, Los diablos verdes and others, these murgas innovated the performances and diffused the paradigmatic styles of this new era. Given their impact on sentiment, memory, and popular imagination, these social and cultural phenomena held a rare significance. Nevertheless, these events alone do not explain the emergence of Carnival’s new era. Other contributors were the latent social sensibility and theatricality of the moment, which reflected people’s behaviors and actions in the context of repression. They reflected fears, paranoia, confusion, challenges, and transgressions against the culture of the regime, daily disguises, an eagerness to know what was happening and to find signs of what was hidden, what one could not say, an intermittent apparition of a subjective “we,” the intimate rebirth of some faith, the perception of the possible fracture and erosion of the dictatorial order, and the possibility of an alternative, inverted, more gratifying, and more democratic order. Various events and processes fed this perception: the social and political effects of the plebiscite; the growing presence of diverse forms and institutions of meeting, organizing, and mobilizing in social, political, and cultural contexts, many of which existed prior to the coup; the effects that these emerging practices carried in the collective conscience, motivations, attitudes, and expectations of the people. These phenomena also contributed to a receptive and propitious environment for the isolated proposals of a few cultural agencies. Such proposals acquired, somewhat surprisingly, an uncommon significance and magnitude. The murga, milonga, candombe, regional rock, and other local music forms became symbolically identified with democratic, national, and popular norms, the signifiers of Uruguayans’ idiosyncrasy and lifestyle. This association was understood as an act and a symbol of cultural resistance and reaffirmation. It resulted from the work of intellectuals and artists as well as from the responses of the people, and led to the emergence of concerts that relied on the expressive forms of candombe, milonga, murga,

82 / To Open Up the Night samba, chamamé, rock, carnavalito, chamarrita, and salsa. People began to enjoy and celebrate these forms, attending concerts and dances and buying records and cassettes. Henceforth a new comprehension of social and historical experiences, new identities and sensibilities, and a new symbolic universe emerged and reinforced the hope of transcending “the dark night.” “People wanted to see, hear, and laugh at themselves in the murgas.”85 In social and family gatherings throughout the years of the dictatorship, people listened to the songs of the murgas and candombe or semi-clandestine songs that made references to Carnival. For example, people celebrated the songs of José Carbajal, Alfredo Zitarrosa, the record Todos detrás de Momo, with songs by Carbajal and Rubén Lena, Los olimareños, and many other popular artists. This music maintained and reproduced a national collective identity defined around the acceptance of the prohibited, and the censures against songs or their performers reinforced their symbolic, popular value. In this ambience, Carnival, candombe, and the murgas became central and inspired tremors and high emotions on intimate and collective levels. The complicity and identification with Carnival, however mediated or imaginary, operated as signals of a growing solidarity, a massive “conspiracy” against the dictatorial order. Cooperatives, neighborhood clinics, unions, schools, and social movements formed amateur murgas and created a means and an occasion to act and speak publicly about their corporations and interests. Conscious of the aesthetic and symbolic value as well as the expressive and semiotic possibilities available in Carnivalesque culture and the murga, activists and artists included these forms in their repertoire of expressive resources and raw materials. They journeyed to the traditional spaces of Carnival or brought Carnival to traditionally foreign arenas such as popular music circuits, downtown theaters, dances, religious fairs, and festivals. Tied to cultural production and the possibility of profit, the radio and record industries also expanded their activities and in turn increased the attention and spaces dedicated to this recently discovered and almost unexploited cultural terrain. Mercantilist distribution and publicity contributed to the remarkable rise of popular music and carnivalesque culture. Falta y resto, La reina de la Teja, and Araca la Cana multiplied their “performances” through records and cassettes, giving the impression that they were ubiquitous. The record and radio industries brought contradictory results: on one hand, they amplified and multiplied the spaces and times of Carnival to unimagined limits; on the other hand, the congregation and rituals of carnival, now submerged in different media and filters, suffered a fragmentation, a loss of grounding and praxis compensated only on imaginary or symbolic levels. If the murga was once only a traditional

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custom, like soccer or semana criolla, an informal business, a shoddy and moribund echo of the hegemonic culture and the myths of “eternal Montevideo” and “happy Uruguay,” it became in the 1980s an excellent form for questioning social experiences and breaking with the ruling social and symbolic order, a popular medium for people to meet, articulate, and channel the ideas, values, tasks, and objectives corresponding to a new project. Now the murga was “the fraternal magnet” that helped citizens “undo the spell,” “break the painful silence,” “open up the night,” “crack the surface,” and “banish the false illusions” offered by the dictatorial order. The murga made present “the Uruguay that had been buried alive by the dictatorship,” “the authentic little country,” “the Uruguay that is coming back to life.” Most performances and public displays now mattered in different ways. These included the events of street stages, frequented by members of the popular classes and barrio residents; popular music concerts, works of the downtown theaters and the film societies attended by students, professionals, and others from the middle classes; the massive July 18 celebrations; and even the most political acts, like that of May 1, 1983, or the protest that included journalist Germán Araújo’s hunger strike to demand that CX30 be reopened. All of these celebrations and displays were significant not only for their themes and their ethical and aesthetic meanings, but also for their representations of a (re)encounter, where people reclaimed public space and a sense of the popular collective. In this sense, the carnivalesque spectacle, particularly the collective presentation of the murga, became a metaphor, a model, and a discursive instrument of civil society and especially of the democratic, national, and popular front.86 Antonio Iglesias proclaimed conclusively that various ensembles, many of which appeared in Carnivals for several years and others that performed during the most repressive years of the regime, played the most important role in supporting the people’s struggle for the return of democracy. By bringing thousands of people together and inviting their participation, these groups revitalized Carnival, gave it a distinct purpose, and confirmed its character of maximum popular expression.87 While other cultural practices lost their appeal with the return of democracy, the theater groups continued to attract audiences with their capacity for renovation and convocation.88 While the murgas of the 1980s were a direct result and a primary protagonist of historical circumstances, the national culture and social imagination of the period were, in turn, products of the cultural labor of the murgas. Comprised of disparate elements that worked together to form a dissonant harmony and a tense union, the murga mirrored the articulations of the many diverse sectors and subcultures at work to reconstruct the country. Thus it became a symbol and a metaphor of

84 / To Open Up the Night the national culture, idiosyncrasy, and popular sentiment of the period. Carnival continued to nurture itself through the social, political, and cultural processes that surrounded the 1985 elections (which restored many basic civil and political rights), the long campaign (August 1986 – April 1989) against the Law of Impunity, and the 1989 elections (the first truly free elections since 1971, which established the left in Montevideo’s government).

The Carnival in Statistics Between 1983 and 1989 Carnival’s enormous popularity was reflected in the murgas’ privileged place in popular sentiment, the national-popular symbolic universe, and as a means of convocation, communication, and mobilization. Statistics also clearly reflect Carnival’s popular significance. The sheer numbers of murgas, stages, contracts, and days of Carnival and the amount of money given by the state as well as the increasing diversity of times and places of the murgas, the diffusion of radio and discography, and the newspaper coverage all indicated this soaring popularity. Although there were fewer stages than in the 1950s (the “Golden Age” of the tablados), the number in operation by the mid-1980s is illustrative of the vitality and magnitude of Carnival as a sociocultural practice. According to the rosters of stages archived in the capital’s Division of Tourism, almost seventy tablados were raised in 1985,89 covering an extensive area of greater Montevideo, and located particularly in the “invisible” Montevideo that includes the most humble and removed neighborhoods, the bedroom communities, the workers’ sections. These numbers approached those of Carnival at mid-century. Even in years when the numbers were small, the quantity of stages was still significant when compared with the number of theater halls, musicals, or movie theaters, which were located primarily in a small portion of the city consisting of just two or three neighborhoods: Centro, Cordón, and Pocitos. At the end of the 1980s and due to the displacement of street stages with large, private sets (“the big stages”), the number of tablados decreased. Sixty stages operated in 1986, but the number fell to forty in 1988 and to thirty in 1990.90 If the number of stages was considerable, the number of murgas was double or triple what it had been in its most glorious era, when there were barely a dozen murgas. In 1987, for example, sixty-five professional ensembles participated officially in Montevideo’s Carnival. Of this number, thirty-seven were murgas, nine were companies of comedians, eight were parodists, seven were groups of negros lubolos, and four were review troupes.91 In addition, several thousand people participated

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in constructing the murgas, as performers, artisans, artists, and laborers. Two thousand people attended each murga performance, and four thousand attended the Summer Theater each day.92 The murgas were performed almost every day of February, the official period of Carnival, as well as the first ten days of March. In 1987, for example, Carnival lasted thirty-five days and included twenty-nine days of spectacles, that is, twenty-nine nights when the dozens of murgas moved throughout the city to perform on dozens of stages. The number of contracts that year was 5,163.93 In addition, a large number of “extra-Carnival” performances were held in clubs, residential cooperatives, soup kitchens, shelters, neighborhood clinics, and dance halls, as well as in social, student, union, or partisan assemblies. Vast numbers of people purchased tickets to see Carnival. In fact, Carnival was more widely attended than any other type of event. In 1987, for example, 2.8 million Carnival entrance tickets were sold,94 while people bought only 400,000 theater tickets, 1.5 million movie tickets, and 1 million tickets to see soccer games.95 Considering that all Uruguayan homes contained radios and televisions,96 only these means of private mass communication or possibly the daily newspapers sold in kiosks surpassed the cultural popularity of Carnival. The context of decline in the national economy, standard of living, and capacity to access other cultural goods is important in assessing the growth of Carnival’s popular significance. During this period of decay, the number of people attending movies fell from 7.8 million in 1972 to 1.5 million in 1987.97 In general, peoples’ habits and social or cultural practices suffered severe cuts and transformations over this period. Around 1987, Montevideans’ recreational activities consisted primarily of watching TV (65 percent of those interviewed), meeting up with friends (55 percent), listening to music (43 percent), reading (37 percent), going to the movies or the theater (19 percent), and attending sports events (17 percent).98 People’s choices were based more on economics than on preference. “If they had the time and the money,” Uruguayans would prefer to travel to a spa or to the interior (35 percent), go to the movies or dine out with friends (14 percent), watch a good TV program at home (12 percent), go to the theater (11 percent), a musical (6 percent), or a sports event (5 percent), or read (1 percent).99 A recent study shows that in some regions of the country, 30 percent of homes have no books or other reading materials. Today books are bought on installment and with credit cards. Leo Maslíah sang with ironic humor of a character who promises his mate that, if things go well, he will buy her a book in the next year. The cost of buying a newspaper every day or a weekly publication is a luxury restricted to a privileged few.100 People generally buy a newspaper once or twice a week, depending on the preferred daily

86 / To Open Up the Night supplements. The crisis of books and newspapers and the gradual disappearance of movie theaters are partly due to changing cultural customs (instead of going to the theater people rent a video or watch television), but are also caused by the loss of acquisitive power among the popular classes.

Carnival as an Industry An economic interest in Carnival and a consequent boom in its industry paralleled the increase in the significance and magnitude of carnivalesque practices. In effect, the Carnival of recent years has not only become professionalized in all aspects, it has also become a genuine industry, the “business of Carnival” involving great quantities of money, workers, and promoters. Some make their livings by Carnival, a few make their fortunes, but most merely complement their meager salaries. While the economic aspect was only one factor of Carnival’s increasing social and artistic value, commercialization was significant in its apogee, as well as its crisis. Carnival’s economic boom is a result of state and private investments (reflected primarily in the sets, concessions, patrons, record companies, and television) and the commercialization of all its aspects. State inversions were not intended to support the “Carnival of rebellion and protest”; instead, they were earmarked for Carnival’s “circus,” its celebration of the status quo, and often produced the parades and the staged spectacles. Paradoxically, Carnival’s economic success also resulted from the fact that, within a context of poverty and misery, it offered ways to make some money informally. The increase in unemployment and underemployment and the declines in salaries and buying power gave rise to an informal economy that made many people adopt these artistic practices, as well as the industry, commerce, and services of Carnival, as a possible source of employment. In addition, Carnival continues to be a spectacle and a social event that is economically accessible for those social classes most affected by the crisis, thus producing a large, loyal, and recurrent public. The state, primarily through Montevideo’s government, contributes to the financing of some prizes, the parades, the provision of infrastructure, and the concession to DAECPU from the Summer Theater. In 1988, for example, the state invested 19 million pesos. Through this economic relationship, the state is able to increase its influence and control over Carnival and capitalize on it economically under the rubric of “public spectacles” and “tourism.” As Ubal attested, the level of the stages or sets and the economic operations remained more or less under the control of private business. The accelerated liberalization and commercialization of

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the staged performances, in the hands of large and small industrialists and contractors, and the capitalist logic behind these projects tended to supersede other considerations. The stage proprietors, through their union (FECU), reacted to the tariffs imposed by DAECPU and AGADU (the association of authors) and municipal orders that endangered their interests. Aside from the municipal orders, DAECPU and the class and group interests it represents (including the owners of murgas and the performers themselves) create other obstacles for Carnival’s industrialists. The situation of the artists, however, was quite different. Ubal explained: the stage owner pays a set price for the performances and pays for transportation during the rehearsal period. Each actor is paid differently, according to his experience and conditions. Some collect advances, which may be paid in kind, or charge a fixed rate for the season, which is the case of vedettes, first voices, celebrated actors, or cupleteros. Wandering from one ensemble to another, year after year, and sometimes within the same season, is the traditional characteristic of the carnavalero who, in spite of his origin, never could find a union that represents and defends all of his interests.101 In a country in economic and social crisis, the economic dimension of Carnival, as a source of labor, was of vital importance for many people, groups and social sectors. Ubal wrote: . . . to understand that Carnival is perhaps the only artistic manifestation in which the working classes, the people, actually participate as protagonists without feeling out of place is to understand its profound social and cultural meaning. But there is another, no less fascinating, reason. Momo constitutes, along with his cultural dimension, a source of employment. It was always thus, but today, with an economy in ruins and without any sign of hope, many Uruguayans anxiously await the harvest, hoping that it will be bountiful and extensive and that it will not rain. I refer not only to the natural expectations of the fifteen hundred or so artists who emerge every February for Carnival, but also to the concerns of all those involved in transportation, journalism, commerce, stagebuilding, and tourism, we all depend on Momo. If the phrase ‘no one lives off of this’ is typically heard about Carnival, it is only partially true but reveals the certainty that all artists are ‘harvesters,’ wandering vendors that do not know if they will be able to pay for their next meal. Aggravated by the crisis and unemployment, Carnival in this capitalist society has always reproduced internally the social, political, and economic contradictions of the system.102

88 / To Open Up the Night In other words, in spite of the relationship between the country’s socioeconomic crisis and the boom of the “informal economy,” the effects of the crisis on Carnival’s “harvest” were felt keenly. These effects were particularly evident by the late 1980s. Reflecting larger social processes, those who most felt this crisis were the least privileged sectors, ensembles and businesses, the poorest sets, the most expendable workers with the least power to negotiate or fight for their interests. In Carnival, as in other arenas, economic and political aspects are inextricably bound. Bureaucratic and economic tourniquets often disguise political pressures. For example, when, in 1988, bad weather reduced Carnival’s performance days and caused an economic crisis, DAECPU tried to prolong the event with a petition that was denied by the Colorado City mayor Julio Iglesias. This insensibility, possibly motivated by Carnival’s attacks against his party and defended with a weak argument about the proximity to other municipal events, brought serious economic repercussions. Economic interest is not a monopoly of business people, the stage owners, or the state, but also includes the owners of the murgas, the artists, and other Carnival workers. Julio Martínez complained of this when he wrote: Little by little, Carnival has lost that “betting one’s shirt” aspect that characterized the noisy evenings of past years. Mercantilism has seeped into the pure love that once characterized the murgas and the comparsas, and a business mentality that measures dollars guides each ensemble. It devours sensibility and enthusiasm. Arrangements, deals, cover-ups, avarice, games, and tricks have emerged, as they do when economic interests enter. There are those who say that a true mafia surrounds some of the caudillos [chiefs] of Carnival, who put money before all else and between their hands and their pockets begin to assassinate names, truth, rectitude, and shame.103 With a soccer metaphor, Gustavo Diverso also criticized the “professionalization” of the ensembles when he wrote of the 1988 Carnival: 1988, in its own brand new headquarters, Don Timoteo repeated the couplet before a crowd that had congregated to see the rehearsals. Sports teams dressed with the logo of the murga and a brand of cigarettes, in the style of our major soccer teams, stamped on their chests. Several are well-known performers from past Carnivals who have arrived at the murga after an agitated period of passes where the proprietors of some ensembles had distributed the

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consecrated figures. A good placing in the contest would make up for the losses.104 One of the most notorious and lamentable consequences of the increase in Carnival’s commercial and industrial character and the state’s neglect of the public stages and their organization is the disappearance of the humbler street and neighborhood stages that were unable to compete with the larger, better financed sets. Another consequence has been the growing erosion of free and popular expression at Carnival, due primarily to the discouragement and failure of less endowed ensembles. These groups cannot afford to perform at Carnival, cannot expect to be contracted by private stages, have no stages available to them, have very few possibilities for attracting patrons, and also cannot rely on the possibility of economic rewards, as the powerful murgas can. While Carnival represents an additional source of wages for many or simply an activity of sensual or spiritual pleasure and a display of artistic, human, social, or political meaning for others, it represents a profession for some and, like any other profession, depends upon “specialists.” Bananita González explained: last year some people from Los Walkers came to talk to me and they made me a very good offer and I accepted it because for me Carnival is a very important source of income, I am a specialized worker. I am paid a lot, but I offer a lot, not only on the stage but off-stage as well. I always say that on the day that we have a society in which the state fixes my salary I will have no problem collecting that salary. But now, in the way that I perform, just as others sell sausages, tickets, or win at bingo, I will continue to charge the going rate, as any professional should do with their work. This year Los Jokers will appear, and they made me the best economic and artistic offer. I liked the idea and here I am, committed to doing my work.105 In many cases, these professional and economic considerations did not imply a disavowal of the ethical and political issues of the moment, such as: the denunciation of human rights violations; the struggle for demilitarization and democratization; the liberation of political prisoners; the search for truth and justice with respect to the disappeared; the return of the exiled; the legalization of unions and political parties; the cessation of censorship and persecution; the dis-intervention of educational institutions; economic and social solidarity and justice. González stated: The murgas were a very personal option because I identify myself with the positions that they hold. For that, I sacrificed greater economic opportunities. I became a well-paid Carnival worker and

90 / To Open Up the Night because of my conscience, I chose to participate in a cooperative regime. Of course, I received enormous satisfaction from La reina and after that from Falta. There were very brutal years, especially 1982 and 1984, when each stage was another bastion, where the people united to express their struggle against the dictatorship and one, without necessarily believing he was Che Guevara, felt that with his work he was contributing something to all that.106 Although González’s position was typical of many Carnival artists and workers, many others did not share these sentiments. Some self-described “apolitical troupes” felt that these political and ethical issues should be excluded from Carnival, as if a neutral, distant, and impartial territory existed and it were possible to work beyond the dichotomy of good and evil. For other groups, however, Carnival was the natural space to treat these issues, to articulate “the people’s perspective” or “the workingclass point of view,” and to promote it. The proponents of this latter position encountered differences as they devised approaches to ethical and political issues that, in turn, would produce various equations with economic, ethical, political, artistic, and existential variables. Certain groups eluded the difficulties of performing at Carnival by creating cooperative murgas. Individuals and groups generally excluded from the official Carnival developed the cooperative murgas during the struggle against the dictatorship. Participants and performers included university and secondary school students, theater actors, musicians, and the members of housing cooperatives, soup kitchens, religious organizations, civil associations, and political groups. The concept of a cooperative system with no interest in financial profits made it possible for these groups to enjoy greater independence, licentiousness, expressive creativity, and accessibility to people and groups with fewer resources. Nevertheless, and given that all performing groups had to finance their productions, these cooperatives relied on the contributions of some commercial patrons, diverse social, cultural, and political organizations, and finally, friends, family members, neighbors, and fans. On other occasions the cooperative murgas organized social and theatrical events of a “familial” or “neighborhood” nature to collect funds. The events, ranging from banquets, dances, and honoraria to large spectacles such as A las murgas las viste el pueblo (1983), occurred throughout the year. Cooperative murgas kept their expenses to a minimum, with visible results in costuming and other aspects of production. They also demanded greater cooperation among all participants and maintained a more democratic administration. In addition, these groups questioned and transformed the forms, meanings, and functions of the traditional

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murga, particularly with regard to its commercial decadence and economic preoccupations. A subgenre of the cooperative murga is the familiar form created among friends, neighborhoods and high school and university groups that circulated within their respective locales and institutions and therefore outside of the Carnival circuit. These groups reduced economic considerations to the minimum needed to construct and perform the murga. Their resources consisted primarily of personal contributions of members, friends and followers, fundraising events, and occasionally of spectators. In spite of these apparently simple variations, and as a consequence of the general jump in scale, Carnival and the murgas of the 1980s became complex social phenomena. They were distinct, although not completely separate, from the great comparsas of the nineteenth century or the first murgas that were performed in the bars and bodegas of the Old City, the Cordón or the Aguada. These original productions, like Los amantes al engrudo, Los políticos de la época, or Los patos cabreros, were artisans’ products, without pretense and ambition, of the nights of bohemia and histrionics in Montevideo’s wild 1920s.

Continuity and Change in Today’s Murgas: A General Reading As noted above, the Carnival of contemporary Montevideo consists of an array of annual representations that occur in set places, performed by organized companies, and regulated by corporate and state institutions. The categories of today’s Carnival are the murgas, the parodies, the comedy shows, the comparsas of negros lubolos, the review shows, the performances of popular music, the comic duos, and the magicians. While the lubolo groups participate in the parade and the street theater performances, the llamadas occur elsewhere. In spite of the long history and centrality of the llamadas in Carnival and their enormous contributions to Uruguay’s national culture (which date back to the parties, canyengues, and crowning of the nations’ kings in colonial Montevideo), they are distinct and unique. For the most part, they constitute a Carnival apart. In contrast with the Carnivals of the last century, women generally do not appear in the murgas, with the exceptions of the Anti-murga BCG and Los Buby’s. Women participate in the comparsas (both negra and lubola women) and the reviews, and also work as stylists and costume makers. When Joseline Calderoni and other women attempted to disrupt this pattern by forming integrated casts or casts of women only, they met

92 / To Open Up the Night insurmountable obstacles from their potential colleagues in the murgas as well as their bosses, coworkers, boyfriends, families, and friends. Unlike Carnivals of the past, today’s celebrations do not include the customs of throwing water, confetti, or rotten eggs. It is expected that Carnival will honor contemporary values and codes. The uninhibited sexuality, nudity, gluttony, excess, licentiousness, drunkenness, orgies, or insolence of the past, “the heroic times,” hardly appear in a Carnival that owes little to the regional, “barbarous” tradition of the nineteenth century or of carnivalesque traditions of antiquity. Instead, today’s Carnivals are descendants of the censored, repressed, watered-down, and “disciplined”107 celebrations of the turn of the century. Far from being on “the margins of the law” and official approbation, all ensembles, through the simple act of participating in public spectacles, submit to the control of the state and a vast number of regulations, poetics, laws, censures, and prohibitions that are either written or tacitly understood. With its completely public nature, Carnival is much more controlled than other cultural practices. A play produced in a theater hall can include more free expression and maneuverability, primarily because of a prejudice that perceives the audience to be “mature” and “cultured,” aware and abiding — characteristics that are not assumed for Carnival’s public. At the same time, Carnival’s ensembles are obliged to participate in the “formal affairs” of the televised inaugural parade along the 18th of July Avenue and the Official Contest. Radio and newspaper journalists cover the contest, which occurs night after night in the Ramón Collazo Summer Theater, the beautiful open-air amphitheater located at the quarries of the Parque Rodó, a few meters from the beach, rebaptized in Carnival’s jargon as “Wembley,” “The Temple,” or simply “The Theater.”108 While this participation suggests submission to the power of capitalist impresarios or the state (which weighs Carnival’s value as a tourist attraction against its potential for political antagonism), it also implies that the state and private interests are granting a margin of legitimacy and compromise. Their support of Carnival is translated into the generation of various types of resources and infrastructure. The Contest is an exhibition of artistic mastery and a competition for economic as well as moral and symbolic prizes. On one hand, it can become a competition between the works and the jury itself, particularly because the latter often favors the more obedient, traditional, and official aesthetics and proposals. On the other hand, it is a competition among the many ensembles and their “followers,” a symbolic contest that incorporates different social and political sectors, aesthetic programs, and historical projects. The performances of the neighborhood stages and sets, particularly the platforms of the poorer areas, are even more significant than the

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annual parade or the contest, in which carnivalesque troupes are outside of their natural environments and forced to walk silently and adhere to regulations in strictu sensu. In contrast to the parade’s punctuality, formality, and relative “alienation,” or the good behavior required in the contest, it is in the environment of the street and neighborhood stages that the murgas are permitted to blossom and shine. The poster on the following page lists a selection of the forty stages that were opened in 1988. While the numbers were lower than in 1987 or 1985, the 1988 Carnival included sixty-one companies: thirty-five murga ensembles, eight troupes of comedians, seven of parodists, seven groups of negros lubolos, and four review shows, aside from a multitude of other artists, popular singers, comic duos, clowns, and magicians.109 To repeat, today’s carnivalesque representations must be seen as a popular theater with many artistic creators and producers. It is a theater of sets and orchestras, one where those who don costumes, act, dance, sing, and express themselves are the actors and not the public. It is a theater of actors who pertain to a stable cast and are contracted, salaried workers. Life is substituted by representation in this theater, and the staged scenes are the results of many months of study, preparation, and rehearsals. Today, unlike in other periods, the murga includes more ensembles and individuals than other categories of carnivalesque performance. Each year there are several dozen murga troupes made up of individuals from the poorer classes, the traditional source of Carnival. Thus the popular classes become “the bearers of a cultural production” that uses the stage as its mode of communication. Each troupe performs up to six functions per day, at different stops. The performances begin at sunset, when the working day ends, and last until the early hours of the morning. Most performances occur during the official Carnival period that extends through the entire month of February, and occasionally into early March. Recently, some ensembles and even some professional groups continue to circulate throughout the entire year without restricting themselves to the conventional or official sites and periods. The murgas “of the four seasons,” the cooperative murgas, and the university murgas comprise the principal year-round companies. In the early 1980s, these three types were particularly numerous, and they continue to perform in theater halls and at dances, recitals, and social events. The murgas’ performance spaces, the tablados, differ markedly from the downtown theater halls, whose dramas conform to the conventions accepted by the authorities, theater professionals, critics, international festivals, or the academy. They are also different from the so-called popular theater. The tablados are popular not because their representatives

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TODAY Municipal Summer Theater “Ramón Collazo,” Parque Rodó. Official Contest of Carnival Groups, beginning at 8:00, with the performances of the following companies: the murga Los horneros, the murga La cenicienta, the murga La salsa, the murga Momolandia. Price of viewing areas: lower level, N$450, upper level, N$250. Director and animator, Servando Ruiz, El Boyero. Monument of Control. The murga Falta y resto, parodists Los Walkers, the murga La nueva milonga, and the murga Diablos verdes. Aguada Athletic Club. Company of negros lubolos, Kanela y su Barakuntanga, Bafo da Onça, the murga Falta y resto, the murga Araca la Cana, comedians Los Jokers, the company Los del pueblo, and the review Uruguay Show. Stockholm Athletic Club. Hermanos Salles, comedians Wimpis, the company Los del pueblo, the murga Don Timoteo, the review Uruguay Show, and the murga Anti-murga BCG. Mutual Society Garden. 1800 hours. Gilda, Sopita y el otro, El mago Chandrú, La zorzalera, Los paseanderos, the review Uruguay Show, the murga La gran muñeca, the murga La reina de la Teja, the murga Los diablos verdes, the company Los del pueblo, and the parodists Los Walkers. Garden of the Comparsas. Comic duo Yo kiero domir kon mamá, comedians Los Carlitos, the murga Don Timoteo, the murga Los Pierrots, the murga Los curtidores de hongos, and the parodists Los Walkers. Club Malvín. Parodists Caras y caretas, the murga Los saltimbanquis, parodists Los Gabys, comedians Los Charoles, the murga Los Pierrots, and the murga Los Maragatos. Club Liverpool. Comedians La escuelita del crimen, the murga Momolandia and Hermanos Salles, the review Uruguay Show, comedians Los Carlitos, and the murga Araca la Cana. The Light of the Posadas (High-Rise Complex). Comedian and clown El Pampa González, Grupo Géminis, the murga Falta y resto, company of negros lubolos Marabunta con Rosa Luna, and parodists Los Adams. Club Colón. Comedian and clown El Pampa González, the murga Reina de la Teja, group Canciones para no dormir la siesta, parodists Caras y caretas, the murga Los saltimbanquis, and the murga Los diablos verdes. Club Tabaré. Pako y Piko, group Canciones para no dormir la siesta, Anti-murga BCG, comedians Los Jokers, and the Show de Marta Gularte.

Figure 1. Sample poster from the Montevideo Carnival, 1988.

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come from the poorer classes or because their performances occur in popular spaces (for many reasons, a very small percentage of the population attend the theater halls). They are popular in the sense that they represent popular concerns, perspectives, and interests, contribute in some way to the realization of those interests, and experiment with the representation of the popular classes or marginality.110 With the exception of the Summer Theater (the state amphitheater where the performances of the Official Contest take place), the neighborhood stages are built with minimal resources, short-lived materials, and few conveniences. Occasionally they are installed on empty urban plots with no roofing, or other squares that are equipped each year for this purpose. Thus is the case, for example, of “The Garden of the Comparsas,” “The Garden of the Mutual,” “The Monument of Control,” and “The Theater of the Prado.” Between 1985 and 1990, the number of Carnival sets registered in Montevideo oscillated between thirty and sixty. The set, backdrop (material or allegorical), seats or benches, ticket booths, and even many of the surrounding walls, are made with flimsy, impermanent materials like scrap metal sheets, wooden or plaster planks,111 partition walls, bricks, cinderblocks, etc. Sometimes, the common walls of surrounding buildings boundary these improvised theaters; they become the “theater” walls and are often covered with peeling paint, graffiti, grates, vegetation, and old posters. On other occasions, the stages are mounted in social or sports clubs and open or covered basketball courts. Examples of this are the Club Olimpia of Colón, the Liverpool Football Club in Belvedere, the Tabaré Athletic Club in the Parque Batlle, the Atenas Club in Palermo or the Centennial Stadium, sometimes converted into the stage for Carnival’s inauguration and the parade’s site of coronation. To decorate the theaters, people use cables, hanging lamps, signs, paintings, and graffiti to dissimulate the humble or dingy appearance of the place and to create a “sense of spectacle.” They use microphones, amplifiers, and loudspeakers as well. Hot dog, soda, beer, wine, grappa, sausage, and cigarette vendors complete the scene. While they provide services for Carnival audiences and participants, they add their interjections, rituals, forms, textures, colors, lights, sounds, odors, and vapors to the scene. Along with the organizers, ensembles, the public, the journalists, and the followers, they contribute to defining Carnival’s ambience. While the notion of a “carnivalesque ambience” conjures up the image of a barbarous, uncontrolled, lewd, and excessive scene, the contemporary Montevidean Carnival is a rather ordered and serious affair, hardly associable with a loss of civility or urbanity, or with a spontaneous, chaotic, and motley display of a “dionysian,” “orgiastic,” “anthropophagic,” and “carnal” celebration. Instead, going to Carnival is much

96 / To Open Up the Night like going to the movies, a civic or religious event, a musical recital, or a soccer game. Of course, those who deprecate or do not attend Carnival often present it as a deformed, contemptible spectacle held in low-class neighborhoods, attended by “mobs” and “toothless criminals,” with “terrible noise,” “disorder,” and “bad smells.” From this perspective, the events that take place at the tablados would be distorted and compared unfavorably with “higher-quality” spectacles or displays offered in “high-quality” locations such as museums, expositions, concert halls, teahouses, and theaters. Offered by and for people of apparently “high quality,” these spectacles remain distinguished and overvalued with respect to the murgas. At the 1988 Carnival, however, this did not prevent the construction of approximately forty stages and sets and the sale of more than two million tickets, particularly significant numbers for a population of only 1.3 million. The murga, “a piece of our commedia dell’arte” according to Rosencof, is distinguished from other Carnival spectacles by its gestures, lyricism, voices, rhythm, structure, dance, choreography, costumes, makeup, choral arrangement, harmony, and instrumentation. Traditionally, the murga creates a critical retelling of the events of the year along with a particular message. The term murga also signifies the kind of music and song that is part of the spectacle, and murga “soundtracks” are widely circulated and cherished. The murga itself has become part of the popular music genre, one that record and radio industries have learned to trade and profit from. In terms of its more established symbolism, the murga embodies the people as king, divinity, or arbiter, the people making use of the word, expressing their concerns, desires, and struggles, upholding their own interpretations of social experience and the meaning of history. La soberana (The sovereigness), La reina de la Teja (The queen of la Teja), Araca la Cana (Watch out, the cops are coming), Falta y resto (Maximum bet), Diablos verdes (Green devils), Anti-murga BCG (Vaccine against the tuberculosis bacillus), La gran muñeca (The big doll), Don Timoteo (Sir Timothy), Patos cabreros (Down and out), La gran clásica (The great classic), and Asaltantes con patente (Registered thieves) are some of the murgas of recent years that best exemplify this tradition. In spite of a certain tendency toward autonomy, today as before the murgas are situated in and around working-class neighborhoods, residential cooperatives, student unions, social and sports clubs, cantinas and bars, places where people gather, rehearse, and perform each night. The murgas’ daily circuit includes various stages. Each stage, that is, each business or owner, contracts various murgas to perform each night. The companies travel from one stage to another in a hired truck or bus, their journey extending until midnight. Each performance lasts between

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thirty and sixty minutes, depending on whether the performance is partial or complete. At the Summer Theater, the performances are complete; on the tablados, the performances are usually partial so that the same murga can revisit the stage and offer a different spectacle. In scene, the murgas consist of a chorus, director, battery of musicians, and the cupleteros, or principal protagonists of the couplets. When it is time to perform, a master of ceremonies announces them and the murgas enter dancing, playing, and singing or reciting the greeting. Dressed with exuberant, fantastic, or allegorical costumes and with their faces painted, the performers march to the rhythm and song of the instruments and voices to initiate the murga. Their director is responsible for prologues and presentations. The greeting is followed by a series of couplets or potpourris, which is succeeded by the retirada, or farewell. After the retirada, the performers exit, again marching to the beat of the music, apparently moving along to another stage. In their representations, the murgas first present themselves and greet the audience, celebrating their return. Then performers review critically, satirically, and paradoxically the events of the year. Finally they bid farewell with reminders of their popular nature, their loyalty to the people’s desires and struggles, their ancestral promise to sustain memories and to return every year. In a classic scheme, the presentation and retirada, respectively, initiate and close the performance. Together with the chorus’s primary role (scenic representation of the body and popular conscience), the racconto and the message of the retiradas (annual hymn of each murga) project a mode of seeing and understanding the experience that both strains and seeks to transcend the sociohistorical order in effect. The presentation disrupts that order and the retirada laments the performers’ obligations to return. The order is represented as antagonistic, perverse, absurd, and grotesque in the potpourris and couplets (even if the chorus or some characters remain outside, distant and critical, of that grotesque order). In this way, the order of the experience outside the space of Carnival is in conflict with everything within that space, with alternative symbols and histories. The message that the murgas propose in their retiradas, although they express the sadness of exile, departure, the return to normalcy, is one of encouragement, a promise of utopia. In recent years, the popular transculturators of Carnival have sought to replace its acritical tradition, celebration of grotesque reality, perverse manipulation of popular sentiments and expectations, populist demagogy, moral and political ambiguity, conformity, nostalgia, formal exhaustion, and repetition of images, clichés, and phrases. These phrases include gorrión de barrio (neighborhood sparrow), sonrisa de niño (child’s smile), mágico instante (instant magic), reino de la ilusión (king of illusion), febrero (February), febril (feverish), alegría (happiness), brillo

98 / To Open Up the Night (brilliant), sueño fugaz (fleeting dream), saludo cordial (cordial greeting), abrazo triunfal (triumphant embrace), bohemia del carnaval (Carnival’s bohemia), alas (wings), emoción (emotion), vibrar (to vibrate), corazón (heart), latir (to beat or throb), and others of this family. Through the murga, carnavaleros problematize social and historical themes, propose a creative imagination more coherent with the values, expectations, and sensibility of the times and Carnival’s changing public, and project a more self-critical, experimental, and irreverent position that integrates the elements of the spectacle with a desire for social transformation. This new way of doing the murga not only addresses political life; it also implies new ways of reworking the fantastic, absurd, grotesque, comical, naughty, critical, and erotic. It offers new ways of invoking and deploying laughter and pleasure, the concept of utopia, Carnival’s characters and archetypes, dialogue, music, singing, costumes, gestures, the manipulation of space and time, relations with the public, relations with organizations and institutions, etc. The raw materials and nutrients of Carnival’s current discourse have grown significantly. Traditionally, the murgas were based principally in the sentimental jargon accumulated through years of annual Carnivals, in the unusual newspaper headlines, and in the epic soccer tales. Today, in each performance, the murga absorbs and processes every type of symbolic material at its disposal. Its art lies in the combination, reelaboration, and rewiring of the official, cultured and televised discourse as well as in the recovery and critique of national customs, folklore, history, mythology, and tradition.112 The significance of the murgas is enhanced even further if we consider their transgression of the limits, regulations, poetics, and conventions that work to confine and restrict the spectacles; their totalizing, heterogeneous, and dialectical nature; the certainty and solidity that supply their cyclical and ritual forms for the collective imagination; the characteristic pilgrimage through the stages that connect different neighborhoods and spaces; their centrality in the national, popular, and symbolic universe as a force of solidarity and a model of collective expression and exchange; or their participation in and contribution to in the social, cultural, and political activities that concern, convene, and mobilize the people. In the following section, I survey the various symbolic and narrative elaborations of the existence and experience produced by the murgas. Thence I consider the ways that they transform Carnival first into a religious practice and a constructive ritual of community, faith, and utopia; second, into a platform for the representation, vindication, and promotion of human rights; and third, into a battleground of opposing historical projects, in which the murgas posit an alternative civilizing order.

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In this sense, the murgas present themselves or appear as a band of “dreamers,” “lunatics,” or “new barbarians” (or even as “new civilizers” if the perspective is changed). With the premise of adoring forgotten or buried gods, heroes, and values, these “madmen” come from the depths, from beyond, from the memory or the forgotten, from a sort of diaspora (the exodus/return repeated in a circular form, like a spell or condemnation), and return to the troupes, assemblies, or bastions of the tablados. From here, symbolically or figuratively, the lettered city, the expropriated city, the “powerful city is besieged” and tried. The popular public sphere, the sacred site of the reunited collectivity, takes shape once again, and the mythic space of a national, democratic, and popular epic reemerges.

– Three –

Theology of Carnival: The Religious Masks of Carnivalesque Theater Answer, Momo! Are you God, Devil, or human? — Anti-murga BCG, 1988

For the murgas of Uruguay’s Carnival, Harlequin is a revered symbol and character, like Columbine or Pierrot, who remains elusive, ever changing, and eccentric. In Italian and French theater, his origin, history, and identity unfold as a spectrum of varied apparitions, signs, and associations. At times Harlequin is no more than the servant, alternately (or simultaneously) foolish, servile, scheming, comedic, tricky, foul-mouthed, eloquent, silent, or terse. With a costume of acrobatic movements, a face mask of large black circles surrounding the eyes, a dizzying speech, a jester’s cap (à la Francis I, with a rabbit or fox tail), a horn or other protuberance at the forehead, torn and filthy clothes pieced together from multicolored remnants, this Harlequin is a world apart from the highly stylized, silk- and feather-adorned fantasies of Molière, Goldoni, or Racine celebrated in Paris and Venice. Along with the servants, laborers, and other symbolic characters drawn from the poorer classes (the ghostly white lover, dreamer, and romantic Pierotto/Pierrot; Pagliaso, the flour-colored, sad, and melancholic clown; Zanni, Brighella, or Polichinella), Harlequin is one of the principal characters of the commedia dell’arte of the Renaissance and, later, of the Italian comedy. Harlequin sometimes appears in Renaissance and baroque theaters as Proteus, god of the sea, possessor of the gift of prophecy and the ability to change appearances; Mercury, the messenger god, patron of travelers, fugitives, merchants, thieves, and beggars; or as Vulcan, the monarch of the depths. He appears in some seventeenth-century engravings as a ragged and deranged wandering knight. In his more remote history, he 100

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is associated with Erlkönig, the ninth-century German knight and king who died while fighting the Normans. This early representation gave birth to the legend of the demonic Harlequins who were identified with the diabolical specters and malevolent jesters of the early Middle Ages. An eleventh-century monk named Olderico Vitale described the leader of a band of infernal beings, possibly the same Harlequin as the king of the demons mentioned in a scene from Adam de la Halle’s Jeu de Feuillé, represented by Arrás, in the thirteenth century. In Dante’s Inferno, one of the demons is named Alichino.1 Like Harlequin, Uruguay’s murgas permit a wealth of different associations, interpretations and readings of their significance and identity. An attempt to reconstruct the meaning or the function of the troupes’ narrative and symbolic articulations, understood as fundamental components of the national culture, carries with it the ambition to reconstruct the meaning and logic behind the words and actions of the performers as well as the viewers. Such an effort demands analysis beyond the interpreter’s subjectivity and calls for investigation, questioning, and references to dates, graphs, sociological and historical data, interviews, and documents. I emphasize ambition over result because I am not certain of the degree to which such a reconstruction is possible. The meaning proposed in this analysis may be coincidental with or alien to the original meaning(s) of the text, due to its application, its use, and the meanings that the interpreters or messengers inevitably imputed or unconsciously imprinted upon the text. The interpretive process is dynamic and relatively boundless, even when it is confined to certain horizons, and the ultimate meaning is elusive and always tentative, the object of new twists, discursive themes, and negotiations. With this in mind, the trajectories of meaning offered here are merely proposed interpretations that focus on and are shaped by the reflection and critique of Uruguay’s national culture at a particular moment when “the symbolic horizon of neoliberalism” tended to favor and stabilize a particular set of possible meanings. That stated, the text now turns to explore three possible readings of the carnivalesque universe of the murgas, set forth as a set of narrative and symbolic texts produced by the troupes in order to give meaning to social and historical experiences. Through these interpretations, the Carnival can be viewed in the following schemes: a sacred space in which the inhabitants try to reconstruct a community and a meaning of existence that have been lost; a space that exhibits the conflict of creatures bifurcated into bodies and disintegrated masks (half beasts, half divinities) who struggle to rebuild the integrity of the human person; and a banquet or popular feast in which acrobats, jugglers, clowns, and mimes

102 / Theology of Carnival narrate and celebrate the popular, national epic poem: the inculcation of a new social order and a new civilization.

Reading Carnival as Popular Religion Culture is a rite of rites, the complex, continuous and indefatigable structuring . . . of articulation and rearticulation of the ritualization of innate models created for situations past and re-created, shaped by new situations.2 We must pray to you, Master of the Universe, to you, Momo, God, King of all the Farces’ Performers. Honor this prayer that is given in your honor and set our laughter free, if you can. Leave the kingdom of the shadows, rise up and walk among men Restore the color and the smile and nourish once again the songs. Give us the courage to defeat the impious politicians. Do not permit them to pressure the Jury. Punish the evil of the insane. See that your sovereign justice reigns among men.3 In Latin America, and particularly in the Southern Cone, the failure of the emancipatory project of peripheral capitalism, the deterioration of liberal democratic institutions, and the inadequacies of current scientific discourses that attempt to explain and transform popular social and historical conditions have been accompanied by an alternative series of projects, institutions, and theoretical developments. Among these developments, the rebirth of religious discourses is salient. With the consolidation of the neoliberal state, Uruguayans for the most part had exhausted their expectations and enthusiasm surrounding the processes of the so-called transition to democracy. Although still underway, these processes are no longer seen as a utopian, emancipatory project, but instead as a dystopic discourse, the manifestation of a closing of horizons, of the impossibility of universal development or complete democracy, and the adjustment and adaptation to this fate. Although the social, political, and cultural critique of the movement against the dictatorship generated hope for the possibility of a framework for passing human rights legislation, ending socioeconomic oppression, and

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democratizing social and political life, except for the relative restoration of some civil liberties, deception and paralysis increased with few obstacles and pauses as the end of the 1980s approached.4 The following were significant contributors to the latter processes: the limitations and horizons imposed by the current international hegemonic order; extreme inequalities of power between owners of capital and workers, between the integrated and disenfranchised, between the military and civil societies, between hegemonic and counter-hegemonic social and political forces, and between the metropolis and peripheries of the capitalist system; and, no less important, the relative inability of leftist social, political, and cultural organizations to better articulate the movements and interests that in more or less isolated, partial, or temporary forms resist or oppose the diverse manifestations of the neoliberal model. As stated above, the crisis or disparagement of prevalent liberation projects caused other discourses and institutions to experience greater prestige, even beyond what they deserved. Such was the case with official Catholicism, various religious sects, the Opus Dei, liberation theology, Protestant fundamentalism, televangelism, and African American religions, all of which competed to “explain” and “respond” to the new social circumstances. In the case of Uruguay, it is difficult to trace the role or importance of religion and religious rituals. Uruguayan society, for the most part, relegated religion to the margins or to a place of secondary importance; if not marginalized, religious thoughts and institutions simply had become obsolete. Beyond the accuracy of this estimation (which reflects the desire to secularize society and the relative success in this endeavor on the part of early twentieth-century hegemonic sectors), the secondary and ambiguous role of religion is based on events and factors that undoubtedly shaped Uruguay’s national culture. These include the delayed and minimal occupation of the territory in the colonial period; the colony’s relative economic and political irrelevance; the relative weakness of bureaucratic and ecclesiastic colonial institutions; the early separation of the state and the Catholic Church; and the positivist, rationalist, secular, even anticlerical, character that characterized a large part of the dominant sectors, particularly the Colorado Party, during much of the country’s history. In the early twentieth century, hegemonic classes used state institutions to diffuse and implant a positivist, scientific, and secular vision of history and the Uruguayan social experience. The vision corresponded to projects of rationalization, modernity, and industrialization, which the dominant sectors hoped to implement. Legal, medical, historical, sociological, literary, and ethical discourses replaced theology and biblical discussions. Ideologies of the civil state, nationalism, and the welfare

104 / Theology of Carnival state overshadowed the Christian divinities, rituals, and cosmologies and posited the legitimizing and homeostatic function of the developing state. Political bosses, doctors of letters and medicine, writers and public speakers displaced priests and patron saints. Liberal-bourgeois ideologies and effective social policies bequeathed redemptive, messianic, and utopian messages upon the dominant classes, allowing people to believe in the possibility of transformation, if not in terms of the soul’s salvation, then certainly in terms of human and social progress. Inextricably linked with Spanish colonialism, the traditional wealthy and poor classes, the rural sectors, and some European immigrant groups,5 religion was always considered synonymous with mythology, conservatism, barbarism, irrationality, cultural backwardness, and in sum an obstacle to social progress. Both liberals and leftists felt that religion and everything associated with it were best left in the past. In Uruguay’s modern history, however, the church and its leaders still managed to maintain social, ethical, and cultural influences over a large sector of the society. It is impossible to ignore, for example, the JudeoChristian, and particularly the Catholic, foundations of many operative stories, values, attitudes, practices, and institutions (at times like a “libretto” and an ethical framework, at other times like a “masquerade”) in everyday social praxis and official discourses of both the bourgeoisie and the left. Nevertheless, the Catholic Church and openly religious or theological movements found it difficult to sustain their influence at the official level, as in other regions and even in neighboring South American nations like Argentina or Chile. During the process of implementing the liberal-bourgeois project, the hegemonic bloc, along with part of the opposition, managed to subordinate the power of the church and minimize the explicit use of Christian discourse to explain and give meaning to the social and historical experiences of the country. The mention of “God,” “the Virgin,” “the saints,” “paradise,” or “the afterlife,” so prevalent in other Latin American nations and even the United States, was very rare in speeches or texts by Uruguay’s governmental authorities, political classes in general, academicians, scientists, and professionals, for it would be considered a violation and an assault of the country’s secular character. The crisis of dependent capitalism (that is, social democracy’s model of the periphery), the crisis of democratic institutions, and the twelve years of neoliberal dictatorship brought with them significant ideological and cultural consequences. Unfulfilled promises of social progress, democratization, and prosperity were displaced by their antithesis, a miserable economy and the successive social costs associated with each wave of capitalist “restructuring” and “scientific modernization.” This weakened the great explanatory myths and master narratives of the national culture

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and its future prospects, though, interestingly enough, without necessarily causing Uruguayans to reject many aspects of neoliberalism. Yet the process of disenchantment affected political institutions and modern discourses broadly and paved the way for the resurgence of religious institutions and ideologies. A number of recent processes attest to the revival of religious discourses, including the military regime’s crusade to preserve the “Western and Christian way of life”; the vociferous Catholic fundamentalism of the magazine El Soldado (The soldier); the close relations between the civil-military complex and a number of religious institutions during the dictatorship; the consolidation of the Reverend Moon sect as an influential economic, political, and cultural entity in the country; the authorization, given at the last moment by the military regime, of university status for the Dámaso A. Larrañaga Institute of Philosophy and Letters, the only Catholic university in modern Uruguay and the very first private university of the twentieth century; the emergence of evangelical churches and radio and television evangelists from Brazil and the United States; and the growth of Afro-American religions. The list must include the two visits of Pope John Paul II and the construction of a gigantic white iron cross that, situated at a well-traveled intersection in Montevideo, looms over the dense and chaotic forest of monoliths, antennae, and monuments that inundate the historical site of Tres Cruces (Three Crossroads).6 In addition, several cabinet figures have stood on fundamentally Catholic political platforms in recent decades. For example, the Public Health Ministry of the National Party (1989 –94), and specifically Minister Delpiazzo, employed Catholic ideology in its opposition to promoting condoms as a means to prevent the spread of AIDS. In addition, various members of the party showed sympathy toward the local chapter of the Spanish Christian organization Opus Dei, which extended its presence and influence in more recent years. However, several religious orders and lay religious organizations offered their material and human resources to the opposition. Several groups participated quite conspicuously in the struggles to fight the dictatorship, restore democratic and legal institutions, uphold ideas of reunion and social reorganization, and defend human rights. For example, students, guilds, and unions were able to gather and hold their assemblies in the protected havens of convents; Christians figured predominantly in the Uruguayan chapter of SERPAJ (an ecumenical organization formed to defend and promote human rights); private centers of research and education with Christian affiliations, such as the Institute of Man or the Latin American Center of Human Economics (CLAEH), were established; and more generally, some progressive Catholic schools or cadres of professors established consciousness-raising instruction at all levels; popular

106 / Theology of Carnival music festivals, meetings of spiritual reflection, social discussions, and sociopolitical work. This religious revival, which reveals a disfigured Uruguay, needs to be seen as a symptom of something that was still more profound. Indeed, much more is discovered when we look to the less conventional spaces, such as secular and even antireligious discourses, to discover in them a religious, and particularly Judeo-Christian (albeit in a new form), character or tone. Thus the discourse of Uruguay’s Carnival over the last decade is an attractive site for analysis. In this section I consider an ensemble of religious metanarratives that partially constitute that discourse. At this point, the analysis begs a number of probing questions. Is it possible to argue that Carnival’s representations function as a mask for the religiosity of an allegedly “secular” Uruguayan society? Is it possible that this religiosity is transmuted into a carnivalesque and polytheistic cult? Which social sensibilities and needs are served by this religiosity? What gods are worshiped? What types of theologies correspond to these carnivalesque rituals? What narratives, attitudes, and values are produced and put in circulation? What are the aesthetic and the poetics of this religiosity? How do the participants dramatize religiosity? Unable to formulate all possible questions or to completely answer the questions mentioned here, I merely intend to suggest a line of investigative work, an analytic approach to the Carnival and Uruguay’s national culture never undertaken until now. My analysis is intended to unearth and discuss the many societal projects, ideas, values, meanings, and explanatory and mobilizing discourses that emerged in this hour of crisis of meaning and representation. Like all the cultural practices of the popular classes, the rituals and dramatizations of Uruguay’s Carnival also have preserved and transformed the ideologies, values, and meanings that were believed to have been cast off, displaced, or disfigured by hegemonic processes. Such is the case with Christianity, which, aside from its resurgence articulated to the military, was latent underneath the thin varnish of official, secular discourses. However, Carnival preserved this religiosity in an altered form. Carnival’s production, representation, and reception have transformed this religiosity, which is essentially a form of Christianity, into something new and unique, a cult or civil religion.7 Assuming that the study of “the representations of Carnival permits us to visualize the unraveling of basic myths, utopias, and even counter-utopias upon which the national imagination rests,”8 the following section considers such representations in an effort to disentangle, to disembowel if you will, carnivalesque rituals and religiosity and their meanings. Such reflection will also permit us to visualize the ways in which we weave and interweave new counter-utopias and utopias.

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The Poetics of Carnivalesque Theater First and foremost we need to think of today’s Carnival as a phenomenon of the present, a living cultural practice, a product of contemporary Uruguayan culture. Nevertheless, as argued above, Carnival is also connected to a tradition that has survived for several decades within the national culture, one that dates back to the colonial period and that may be tied to the very center of the human condition. During the eighteenth and much of the nineteenth centuries, Carnival existed only in the form of the Christian processions, dances and parties that filled Montevideo’s calendar and stage: the celebrations of Christmas Eve, Christmas, the New Year, the Day of the Three Magi, and Corpus Christi, for example. These parties took place in the streets and plazas of the Old City and its primitive cathedral, the Iglesia Matriz. Although they were exceptional occasions when some marginalized groups, such as the subculture of African slaves and freed slaves residing in Montevideo’s outskirts,9 became central protagonists, the celebrations were not spectacles of the margin. Rather, they were central social and civic events of urban life. They were also principal instruments for reconciliation between antagonistic classes and interests. A slave-owning society celebrated the “peaceful coexistence” and “brotherhood” of masters and slaves. Many celebrated outwardly, but another procession “ran within,” one that came out only through the language of the drums. Carnival, through its genealogy and its ties to the Christian rituals of the state, has always functioned in terms of the Western, patriarchal, bourgeois, and Christian values and institutions that sustained the state. Its burlesque and “representation of the world turned upside down” reflected a brief moment when the expression of a marginalized culture and identity was permitted. Yet as an instance of a symbolic negotiation with the hegemonic culture, this moment helped to reaffirm, propagate, and secularize the values, programs, and institutions fundamental to hegemony itself. A matter of concern for the nineteenth-century bourgeois state (in its role of “disciplining the body”) and the church (in its role of “educating the spirit”), supposedly barbaric Carnival was modernized, that is, mollified and sterilized, around 1870. It was transformed into a straitjacketed affair, a domesticated and decorous, even gallant spectacle, ultimately, a “disciplined” Carnival.10 Thus ends the “heroic,”11 unregulated, participatory, festive Carnival of parties, dances, wild meanderings through the streets, fights, rotten eggs, rockets, and water balloons.12 Thus begins the tradition of a Carnival made up of imported costume and masquerade dances held in salons or in the Solís Theater, the Parade and the Contest; a theatricalized13 Carnival that evokes allegorical carriages, queens, and

108 / Theology of Carnival figures with oversized heads intended to scare and amuse children, confetti, bottles of perfumed water; a Carnival of street stages, comparsas, parodies, creole murgas (descendants of the zarzuelas) with their directors adorned in top hats, tails, and canes, white gloves, painted faces, grand smiles, leading a chorus with fabulous suits that emulated the great companies of Venice or New Orleans; the Carnival of the bass and snare drums and the cymbals. Aside from the historical practice of imitating European traditions and styles of the metropolis, a variety of other factors affected the transformation of Carnival. The growth of Montevideo’s population, with emigrants from Brazil, Europe, and the Uruguayan countryside, obliged the bourgeoisie to forge certain changes in collective mentalities and habits in order to instigate urban integration and coexistence. In addition, the bourgeoisie desired the country’s insertion into the capitalist international market and demanded change in the national culture, adaptations that would make lifestyles and sensibilities compatible with the logic of national and international capital accumulation. Finally, the modern media of science, communication and the coercive apparatus of the state made it possible to discipline society effectively. Milita Alfaro described Carnival’s reform, beginning at the end of the nineteenth century: slowly but surely, Carnival’s reform had begun. The masquerade dances, comparsas, the control over costumes . . . would all mark the inauguration of a new Carnival. Carnival, once lived as a sensory and corporal expression, became a spoken, sung, and performed experience . . . each time with less for participants to do and more to see and hear. From this time on, the celebration grew in accord with a new symbolic order, a novel way of living and feeling in the new country; a new way of feeling that negates gambling, loitering, and public parties, constrains sexuality, hides death, and replaces it with corporal punishment intended to repress the soul.14 Carnival had lost the spirit of living reality and human warmth that it once held. Planned with speculative but dazzling criteria, the new Carnival suffered from the lack of popular spontaneity and solidarity that once were its character traits.15 According to the Regulation, “its criticism should in no way suppose the destruction of values and good habits.”16 Submitted to innumerable regulations and censures, Carnival became a controlled and staged practice, seemingly far from the power of the state or capital, but in reality one of the many institutions of social and cultural life through which hegemony is exercised and reproduced.

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In the twentieth century, society grew more complex and specialized to such a degree that it produced another series of institutions for congregation and collectivization, political expression and conflict negotiation. This process left the ritual of Carnival in a marginalized position, with tourist and ornamental value only. Radio, movies, and sports spectacles displaced the centrality of Carnival as a site for symbolic encounters among the citizenry. Carnival remained a neighborhood social event with corsos, stages, masquerade balls, the elections of queens, a small-scale economic activity, a political activity where certain problems are discussed and current events or political personalities are criticized or ridiculed. With some exceptions, these events did not transcend the microcosm of the barrio. Instead, they reaffirmed the conformity of the poorer classes, who reserved a certain right to complain. They became counter-utopian rituals that perpetuated common sentiments, erroneous images and archaic myths, and thus reaffirmed confidence in the nation and strengthened the significance of a mediocrity impelled by faith.17 The situation began to change when Carnival’s artists, responding to the Latin American crisis and energized by the revolutionary, anticolonialist mood of the 1960s, recaptured the critical, militant tradition of nineteenth-century comparsas like Los oportunos or La radical and twentieth-century murgas such as “Crazy” Reyes’s Los amantes al engrudo, Tenore and Nogara’s Los políticos de la época, Los vagabundos de fibra by Alfredo Moreno, the founder of the Federation of Neighborhood Theaters, which resulted in murgas like Lorenzo’s Araca la Cana, Iglesias’s Diablos verdes, Maidana’s La gran muñeca, and Alanís’s La soberana.18 From that moment, the murgas could no longer be characterized as uniformly conformist or counter-utopian. Indeed, their oppositional, messianic, utopian, and revolutionary character was fortified and made dominant. In consequence, these characteristics described the Carnival of the 1980s and ’90s. Many Carnival ensembles withstood the persecutions, censures, and prohibitions and continued to contribute to the resistance and transcendence of the military order.19 The unique resurgence of Carnival in the 1980s resulted, ironically, from the neoliberal regime’s nullification of any congregational institution or group that could contribute to a national collective. The regime effectively eliminated the political and symbolic interchange between social sectors, particularly at the level of dialogue and negotiation between civil society and the state where the organizing structure of social experience and the fate of the collective are decided. With their expressions of a latent or reemerging political conscience, Carnival’s ritual theatricalities partially occupied the void and became spaces of religion, congregation, and mediation. They responded to a need for transcendence: to transcend the times, to give meaning to the life outside of or beyond the meanings

110 / Theology of Carnival and ways of living offered by restructured capitalism. They responded to the need for gathering and uniting around a collective project with teleological meaning. Given the indispensability of the institutions normally disposed to satisfy these personal and collective needs, Carnival did not waste the opportunity to garner such a role. In the past, Carnival reaffirmed hegemonic culture through permitted, fleeting forms of parody and burlesque or through rare expressions of the prohibited. In the context of the dictatorship, however, parody became a paraphrase and the prohibited became a desirable social project with real political possibilities. With the dictatorship’s disruption of the world turned right-side up, the meaning of Carnival and its inversion was changed. Now the inversion restored what was absent, that sense of the world being right-side up, making it present within the confines of Carnival. The dictatorial order, rather than Carnival’s representations, was seen as grotesque, abnormal, profane, immoral, and absurd. If Christian, liberal, and democratic institutions were once the object of Carnival’s burlesque, in the context of the dictatorship Carnival transformed these into propositions of religiosity and democracy. The “people of the murgas and Carnival” became a people of god ( Momo), persecuted and abused, reunited in the catacombs of Carnival. Adoring his pantheon of prohibited idols and symbols, the people returned from Exodus and moved to the Promised Land, the free world they envisioned beyond the profane city. There the people congregated to reveal the mystery of the existential, historical, and transcendental meanings of their experiences, their mission here on earth, to proselytize the coming glory and to place the stones of the new ecclesia. Araca’s chorus expresses this sentiment in its reinterpretation of Víctor Jara’s Plegaria: Rise and take up these songs come and together we will seek the reasons together we will go hand in hand today is the day I call you my brother Today Carnival fixes our hearts and with laughter releases our anxieties like the nightingale who sings like the wind with the voice of equals and sings like the people on a night of love Araca will strip your soul like the faithful Quixote, resuscitated to build the free world that he dreamed of and to confront the windmills that impede reason20

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“Dionysian Enlightenment”: A Bacchanal to Devour Death On the coast of Asia Minor, as early as the eighth century b.c., the cult of Dionysus/Bacchus enjoyed group intoxication, sexual orgies, sacrifices, and cannibalism. Dionysus was killed, dismembered, and resuscitated. Son of Zeus/Jupiter, the all-powerful and very prolific father, and Semele, a mortal ascended to Olympus by her son’s mediation, Dionysus is associated with fertility, wine, celebrations, and sensual and earthly pleasures. The cult of Dionysus and his court of satyrs, fauns, and nymphs, all derived from cultures of agriculture, gives rise to the cycle of birth, maturity, death, and “rebirth.” Carnival provided the perfect medium through which, after completing their labors, people gathered to enjoy the fruits of their labors and the pleasure of living, thus justifying and giving meaning to the efforts and penuries of their work and the form of social organization it allowed. Since they celebrated with poetry, singing, dance, and theater, Greek culture adopted Dionysus as their patron and honorary figure. The cult was, however, domesticated and refined, liberated of any aspects that were unacceptable in Greek civilization. Dithyrambs, satires and tragedies, the antecedents of today’s theater, were created as offerings to Dionysus during the festivals.21 These early dramas probably looked a great deal like current murga representations. Nevertheless, the god of the Uruguayan Carnival apparently is not Dionysus, but Momo. God of satire, criticism, and burlesque, Momo is a secondary divinity from Dionysus’s cohort in the Greek tradition. Momo apparently lacks Dionysus’s potential, density, multiplicity, and symbolic and narrative complexity. For some unknown reason, Momo surpasses Dionysus in Uruguay’s Carnival and in the popular imagination. According to the Real Academia, Momo is the god of gentility, thus called because he occupies himself by criticizing and ridiculing the other gods.22 Gentility here means “the religion of the gentiles,” those “idolaters or pagans” that do not recognize the cult of “the true god.” Momo is “the one who illuminated the darkness of gentility” for Uruguayans, at least those who participated in and enjoyed Carnival, and transformed them (“we are fabulous little gentiles”23). The development of a national carnivalesque vocation can be understood only through the exploration of Carnival’s meaning and function, its symbolic and narrative aspects, and the birth of a mystique and an existential-transcendental attitude amid the confusion and darkness of the dictatorship. Not only did the military regime signify incarcerations, persecutions, tortures, assassinations, and massive economic, social, and political changes, it also engendered a political culture that worked to eradicate any symbols, images, stories, or rituals that celebrated, or simply

112 / Theology of Carnival alluded to, the way of life prior to 1973. People resisted the identities and meanings offered up by the military discourse and its call to passive subordination and indifference toward the government, often by focusing on the social and cultural “others” that were hidden or prohibited. Resistance was hinged upon a quiet act of converting “the subordinates” into “the subversives” or “the heretics of small heresies.”24 Within the culture of resistance, people spoke in hushed tones, communicated with winks, wore disguises, used dramatics, read between the lines, and disseminated visions, prophecies, and signs. Thus people began to cultivate idols, gods, and prohibited values that became signals of “a world beyond,” that is, a world unacceptable within the symbolic horizon of the dictatorial culture. Within this world, there was a natural proclivity for the adoration of the profane, which was slowly consecrating itself and sustaining the genesis of a collective of various idolatries. As the object of that heretical obsession, the beyond, the over there, was perceived as more valuable and pleasant than the here and now. The word aquello,25 or that one, meaning the item that is relatively farthest, the opposite of this, acquired a mysterious appeal, a dense and total significance. In this word, aquello, the lost meaning, the missing key, the hidden, prohibited, and unnameable resided. In 1980, the rejection of the Dictatorial Project of Constitutional Reform26 signaled that aquello was enormous and that, surprisingly, more than half the country was on a shared wavelength. With the appearance of popular music concerts, one well-known murga song announced: the murga is growing the murga is armed come, neighbors all to form a single heart the murga is hope the murga is love Another song instructed: scratch the surface stir up the dead leaves dance in masquerade27 With ulterior motives that were both overt and surreptitious, these songs used a carnivalesque symbolic universe that placed the murga as the specter of a buried, hidden world struggling “to reemerge.” In a world of melodrama and the grotesque, popular songs and the murgas were striking signs, magnified by the malicious complicity that expressed itself through silences and repetitions. The murga became a

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symbol of the people reunited, which was also manifest through loud protests, blackouts, assemblies, general strikes, marches, graffiti, and social and artistic acts of civil, guild-oriented, or political content. People responded to the llamadas (which also means calls), the same llamadas through which the blacks of the poor neighborhoods Sur and Palermo invited people to congregate and march in comparsa. The people responded and participated in the murgas and the llamadas, using drums, pots and pans, and voices, marched in procession, united to find out who they were, what they thought, who was there, who had gone, who was going to return. Aside from the famous murgas and other memorable spectacles, many unions, cooperatives, schools, and universities emerged as murgas to fight, speaking through “the voice of nylon.” The siren of the old stage has sounded again cobblestones return to life28 For its performers and participants, the murga provided the practical and symbolic forms to represent, express, hear, protect, authenticate, and multiply themselves, and in the process to reconstruct the popular public sphere. Making reference to the redoblante, or snare drum, used in the murgas, the verb redoblar, which means to roll, refers not only to the drums but also to the redoubling of efforts, struggles, and hopes. The song “A redoblar” became one of the most hummed or murmured hymns of the times: happiness will return to be entwined with your voice to be measured in your hands and to be sustained in your sweat it will erase the painted grimaces on a fragile box of silence and a breeze of the murga will come forth tonight, friends, roll! each on his own shadow each on his own amazement roll and roll, unearthing and revealing false emotion, the la-la-la the fleeting kiss, the mask of faith to prove that the night lends us its trucks and on its back of balconies and entrance they await us, other snare drums await us

114 / Theology of Carnival another voice, tired of feeling the bitterness of pain boys, to redouble the hope that beats within us so that its rhythm is never forgotten because the heart does not want to intone more retiradas29 With the absence of other types of social occasions, collectivity, and expression, the murga and Carnival became metaphors for the reunion of the people, who met again and again at the Carnival and each time awoke, recollected memories, and expressed themselves. “Murga is the brotherly magnet / that illuminates the whole town / . . . Murga are the thousand corners / that hold our memories.”30 Here one spoke of streets and stages, of soup kitchens, of yesterday and of aquello, and of what would come next. Communication occurred in codes, in poetry, in the ditties of the chorus, and in misplaced musical notes. The combined voices of the murgas’ choral arrangements made reference to the voice of a national-popular collective that was diverse but more or less in unison: They say that the murga is a bass drum and a snare drum the murga is the wind of voices that pulls you forward31 Pilgrim song of our city . . . its beat is a mystical cry that shatters the dark32 Thus they returned to sound the same cymbals, drums, and falsettos of the records and cassettes that circulated in secrecy or that had been thrown away or burned. Everything referred to a secret, ghostly, protected, irresistible world that was to reappear. Each rumor or scrap signaled a black legend, a history left behind. People pursued these stories with the patience of archeologists, the skills of spies, the pleasure of revealing a mystery, and the caution and concern over the unfolding of ancient, sacred writings. They searched for themselves. Together all the stories contained the thread that linked yesterday, today, and tomorrow, and created a unified “we.” Thus, the storytellers avoided the pressure to succumb to Saturday Night Fever. Of course, since most people could not afford to pay psychologists, they built conventions and temples, gatherings and common references, hidden gods, languages, and rituals. More or less intuitive, secret, invented, or fleeting, “tied together with wire and a little scotch tape,”33 they imagined themselves in community. The murga upheld the mysticism. It was part of

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the murga of smoke smoke of the eternal coal smoke of the time that passes that passes and turns us to smoke34 Another example of this mystique is found in the murga Lá . . . ,35 a strange part of a performance represented as a murga that was and was not, that existed but did not speak, spoke without words, only to be heard by some. Carnival represented the sacred and thus redefined the profane and the sacrilegious: the world outside of Carnival, the forces that antagonized its participants and the meanings of its rituals.

Toward a Hermeneutics of Carnival: The Seven Faces of Momo The protocols, symbols, and rituals of Christianity and the democratic, consensual state, once the objects of Carnival’s criticism, parody, and burlesque, came to constitute the affirmation of a social and spiritual order that re-created these lost references of congregation. Parody became a form of criticizing the official discourse and asserting an alternative discourse. If there was irony, it was a disguise, a superficial form that did not actually destabilize or disrupt meaning. Instead, this false irony functioned to establish a new meaning and to signal the distance and contradiction between words and deeds. Carnival became the appearance, the excuse, and ultimately the scheme for reconstructing the public sphere and the social congregation needed to transcend the immediacy, isolation, frustration, and anomie characteristic of daily life. Carnival was the new assembly and court, the new ecclesia in the code of the murga. In this sense the murga became the story frame and the hermeneutic protocol through which people could recuperate national culture as well as a role in the social and historical experience of the country. Its words and images became mechanisms for the figurative representation and the resignification of social experience. Thus, the popular imagination constructed a collective existence and historical role in the present context. The totemization of the murga and the communal cult of Momo did not translate into a passive adoption of carnivalesque forms and figures, religion, or other circulating discourses. On the contrary, the available discourses were the objects of selective appropriation, recombination, and resignification. In Uruguay’s Carnival, Momo appears to be the one and only god. With the desire and need to celebrate itself, the community turns to an artifice that invokes the image of a god. By building the totem or

116 / Theology of Carnival fetish and the cultic ritual, the community indirectly imagines, represents, celebrates, remembers itself and establishes its traits and sacred values. Through a social and political process gradually perceived to be profane and immoral, Carnival redefined all that the hegemonic power labeled profane (everything that infringed upon capitalist and authoritarian logic) as sacred — its violation was taboo, a supreme crime. But in the process of Carnival’s inversions and games, ancient beliefs and defeated values were filtered, synthesized, and recoded through a disfiguring, pagan sieve and ultimately invested in a new sacred repository. The inversion was no longer a mere parody. If, as it appears in Carnival, worshipers of Momo also revere God or Christ, then these gods no longer occupy different, opposing planes of tradition, with God and Christ on one level and Momo and the gentiles on another. As discussed below, Dionysus has also infiltrated this mythological fusion or recombination. Once displaced or absorbed by Christian symbolism in the figure of Christ, Dionysus seems to have returned and claimed his place. Thus if Momo at first seems to be a single, unproblematic god, this vision is soon revealed as a mask and Momo can be identified as a god of many heads, a multiplicity of gods, a portrait frame in which the Divine Figure remains liberated by the imagination, a mirror awaiting a face. Based on these visions, Carnival is seen as a deceitful and truculent space where one mask covers another, which covers another, and so on. Such a layered and complex space demands attention and discernment. The notion is at the core of the murgas-murgas, the murgas-pueblo, and the anti-murgas, all of which claim to represent “the true divinity,” “the authentic voice of Carnival’s spirit.” This conflict results in the denunciation of false gods and preachers and the revindication of true gods and preachers. Consequently one asks, what different versions and cults surrounding Momo does Carnival promote? Just as the concepts of divinity, religion, or religious life vary with the current historical circumstances and cultural-symbolic systems, the popular-national and popular-religious symbol of Momo, analyzed in carnivalesque discourses, permits diverse narratives and rituals that sometimes enter into conflict. These various components imply divergent, even antagonistic positions and social attitudes on the part of Momo’s priests as well as his acolytes. I propose, therefore, three main narrative and ritual paradigms, or metanarratives,36 all of which contain the cult of Momo. I have chosen to call these paradigms the cult of the Orthodox Momo, the cult of the Dionysiac Momo and the cult of the Biblical Momo. The last can be further broken down into two narratives: the history of the Absent God, the Wandering Murguista, and the Phoenix Momo, on one hand, and the Eschatological Momo on the other.37

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The Orthodox Momo The Orthodox Momo is a pastoral but somewhat picaresque deity. This Momo celebrates “the Uruguayan edge,” “creole liveliness,” “lost traditions,” “the old glories” of Carnival and soccer.38 This rather administrative divinity sustains, initiates, and concludes39 Carnival in a routinized, “cordial”40 and repetitive mode that launches and dissolves the celebration each year. On such occasions, Momo’s “pirouettes fill the night with fantasy, and all is color and joy.”41 In spite of the jokes42 and burlesque, the Orthodox Momo is a surprisingly obedient god, at times bureaucratic, observing the limits and taboos set by the hegemonic culture (“it should interpret picaresque lyrics without openly offending moral and good customs”43). Boisterous44 and foul-mouthed, even a bit obscene (green) and overly critical, he nevertheless accepts his confinement within the limits and regulations of time, space, and conduct that govern his existence. His reign consists of an interruption of reality and history, a “fleeting celebration.”45 It is a “reign of joy”46 but, ultimately, just a diversion, a moderate transgression from hegemonic norms and morality. By calling attention to his exceptional character,47 Momo’s perversions ratify the hegemonic order and principles of reality. Given Momo’s farcical character as well as the “glorious arrival,” “the triumphal march,” “the triumphal bugle call,” “the triumphal drumming and ringing” and “the triumphal embrace,”48 the murgas evoked with great nostalgia the “adorned night”49 and “the days of laughter and happiness.”50 They reminded participants of their desire for the lost paradise of their old neighborhoods, their childhoods, and the days of balloons, costumes, masks, confetti, and street-corner dances. On the other hand, this Orthodox Momo, who was supposed to make fun of the gods, official heroes, and authorities, often employs a vulgar comic style that capitalizes on fragments sensationalized by the media and the dominant prejudices and values internalized and operant among the viewing public. In general, his comedy is developed at the expense of the cultural other who is denounced, parodied, and taunted. For example, these ceremonies often use profane, ethnic, sexist jokes and the appearances of police officers,51 commissioners, politicians, or other characters that mock and attack any type of “criminal,” “insubordinate” or “deviant.”52 In effect, the Carnival scene often becomes a platform for the official discourse itself or the world of the poorer classes seen from sites of power (like a reign of barbarism and animality53), or perhaps the representations of the exemplary action of power. While these representations may be open to various interpretations and may be about self-parody, the murgas and their public celebrate and seek the favor of official postures.

118 / Theology of Carnival Presenting themselves as supposedly detached from the world of politics, these performances evoke personalities, figures, and archetypes from Carnival’s history,54 Pierrot, Harlequin and Columbine, for example, and reduce them to meaningless icons, manipulated in repetition to give Carnival a particular appearance. In terms of rituals, the cult of Orthodox Momo is subjected to the strict limitations of the Regulation as well as the mid-twentieth-century forms, conventions, and norms believed to be sacred, immutable, unquestionable, and definitive of the “authentic” murgas even though they differ markedly from the original performances of the early 1900s. They are restricted to Carnival’s designated times and places, as well as to the more commercial and profit-seeking sets and stages. The murgas dedicated to Orthodox Momo, therefore, sustain the stages’ fourth and fifth “walls,” which respectively separate the set from the audience and the stage from the street. These representations are characterized by their efforts to comply with authorities, their connections to scandals and denunciations of mafia tactics,55 as well as an economic interest in making the spectacles prize-worthy. The companies pertaining to the Orthodox Momo cult are genuine businesses that rent, buy, and sell everything, including their actors, lyrics, and even the murgas’ names.

The Dionysiac Momo “Child of dreams and the night, of a dark and tranquil cradle,”56 the Dionysiac Momo is a divinity surrounded by satyrs. Carnal in the extreme, desirous and insatiable (“sin is my temple”57), this god is more like the figure of Dionysus described above than Momo. In fact, presenting themselves as “murguista-bacchantes,”58 his acolytes seem to revere Dionysus, the god of sensual and earthly pleasures and desires, rather than Momo. Similar to the appeals of Afro-American rituals and religions (which, for example, in their cults apparently to San Jorge and other saints actually adore Ogún and the orixás), these murguista-bacchantes use the name of Momo but actually refer to Dionysus. Momo enters my body and my body is Him Momo enters my body and I feel fine my head spins my feet shake my ears sharpen and my eyes too59

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This god delights less in burlesque and retrospective imagination than in outrageous, exciting, and sensual experiences. He suggests that all celebrate their bodies, explore their senses, pursue desire, pleasure, and sin, attend to their internal, vital forces, transform their minds, transgress social conventions as well as representative rules “no matter what they say.”60 “They say I am a horny god / but I couldn’t care less / I enjoy the mundane when I can / and I am always in heat.”61 Regarding other Carnival rituals, he claims that they are “old, idiotic, and hypnotic [although] after many hours no one complains.”62 He feels more nostalgia for “yesterday’s daily bread”63 or the physical and sexual vitality of “forty years ago”64 than for the “twinkling star,”65 the “kites of illusion,”66 or “a child’s smile on the lips of a Pierrot,”67 themes that recur in other discourses. Abandoning the set and positioning himself among the people, this Dionysiac Momo and his satyrs re-create the conflict between Eros and Thanatos, between life and death, articulating the principle of “life’s triumph over death.”68 By means of a “game” destined to exhibit his autonomy with respect to human and historical reason, Dionysiac Momo re-creates “the mystery” and magical logic that prove that, even though others try to kill him, “Momo resurrects himself as he pleases.”69 To the question, “Are you a god, a devil or a man? / Momo responds: / What I am is what I do / what I have is what I carry / My Reign does not pertain / To Heaven or Hell.”70 Carnival suddenly becomes a liturgical, Eucharistic, fecund ceremony. Momo inhabits bodies and bodies are transformed into Momo. The chorus of satyrs and bacchantes advances through the audience, nibbling, touching, groping, and literally turning the attendants on their heads,71 a feat interpreted as a sublime and complete experience. Like in the nineteenth-century dances that culminated Afro-Uruguayan rituals, the set is re-created as a dance in which all take part. At the end of the function, nevertheless, the enjoyment of that moment of diversion and pleasure is placed in question. In the cult of Orthodox Momo pleasure is displaced for the promise of a future return, the next Carnival, or the nostalgia of a better past. In the case of Dionysiac Momo, however, the promise of pleasure and abundance remains positioned in a day of “the celebration of final victory / a day of world peace and solidarity,” in which “life triumphs over death / . . . / a day of disguises and jokes for the humble / a day of pain for the most powerful.”72 In terms of the spectacle itself, the cult of Dionysiac Momo harkens back to the nineteenth-century national tradition of Carnival as well as to Asiatic, Greek, Roman, and medieval antiquity. It is characterized by a constant, experimental search that only ignores, denounces, or transgresses conventions and regulations. In its opposition to bureaucratization, the Contest, and Regulations, the spectacles of the Dionysiac

120 / Theology of Carnival Momo cult become the sites of friction between participants and authorities, administrators, or defenders of “traditions.” Those who demand a more explicit connection between Carnival and sociohistorical reality, a more serious and epic discourse, also disapprove of these spectacles and come into direct conflict with its following. Unlike the cult of Orthodox Momo, Dionysiac Momo’s celebrations are manifest in official Carnival sites as well as in other places and times. In the representations of the Dionysiac Momo, the distinctions between stage and audience, between set and viewing area, between performers and viewers, are blurred or eliminated. Thus, the performance contains a series of ruptures, inversions, and alterations. This is the only type of murga in which both men and women participate as protagonists. Without abandoning the emphasis on the music and lyrics, the aspects of choreography, set, and visual or sensual participation that are often deemphasized in other presentations are not neglected here. Penalized or deprecated by juries, attacked by other murguistas and Carnival chiefs, it is an endangered, heretical genre. In spite of these critiques and conflicts, however, all other carnivalesque representations have been influenced and enriched by this effort to return the sensual, lewd, celebratory, hedonistic, and participatory dimension to Carnival. If other displays are remembered for their lyrics, music, or celebrated figures, these “crazybeautiful” dramas are remembered because of the memorable experience that results from taking part in their madness.

The Biblical Momo The third paradigm also pursues the enjoyment of earthly pleasures, but the ceremonies in honor of the Biblical Momo celebrate an explicit connection with sociohistorical reality and a greater seriousness and “epic-ness” in the carnivalesque discourse.73 This paradigm is constructed upon two moments, or narrative poles. The histories of the Absent God, the Wandering Murguista, and the Phoenix Momo form one narrative instant, and Eschatological Momo occupies the other pole. Here, unlike the cult (and natural logic) of the Dionysiac Momo, the mystery of birth, life, death, and resurrection is not self-sustaining or immune to human intervention. The mystery of the Biblical Momo introduces human intervention, its praxis as well as its faith, as well as law or historical contingency as an integral part of its interpretation of social experience. The divine plan thus enters in a relation of interdependence with human existence and history. Consequently it is an inconclusive, open plan. In this sense, the Biblical Momo is a humanized, historicized version of the Dionysiac Momo, and has its parallel in the historical intervention of the very “incarnated spirit” of the Judeo-Christian narrative.

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Within this paradigm, therefore, the Wandering Murguista, the Phoenix Momo, and the Eschatological Momo all respond to historical logic. In an early moment, the narrative of the Absent God represents the impossibility of enjoyment, the defeat of the god of pleasure, the need to make an imaginary possibility and a moral law, a sensual and tangible reality. This is dramatized in the presence of the Wandering Murguista, who is subjected to the vicissitudes and contingencies of historical, earthly, and political reason. The celebration and cult of the Biblical Momo is the celebration of an Absent God, counterbalanced with the presence, desire, and longing of the Wandering Murguista. The latter yearns to embody an improved, more efficient version of the divine desire and plan; a version that does not fail and ends in crucifixion, as occurred in the original version: I am a rebel because man made me so he has taken away the illusion of happiness I have pleaded so much without finding God I would like to be that child who lit the star of Bethlehem I would like to be a baby Jesus who does not end up on the cross because he was able to love.74 This Momo tends to become not Dionysus but, in some way, the JudeoChristian God, a figure that attempts to condense the human values and desires produced throughout history. Given the absence, death, or denial of Momo, his only memory and manifestation are the murguistas themselves. While the Dionysiac Momo brings life and pleasure, the Absent God is not resurrected at his whim but, on the contrary, must be invoked, revived, and constructed if necessary. The imagination of “his reign” is the “work and grace of the people’s song,”75 but his return is possible only through conscious struggle to that end. The annual ritual of Carnival operates as an instance devoted to help people remember the epic of Momo and grapple with the practical and instrumental aspects that affect their possibility to imagine and above all materialize the divine desire. These ceremonies distance themselves from other celebrations that exhibit joy, ebullience, sensual licentiousness, games, and general revelry. Winds of tragedy that come to us hurricane-like, gray and stormy O! Fatal oracle! Man struggles to elevate the groaning world Worse than the fate of Antigone

122 / Theology of Carnival more torment than Oedipus would withstand humanity ambles along the roads under a forest of cries and laments, man in chains76 Confusion and alienation frame a spectacle predominated by seriousness and the denunciation of social reality in a form much more caustic than the critiques and parodies of other representations. Two characters talk at the beginning of the piece: And what are we going to do? I don’t know. . . . But today is Carnival! And what does that matter to me . . . it’s my soul that doesn’t respond, it’s my pain. . . . Where did the laughter go? our laughter!77 The “false laughter,” the laughter that “honors betrayal,”78 the “painted faces,”79 the celebration of lies, all are rejected, “exiling false emotions and the ‘la-la-la’, the fleeting kiss, the mask of faith.”80 The murguista, who is expected to deliver the promised reign, blames himself: I am that old murguista with my face painted the one who dreamed life between happy guffaws I am that buffoon you seek he who has lost laughter the one you always ask to smile and you demand that I laugh? that the show go on? for this I am a murguero I must fulfill my mission. But tonight I ask that you forget the clown and let me be a man so that I can mourn my failure.81 This time, the farce takes on a negative meaning, understood as a trick orchestrated by a macabre and perverse puppeteer who “makes them go out and paint their faces”: “The circus of life draws for us smiles that do not exist.”82 The murga wants “us to find the lost smile”83 but does

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not concoct the farce merely to make people smile. Simple burlesque and comedy are criticized as repetitive and in poor taste. Worse still, they are criticized for taking the place of true laughter: Of course I want joy! lasting joy! joy for a long time not just the occasional guffaw! I want to keep on laughing! to laugh without stopping and never again suffer when they take down the stage!84 Finally, in the “murguera mass in honor of Momo,” the chorus of acolytes asks Momo to “leave the world of shadows, rise up, and walk among men.”85 Invoked and constructed through the word and ritual of Carnival, Momo (Absent) retrieves life in the people. The invocation gives birth to a camouflaged divinity, the Phoenix Momo, who rises up from the ashes and joins the people as a traveling companion who stimulates, guides, and gives value. He appears, “hidden during rehearsal, paints his face, puts on worn and dirty shoes and goes out to march with the parade.”86 The Phoenix Momo remains embodied, confused, and multiplied throughout the Peregrine or Wandering Murga, whose pilgrimage becomes a passage through the defeat that paved the way for the Exodus of the Uruguayan people. The central and constructivist87 role of the Wandering Murga articulated the call for the “fabrication of destiny,”88 the construction of the nation, and Momo’s new church. This ecclesiastic genesis is understood as a participatory, nonhierarchical, and collective task of which the murga is the fundamental base, the rock, represented as simple, homemade, and personal machinery in which all participate.89 It is a church of pilgrims who build the reign of an Absent God. The true Momo may be dead, but “the murga speaks for him,”90 and “he will be reborn only in a new world of peace, love, and liberty.”91 Searchers must look for this lost god in “the soil, in man, in the seed and the bread of our brothers, in love, in the hands with no owner.”92 The set becomes a sacrificial space in which the life and death of the murguistas are at play: “[the murga] leaves life on each stage”;93 “With each new song, life goes on”;94 “What do they want from us? / when will they be sated? / only when our blood / runs through these sets?”95 At this point we are very far from what is traditionally understood as carnivalesque and much closer to the ceremonies of the catacombs: “Rise and take up the songs / come and we will seek the reasons / together we’ll

124 / Theology of Carnival go, hand in hand. . . . ”96 The murga is redefined as “the companion / of a people who construct / their true path.”97 At a second moment, the cult of the Eschatological Momo presents an interpretation of history from the privileged, imaginary perspective of the End of the struggle, the arrival at the Promised Land. Here “the truth”98 is revealed, in which the material death is incorporated and reigns: “Murga / The People’s Queen / if its People rule / which is its hope.”99 Now the murga is personified as a triumphant collective that has transformed into a divine presence. “[She] comes back from hard, cold silences, returns! / suffers, shouts and smiles with her people, always! / with each new song she risks her life, fights! / from the introduction to the farewell, listen! . . . ”100 True celebration is announced in these circumstances, ending the diaspora: Pain’s Funeral of pain. The murga adopts a monumental, eschatological stature that is arisen from “the Depths of Time.”101 Represented throughout this murga in all his glory, the Eschatological Momo demonstrates his greatest capacities and powers as the people, singing on the stages. The murga elevates its “immortal cry.” The child of a dark and tranquil cradle is now an omniscient being who sees everything and is feared by “misters and fools alike.”102 Boasting of lycanthropic capacities, this Momo is transfigured into and speaks like an oracle, a statesman, a teacher in the minstrel show that r-ecreates the history of his people: “The murga comes back / returning to write history . . . Let’s listen in silence / and he will tell us the history / of my people’s general / who left us his memories / we’ll travel through time / until we meet him / it could be anywhere / but he will always come back / 1811 / Elío, the Spanish and Buenos Aires / signed the armistice of October . . . ”103 The memory of “the adorned night” or “yesterday’s daily bread” is substituted by the memory of “the examples of ancestry” / [where] “looking to the past, I see my brothers / following Bolívar, an American / the Patria Vieja as Don Gervasio [Artigas] dressed her for celebration.”104 National history displaces the history of Carnival and the joyous celebration focuses on historical issues that the reunited collectivity deems important. People prefer to discuss such topics as: the indigenous people’s resistance before the conquistadors; the nineteenth-century wars of independence; the continent’s liberation from colonialism; the defense against the British invasions of 1807; the gaucho’s resistance to the “civilizing” campaign with its urban origins; the artiguista revolution; the 1825 liberating crusade against Brazil; the educational reform of 1875 inspired by Varela; the reformism of José Batlle y Ordóñez and his followers; the uprisings of the rural chiefs Apau, Saravia, and Leandro Gómez; the emergence of Uruguayan socialism, the Broad Front; and the na-

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tional, democratic, and popular struggle against the military dictatorship. All of these topics are described in romantic, epic styles.105 The Eschatological Momo is thus a deity transformed into historical memory, a review of the culture, values, characters, and institutions in which the collective takes enormous pride. Constituted as a body of indisputable morality, the deity garners the status of Law. In this sense, he is a type of Moses who comes to carry the people to the Gates of the Promised Land, records the law of the people, destroys deified fetishes, and settles the score with the people’s enemies. He is also the indignant Jesus who erupts with ire and fury in the market and the temple, or the glorious Christ of medieval panels who returns on Judgment Day to judge all, to save some and condemn others. If he transcends the principle of reality in this case, he does so to situate himself in the Aleph of the End of Time. The Eschatological Momo, finally, is the representation of a multitude. The murgas cover a spatial and temporal globalization organized around a march toward reconquest and exodus, a march that stops only before the walls of the lettered city, the neocolonial enclave. The space of Carnival becomes a constellation of rural banquets whose priests and scribes are transformed into prophets and pastors of Momo’s reign. The murgas’ arrival or passage through the street stages, with news from other stages and faraway places, produces imaginary and sensual experiences of cosmic repercussions. The retiradas once again globalize the experience by reminding viewers of people’s ancestral, millenarian struggles for justice and liberation: “Right now from the torrent / exact / turbulent / enraged / the arteries of all parts converge in the vine and the camalote / enormous / swollen / the warm tributaries let forth their waters / like in times past when they plotted heroics upon the intruder / history will be repeated and there will be glory. . . . ”106 On the plane of spectacle, the ritual celebrating this Biblical Momo, who is defeated, incorporated into history, militant, and finally triumphant, does not limit itself to the spaces and times dedicated only to Carnival. “[T]he murga is our life / we paint our faces for you all year long . . . [t]he four seasons will be seasons of Carnival.”107 Nor does it establish a separation between carnivalesque spectacles and the spectacular experiences of resistance and contemporary sociohistorical struggles. On the contrary, these representations frequently circulate and emerge in all types of social and political events. The circulation of cassettes, records, and televised broadcasts in turn multiply Carnival’s spaces and moments. This cult is extroverted, turned outward to conquer and to construct the City of Momo by producing a new vision of the world in conflict with the hegemonic spatial-temporal order.

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The Insanity of Carnival: The Inversion of the World Turned Upside Down Neoliberal technocratic arguments, the paranoid justifications of authoritarianism, the insufficiencies of explanatory paradigms of social experiences and life as totality, the erosion of the indispensable framework of ethics, and the violation of that which society deems sacred all have fortified once minor or obsolete discourses, including religious discourses. A crystallized sedimentation of successive pagan, Christian, and civic rituals and mythologies, Carnival absorbs the toxins and residues of the civilizing process, filtering them through a religion of jokes and ridicule before returning them to circulation. Like the varied forces that struggle to create a popular and democratic national society, Carnival’s discourse may be understood as an attempt (neither complete nor completely radical) to synthesize diverse projects and discourses into new elaborations of the national experience and its meanings. Carnival adopts the role of a civic religion constituted by the discourses, icons, and values that other agencies place in circulation. Through its own hermeneutic and composite logic, Carnival’s discourse combines and reformulates those other discourses, secularizing, adapting and applying them to circumstances and the operant ethical, aesthetic, and political interests. In the context of ethical and cultural debacles, profanities, violations of taboos, and supreme crimes occasioned by the military dictatorship, Carnival’s world turned upside down was nothing more than the reaffirmation, in a disguise of popular religion, of all that had been suppressed by power but still venerated by society. In Carnival’s hidden religion we find that its representations played a constructive role by restoring the sacred (the people congregated, popular sovereignty, democratic national traditions) and reinstating the public spaces, bodies, voices, memories, values, and utopias beaten down by neoliberal culture. The discussion of Carnival’s hidden religion, visible on a second level, is not intended to justify or condemn that religion. Rather, the argument proposes a certain reading of Carnival, a reflection that partially highlights the affirmative role of carnivalesque representations in preserving the values and utopias that were forgotten, tossed aside, or destroyed in the process of capitalist restructuring. Carnival traditionally functioned to create integration, homeostasis, and catharsis by permitting controlled dissension in order to later restore normalcy. Since time immemorial, it was perceived as complementary to the state as well as the church. In the period under consideration here, however, Carnival became a space of true questioning; it went beyond the permissible and beyond the point of restoring the normalcy perceived to

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be outside of carnivalesque derangement. Consequently, the competition between the two paradigms of reality and the sacred emerged and even carried its participants to a point where the insanity of Carnival, the world affirmed on the street stages, came to be a reasonable, correct, and desirable one. Nevertheless, this civic religion was not a sole community with one god, but a polytheistic, schizophrenic cult devoted to different, antagonistic gods. It reflected the coexistence of multiple discourses with contradictory meanings, use values, practical aspects, symbols, and aesthetics. This religion also reveals obstacles and absences that are unacceptable today and that must have contributed to its recent exhaustion as a politically relevant aesthetic practice. Notable among these deficiencies is the lack of women and young people as both protagonists in the murgas or as the sources of the murgas’ stories, themes, and expressive codes. Finally, understood as a ritual space of discursive proposals and conflictive practices, Carnival’s discourse can be read to help us discern among Arcadian, utopian, counter-utopian, and distopian discourses. If this religion’s integrating function can be used to legitimate and stabilize social organization while sublimating contradictions, in other words, to implement a neoliberal hegemony, it can also be used to destabilize the symbolic universe. It can contribute to the real and imagined construction of a counter-hegemonic culture based in popular and democratic sensibilities, values, and logic. Therefore, the latent world visions and utopian ideals of Carnival are of great interest. A utopian imagination can be reduced to a state of inconsequence or analgesic fantasy when it lacks the support of a liberating rationale or the correlate of a collective praxis of effective transformation. Without utopias, ethical support, or prospective imagination, daily life would be reduced to a puppet show, a sequence of inhuman, alienated, and merely functional actions.

– Four –

Bodies, Costumes, and Characters The circus of life draws false smiles, smiles that we are forced to paint on our faces. — “Greeting: Who took away our laughter?” Araca la Cana, 1988

Human Rights and the Carnival Stage One of the greatest aspects of the murgas’ recent history is their association with the struggle for human rights. Notwithstanding some omissions and contradictions, including a few that are profound and grotesque, the murgas have become principal contributors to the affirmation, promotion, and defense of human rights in Uruguay. In their forms of expression, communication, and education, the murgas’ mechanism of enunciation is a particularly accessible and apt instrument for promoting human rights. The murgas’ themes reflect an increasing concern for human rights, and they have adopted certain techniques to promote these themes in their work. In addition, institutions such as the Popular Education Team of the Peace and Justice Service (SERPAJ), an ecumenical institution dedicated to the promotion and defense of human rights, have initiated collaborative projects with the murgas. The most notable moments of the murgas’ recent history coincided with a series of ethical and political conflicts rooted in issues of social justice, dignity, and human rights. Examples of these conflicts are the cases of the resistance and struggle against the civil-military regime, which would end in 1989 with the formal restoration of civil and political rights; the political process surrounding the collection of signatures (1987–88) and the plebiscite (1989) on how to proceed with regard to all those that violated human rights during the dictatorship; and the first truly free local and national elections after the dictatorship (1989), which demonstrated the possibility of legalizing and achieving human rights in social, economic, and cultural arenas through the relative increase in the left’s political power. 128

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The conceptualization of human rights is key to understanding its relationship with Carnival. As discussed below, human rights are based upon the moral values, laws, and norms of coexistence necessary for all the individuals of a society, by birthright, to be considered persons. This demands the unquestionable recognition that all human beings possess a conscience endowed with memory, values, the capacity to discern, evaluate a situation, and plan for a future, all as a result of an individual will that is motivated and supported by one’s community. In turn, individuals are motivated to contribute to the well-being of their community. Consequently the community is obligated to sustain the accessibility of its spaces and cultural instruments for all individual members. Indeed, the community expects and hopes that the individual will access and use these spaces and tools while re-creating and modifying them for personal and collective growth. In social and existential movements throughout history, human beings develop the conscience, habits, and conducts that define them as persons, demanding for themselves and others the conditions to support that humanity. In accord with international laws of human rights every person has protections, abilities, and obligations.1 Human rights have emerged in a historical process and in reaction to the alienations and privations administered by all civilizations and cultural models. They were created in part to reject the primitive expropriation, oppression, prohibition, and limitation of access to certain spaces and goods controlled by powerful individuals, groups, and social sectors. These barriers and proscriptions imply that disempowered individuals and groups cannot enjoy privileges that should be extended to all people. Thus power denies status and dignity to entire groups, reducing them to entire sectors of nonpersons. The diverse set of privileges and obligations understood as human rights has expanded or contracted in direct relation to historical dynamics. They are a product of the historical struggle, conquests made by certain social groups and peoples in a struggle to reclaim, defend, or augment their threatened rights, powers, respect, and dignity. In effect, human rights are the result of a negotiation or relation of force in which certain parts recognize or deny the rights of others. Certain social sectors request, impose, or concede certain rights to other sectors according to the power of negotiation, the capacity to pressure, and the response of the contentious sectors. The history of human rights is the passage from the nonexistence of rights, a situation “suddenly” discovered and conceptualized as oppressive, unnecessary, and unjust, toward imagining and calling for the end of this situation. Often the journey is marked by wars and revolutions that result in laws and constitutions that specifically promote rights, demanding their concrete and verifiable existence in the daily lives of all

130 / Bodies, Costumes, and Characters people. Thus, today’s concept of human rights as first specified in the United Nations’ Universal Declaration of Human Rights (1948) is a result of many historical legal documents: the Magna Carta of 1215, the U.S. Declaration of Independence of 1776, the U.S. Constitution of 1787, the Declaration of the Rights of Men and Citizens that resulted from the French Revolution of 1789, the 1917 Constitution constructed at the end of the Mexican Revolution, and the 1918 Constitution that followed the Soviet Revolution. The Geneva convention following World War II, containing the fundamental norms governing armed conflicts (and seeking to prevent the barbarities generally committed during all armed conflicts) constitutes a new chapter in this history. New documents, norms, and treaties have been produced in response to the Vietnam War, “the dirty wars,” the systematic use of torture, the “disappearings” of Central and South America’s all too recent history, the rampant systematic violations of the international capitalist political economy including massive layoffs and the exclusion and containment of the poor, the victims of what the magazine Newsweek termed “savage capitalism” and its “corporate killers.”2 The history of the human rights discourse, being reactive and above all historical, is a continuous process that seeks to respond to each act of war, repression, and discrimination, and naturally extends itself to the present. As different eras invite different endangered rights into the discourse, diverse classes or generations of rights evolve. The array includes civil, political, social, economic, cultural rights, rights of self-determination, sovereignty of the people, women, children, etc. Nevertheless, the history is not predetermined, linear, progressive, or homogeneous. There are moments of stagnancy and even recession in which previously fought and won battles for rights are lost at real, legal, and imaginary levels. In these moments, respect, human dignity, and the value of dignity itself are lost. If at one time human rights were considered a mode of protecting the individual before the state, society, or civilization, they are now seen as the responsibilities of civilization, states, organizations of states (the U.N.), and society (in the form of political parties, nongovernmental organizations, civic organizations) for individuals. The responsible entities are thus obliged to guarantee, protect, and punish the violations of such human rights. Nevertheless, human rights as they appear in public and political discourses, in universal treatises, international pacts, and accords and constitutions are generally nonexistent in reality. Since the implementation of written documents remains suspended and largely ignored by political powers, individuals and groups continue to struggle for the

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recognition of human rights not only in the plane of words, fantasies, and papers, but also in the spheres of social spaces and real, everyday life. Given the political crisis afflicting the traditional political parties, the specificity of each human right listed in the declaration serves as an objective for social and political mobilization, even if at times these social movements reveal an a la carte approach that parcels out, divides, cuts, and reduces the privileges of the individual to a single dimension, issue, or theme. Certain human rights movements and organizations, however, do not take this piecemeal approach. SERPAJ bases its militant standpoint, appropriately, on the unity and indivisibility of human rights and the integrity of persons. As a result, such groups demand respect for human rights in a total, complete form. Like people, they argue, human rights can be approached only holistically. A person cannot be treated with respect in one aspect and with harm in another without causing harm to the person as a unit. The effective achievement of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights and its thirty articles, as well as the successive declarations that followed, implied a utopia, a true and radical revolution of politics, economics, society, and culture. With a theatrical metaphor, we can propose that the vital space of human rights — the international values and laws written in the constitutions, accords, and conventions of the United Nations — is actually an unreal, imaginary, and fantastic space, a utopian and inverted space, a Carnival stage displaying the realization of a desired coexistence. Symmetrically, the Carnival stage can also be seen as a space in which the human being truly appears, a space/time in which individual rights are spoken, celebrated, and respected. On this majestic, exciting, and gratifying set, beings who are often denied their dignity and rights in real life become invested with human capacities: their dignity and their personality. The space/time of Carnival becomes a dramatization of that fantastic, poetic space in which life is portrayed as it should be, as if the documents and international pacts of human rights work had been indoctrinated. The Carnival of dreams speaks to us of dignities Of happy peoples enjoying their liberties.3 Rise and take up these songs come, together we will seek the reasons together we will go hand in hand today is the day I call you my brother4

132 / Bodies, Costumes, and Characters Converted into a utopian space-time, the representation of a world turned upside down, and thus carnivalesque in the best sense of the word, “the here and now” of the stage is a space of dignity, happiness, liberty, fraternity, equality, and reason. On the stage society and political powers are judged for irrationality, a lack of respect, and the failure to make universal values and laws effective, even if these values and laws do not preside over real, everyday life. Given the failure or the inexistence of these norms of basic living, that is, human rights, all humanity loses its dignity and rationality, becomes depersonalized and bestialized. Carnival, the space of momentary and twinkling manifestations of a humanist rationale, looks to “the world outside of Carnival” — the shadows around the lit stage / the night after Carnival ends . . . like a savage, inhumane world, lacking value, sparing goods or pleasures for the people, with the appearance of rationality and morality, “a sleeping country, drugged by a watered-down humanism.”5 In contrast with that exterior world, the straight or right-side-up world, Carnival is offered as a space of rights and values, a model for building an order inverse to the current reality. As a space of dreams but also one in which participants are truly awake and producing their own meanings, Carnival becomes the place where imagined, desired, and narrated tales and fables are made concrete. I was dreaming and awake how can I accomplish the creation of this story, a story that is more truth than fiction? Let’s imagine a book, for example . . . Carnival How do you get to the murga? What course should you take? Little by little the fable becomes reality . . . We must narrate the story of this world if we act it out the threads will break . . . Carnival.6

Dictatorship and Human Rights The history of Carnival is partially associated with an interest in exercising and celebrating certain rights and civil liberties (equality, the right

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to assemble, and the right to free speech) as well as constructing and transforming society and history, that is, at least in a transitory form or as a symbolic gesture. In the past, the murgas were the medium through which the poor, unorganized classes sought to “exercise their right to criticism,” to be equal for at least a while, to express themselves, to formulate opinions, to influence and pressure. To these ends they created a space that needed to be “homogeneous,” “undifferentiated,” and “their own” (within the farce in representation). Expressions would circulate fundamentally in local, horizontal planes; at the workplace, bar, club, neighborhood, among family, coworkers, friends, neighbors, and the world of the Carnival. These expressions were limited, however, in their outreach and thus had little political gravity. By the late 1960s, the murgas moved beyond their demands for “some” rights for “some period of time.” Echoing the discourses of the growing oppositional social and political forces of the period, the murgas began to call for recognition of the complete aggregate of human rights during and beyond the period of Carnival. Thus Carnival began to yield to a more profound transformation of society and the national culture. Other organized social, cultural, and political agencies also promoted this shift. While social, economic and cultural rights were universally sanctioned in 1966, the violation of these rights was common practice in Uruguay. Accustomed to transgressions, most people rarely demanded total respect for their rights as humans. Even worse, the small number of recognized civil and political rights decreased throughout the 1960s. Between 1968 and 1973, the situation was notably and rapidly exacerbated in civil and political contexts as well as on economic, social, and cultural planes with the rise of militarism and the coup of 1973. But the “process of restructuring,” with its militaristic, dictatorial, and neoliberal character, involved an even greater degree of human rights violations. This increase is blatant during the process of capitalist restructuring, yet its profound effects are more notable in the decades that followed. If humanity is measured in terms of norms of coexistence and the respect for individual rights, the absence and violation of such rights suppose a subhuman state. The dictatorship’s acts of repression and human rights violations, systematically denying the status of persons to human beings at all levels, reached barbarous and savage extremes. Paradoxically, although human rights are not classified as “more” or “less” important (the thirty articles of the Declaration exist on the same plane of value and priority, and form an indivisible unity), Uruguay’s citizens then seemed to be more “terrified” by the absence of their civil and political rights than by the violation of their social, economic, and cultural human rights. That is, the citizenry was particularly terrorized by governmental restrictions against free assembly and speech, collective

134 / Bodies, Costumes, and Characters organization, and political participation as well as by arrests, kidnappings, rape, torture, murder, and disappearances. While the government most frequently and forcefully struck out against the active and central members of leftist social, cultural, and political organizations with repressive measures, such measures affected the entire society. Simultaneously, vigilance, proscriptions, raids, arrests, threats, and exemplary punishments were intended to create an environment of terror and diffuse the idea that enemies were all around, “in disguise.” Consequently, a sensibility and a movement in favor of human rights emerged in this environment of civil and political disquiet. Naturally, Carnival was the ideal space to be in disguise, and many used it as a space to promote respect for human rights and to denounce violations. The dictatorship could not completely suppress Carnival, and Uruguayan society witnessed a basic tension between the state and the space/time of Carnival, that time when, due to tradition, the poorer classes, as obedient as they may be, take the opportunity and are “obliged” to assemble, speak out, and criticize at least once a year. The issue of human rights was accentuated within Carnival, where merely participating in the murgas or attending the spectacle were forms of reunion and critical expressions. This ability to speak out and convene implied a partial restoration of personhood. Furthermore, these murgas allowed participants to satirize and ridicule the very censors and vigilantes who threatened their rights. The genre’s tradition of reviewing the events of the year also generated forms of understanding social and historical experiences that were alternative to the interpretations put forth by the dictatorship. Little by little Carnival’s participants were challenging the prohibitions, limitations, and rules imposed by the dictatorship. In more or less ingenuous forms, they denounced the absence, erosion, and violations of human rights. The dictatorship reacted in diverse ways. Generally, the government attempted to keep Carnival under its control, instilled a fear of reprisals among participants, prohibited the appearance or participation of certain key individuals (in many cases, arresting and punishing such individuals) and censoring all that was potentially antagonistic, mobilizing, or subversive. Out of fear, people were overcome by inhibition, extreme caution, and self-censorship. Finally the military government tried to win supporters among the ranks of Carnival by reorienting the celebration in its own favor and support. In spite of all of this, however, throughout the 1980s the murgas’ solidarity and criticisms, consciously reinforced with consistency, breadth, and incisiveness and intended to mine and transgress the poetics and the regime of the suspension of rights, maximized the political conflict and drove society’s tolerance of the dictatorship to “a point of no return.”

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In the beginning the murgas focused their efforts on the revindication of the rights to life and liberty. Later, they stressed the rights of civil and political life and consequently the return to democracy, the cessation of detentions, torture, and censorship, the liberation of political prisoners, the appearance of the disappeared, the return of exiles, and the legalization and liberalization of social, political, and cultural activity in general. Other economic and social claims, equally fundamental for a life of dignity, were added as people worked for equal rights in workplaces and with respect to salaries, social benefits, housing, food, health, education, access to cultural goods, social security, etc. Individuals and groups aggregated these claims through emerging social organizations dedicated to specific issues, including authorized or clandestine parties, syndicates, soup kitchens, shelters, housing cooperatives, artists’ groups, student organizations, women’s organizations, and caucuses working to build clinics, schools, or neighborhood day care facilities. Henceforth Carnival stages became one of the principal spheres of articulation for these agencies and their respective claims, and vice versa: the carnivalesque mode of speaking and theatrical genres moved beyond Carnival space/time. Just as social movements adopted the forms, appearances, and spirit of Carnival, so too the murguistas and other creators and participants allied themselves solidly with these movements. Carnival was not only an isolated discourse and cultural phenomenon of the summer, but a continuous symbolic practice and accompanist of the country’s social and cultural life: In winter many rest but the reina de la Teja continues to play her happy song, fully engaged in pursuit of solidarity In clinics, union halls, schools, clubs, and throughout the country she marches on, carrying only hope, struggle, and love7 The situation at Carnival was a microcosm of the entire society, its discourse impregnated with the diverse discourses, sensibilities, and gestures that circulated throughout the popular public sphere. The changes made during Carnival reflected nascent social transformations, and Carnival became a symbol of change itself and the demand for reforms, most specifically the protection of threatened human rights. “¡Cuánto queda por hacer!” (“How much remains to be done!”), sang Jaime Roos and the “Canario” Luna in their performances of Raúl Castro’s song “Que el letrista no se olvide” (Let the lyricist not forget), the celebrated hymn

136 / Bodies, Costumes, and Characters of the lyricists’ burden. The lyricist’s responsibility is, as the song goes, to forget nothing, to leave no stone unturned, to overlook none of the problems or issues that affect the popular classes: The lyricist must not forget Gamero’s verses, to take a drink and toast his health . . . The lyricist must not forget the rising cost of the bus fare to sit by the window and to live reality The lyricist must not forget Basáñez’s fans,8 those labeled partial by the journalists The lyricist must not forget the groups of friends who go from bar to bar all night carpeting the city The lyricist must not forget the thousands who hang political posters and who have spent more than a night in some jail The lyricist must not forget early Monday mornings when the true macho wakes up without a word The lyricist must not forget the men in ties who always wanted to be murguistas and did not go to rehearse The lyricist must not forget the mothers of the Pereira Hospital who remember the sadness of the insane locked up at the Millán hospital9 . . . The lyricist must not forget to play the lottery to see if he can straighten himself out

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and dedicate himself to writing the lyrics of the murga before a plate of stew and treat all to a drink in honor of Carnival The lyricist must not forget to take off his mask look in the mirror and paint on a large tear . . . The lyricist must not forget to stay close to the old man listen to the rebel and refuse to obey . . . Leave nothing unsaid dry the inkwell what is left to do what remains to be done The lyricist . . . Maximum Bet!10 The lyricist must not forget how much remains to be done! This new significance of the murga was a product not only of external elements, but also of the elements and mechanisms of the form itself. If popular music became the voice of the people and concerts became popular assemblies, the murga combined these elements in its representations. In addition, the murgas deploy and support theatrical elements that dramatize the absence and the possibility of human rights, provide a space for people’s participation as a collective citizenry, and articulate the demand for dignity and humanity in the savage world outside of Carnival. As a result, many of the murgas’ techniques and symbolic meanings are revitalized by a number of tensions: between the disregard and the demand for human rights; desire and emptiness or neglect, represented by the celebration and its end, respectively; popular dreams and the failure of those dreams within reality; arrival and retirada, or withdrawal; triumph and defeat; assembly and dispersal, dismemberment, or disappearance of the social body; expression and silence; the moment of personification or dignity and the return to an inhumane world; the conscious and the unconscious; between the displays of grand emotions or increased sensitivity and emotional barrenness, insensitivity, or lack of affect; movement and paralysis; grandiose costumes and deteriorated

138 / Bodies, Costumes, and Characters bodies; painted smiles or gestures of happiness and the exhaustion or sadness of faces in their everyday lives.

Person, Mask, Farce: Baroque Carnival If we understand human rights as a repertoire of capacities available for the use and enjoyment of all people, then these capacities can be understood as masks or vestments that, when donned, become meaningful and provide access to certain goods, pleasures, and options. The wearer of the mask or costume thus becomes invested with the rights, abilities, and capacities of a person. Through use of the traits, appearances, values, conducts, attitudes, and gestures attributed to a person, an individual acquires humanity and personhood. The same is true in the personification of animals in cartoons. Conversely, dehumanization implies the removal of the appearances, gestures, abilities, and capacities of a person and the application of those of animals or plants. In effect, while the notion of “person” corresponds to the discourse of human rights, it is simultaneously a term taken from the vocabulary of theater. In a dramatic work, “person” is a concept that signifies a mask or character. It is the role that actors assume to display their intentionality, for themselves as well as the social or dramatic context in which they perform. It is a dramatic resource through which the actors try to give life to an imagined character. In doing so, they don a fictitious appearance or life, the “mask” that they wear to create a specific character. When they put on a particular mask within a particular plot, actors are invested with and thus committed to certain gestures, concerns, diction, and behaviors. An actor with the mask of a king will be able to say certain important items, cite philosophers, make reference to past battles, dissertate on the logic of power, discuss the destiny of the nation, make historical or ethical judgments, and ponder human existence. Actors with the mask of a servant in a comedy will not have this ability. Instead, they will clumsily commit travesties, investigate appearances’ opposites, criticize their master, make jokes, and talk with the public in the intimate tone of an equal. A character-mask can add masks, putting them on over the first mask. Therefore, the actor reflects the ability to replicate, channel, or pose as other characters by donning other gestures and abilities. Such is the case with the masks of the commedia dell’arte and with the murguistas who simultaneously perform multiple roles while acting as Murga-Queen, Pierrot-King, or in the company of farcical statesmen and prophets. The mask can be accepted as real, in which case its wearer functions in society exactly as the mask indicates. Or viewers can see the mask as part of a

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farce, recognizing contradictions between the mask and the body, reality and desire, the one wearing the costume and the (in)vested person. In a picaresque use of the mask (one that is also related to politics and mass communication), the farce can function as a form of deceit. Handled with ingenuity and prudence, the farce is a means for performers and participants to acquire certain goods and privileges but only when it passes as reality within certain contexts, that is, before certain viewers. Since it is only a farce, and recognized as such, the capacities invested via its masks are operative and valid within the realm of illusion, comedy, and the stage. They do not have the same function or validity within the world of real social experiences, where they are no more than performance, theater, Carnival. However, the farce and theater recognized as such can have various social functions. Drama can be used as a free, magical, or imaginary space where almost anything is possible and where nonpersons, those denied the status of full personhood, can imagine and experience what it is to be a person. In the farce, they play the roles of others who possess and have access to the spaces, goods, roles and privileges produced throughout the history of humanity. The greeting of the Anti-murga BCG expresses this masquerade: “nosotros somos quien somos pero ustedes ven a otros” (we are who we are but you see others). In spite of the apparently inoffensive and insignificant character of the farce, the actors can evoke in their audience the temptation to transform the farce into reality. They can also avail themselves of the masking, the costume, the ability to personify and incorporate another. In sum, they make use of the theater, its unstable and transitory nature, to affect reality without hiding their mask(s) and without necessarily needing to pass as real. Finally, the farce also can function as an instance of imagining what is not yet real, what should be or one day will be real. This gives the farce its provisory, prophetic, and changing nature. It is and is not; it will be true; it is not so false; it will no longer be merely farce. Witness, for example, the farce of a caterpillar “dressed as a butterfly” or children playing in the roles of parents or teachers. The farce is unstable and transitory. While it is merely a farce for those who are unaware of the latent process of metamorphosis, for those familiar with metamorphosis it is not a farce but the truth that will in time be reality. The conceptualization of human rights as masks/capacities, accessible only through the farce and the donning of masks, can evoke sensibilities that are merely picaresque (opportunist), baroque (ornamental), or escapist (seeking refuge through pretense and fantasy). But this definition also interprets Carnival as a moment for the production of values, the affirmation and experience of human rights, the projection of a future in which the farce becomes sociopolitical reality; values, claims,

140 / Bodies, Costumes, and Characters and projections made by persons who otherwise would not be considered valid interlocutors or contributors outside of the artistic space of Carnival, without “the authority” of their costumes. In the following example, the magic of Carnival bequeaths myriad capacities to a young boy. He inherits free access to different social positions, the ability to speak his conscience and articulate his place, his role, his tasks and obstacles, the status of social and political interpreter, and the roles of historian, prophet, witness, judge, jury, statesman, and poet: Boy Why is it that when the murga appears I think that I am grown, I dream of directing it and traveling every inch of my country? I have imagined every inch . . . , and why not know each one! Murga is communication and culture, how one learns. Many voices were silent when the storm came, but not the murga, never. And my father with my mother, my friends’ parents all agree that the murga is passage. And so on to don costumes and produce the destiny, the cruel destiny of peoples exploited for centuries. We have to transform it for ourselves, the new men, because the workers’ children will never remain silent all together walking to the sounds of bells, Uruguayans united, builders of tomorrow.11 By taking part in Carnival, wearing costumes and masks and talking in secret, the murguistas in their chorus try to represent the social macrocosm of the nation. Figuratively and momentarily, the murga participants’ society becomes invested with qualities that they usually do not enjoy: the qualities of a human collective, certain capacities, abilities, options, and tasks. Carnival becomes a space where they have agency, and where their humanity, dignity, sanity, and voice are restored. The relationship between bodies, masks, and vestments permits a series of symbolic and dramatic operations unavailable in everyday life, through which incapacitated bodies acquire the ability to present, appear, and speak using the body (the costume) of another, or conversely, to show or put on one body, the testimonial, symbolic, or generic body, to represent an absent other. The murga supports these resources and appears as the Great Mask / The Voice, the mask of no one and everyone (“it represents all of us and no one”12) depending on the occasion, the ones present or those who are absent.

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When the murgas transcend the limits and official expectations of what Carnival should be (a reaffirming and cathartic space) as well as the character of merchandise imposed by the capitalist circuit upon all cultural production, this symbolic and figurative act transcends the territory of the farce to become one of demands, of attack upon the farce of life and of promotion of a nonfarcical ethic. Hence Carnival allows us to imagine a change of status from nonperson to person and promotes the sensibilities and emotions connected to the aspirations and struggles to be granted full personhood. To the extent that members of the popular classes participate in the murgas and reflect on their lives, histories, actions, and destinies, the spectacle becomes a rite of passage from nonpersonhood to personhood. Finally, the murgas fulfill a need not only through their educational and communicative mission, but also because they offer a repertoire of aesthetic and dramatic resources to those individuals and groups working to realize and defend human rights.

The Corporeal Dimension of Carnival “The world of Carnival,” made up of abstract symbols, narrations, and expressive techniques, is also made up of the very concrete performers, spectators, stages, trips between stages, etc. This exceptional world of dreams, powers, and joy stems from and is inextricably intertwined with daily social experience: “the world beyond Carnival.” While the two worlds are distinct, they cannot be separated. Such a false and violent demarcation would hide the fact that Carnival is part of the social and historical experience of the nation and subjected to the laws of that reality. Similarly, no clear line exists to divide ideas, fantasies, and feelings from bodies, sensations, and biological needs. We are nothing more than “material with a conscience” and our thoughts and fantasies are “the conscience of the material.” To separate the dichotomy would obfuscate the fact that the imaginary world is the projection of material beings, the vision of real spectators. Also, it would wrongly suggest that the communicative, aesthetic, sensual, and psychic experience of Carnival is not real. Carnival does nourish an “unusual experience” in an “imaginary space” that contrasts with the external world. During the period of Carnival, the imaginary space and unusual experience of a “world turned upside down” are at its highest level of materiality. The inverse of the real world is incorporated, extended, hyperpresent, and as a result, the conflict between the two worlds is pushed to its limit. There is a direct correspondence between the representational space and the clarity and potency of the fantasy world.

142 / Bodies, Costumes, and Characters A similar blurring of lines occurs between bodies and masks. The illusory component of Carnival should not hide the concrete materiality of the hundreds of actors, the dozens of stages, the many thousands of spectators. Recognizing the fiction that produces Carnival as artistic expression does not undermine the reality of a world that exists as the foundation of an imaginary plane. That foundation is what makes the imaginary world doubly real, a world both represented by people and imagined by people. The material structure of representation is also important because it reveals the precarious and imaginary state of the world of Carnival. In effect, although the performers impersonate opera singers, presidents, and statesmen and dress like gods, kings, and magicians, it is merely pretension and the murguista remains “one of the people,” or “one of us.” Unlike theater or politics, the murga does not hide the person underneath the character. The contradiction between costume and person is necessary for the separate recognition of the two worlds, imagined and real. The conflict between mask/costume and body needs to be clear: the bodies are those of humble people, not of professional actors or singers and the distinction must be notable. In the context of the murga, this is what establishes the distance between desire and reality and provides reasons and motives for historical action. Nevertheless, Carnival’s utopia would not exist without its material base: a living, lived world of bodies and faces. These are not just any faces and bodies; they concretely and distinctly pertain to the popular classes. They are the bodies and faces of people embarked on a particular cultural and social activity. Thus, they present themselves with the voice and dignity of the legitimate world that they represent. Hence, while the distinction between body and character is necessary and also reflects the inherent contradiction of this dichotomy, the separation cannot eliminate the possibility that the body and role of the performer are founded upon a single entity. This identity removes the excess of professionalism and restores the necessary amounts of credibility, passion, and amateurism to the performance; the truth and love in the spectators’ expectations of the actors; and the authenticity and ingenuity of each performer. This foundational identity announces that those on the stage are common, contemporary people, one of “us,” and no other. Thus the murga claims its value as both a farce and a real social and political event that offers up an ensemble of actual experiences and risks. Indeed, during the dictatorship, murguistas were persecuted as much for the imaginary world that they created as for the actual persons that they were. The persons and not the characters, however, were arrested and censored. The police refused to accept the excuse that it was merely the

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characters that had actually spoken or committed the prohibited words or acts. Ultimately the person breathed life into the character, and the imaginary world was as dangerous as the material one. Carnival participants admired murguistas for their words and for the imaginary world they offered as fruits of their cultural labor. To sing, act, or create a scene was a form of struggle, for which one could be silenced or killed, and the murga was an initial trench. This aspect of the murga was as important as, and possibly more significant than, what was represented in the spectacle itself. The dynamic tension that moves from distance to identification and back again, in which both the opposition and fusion of the person and the character become clear, sustains one of the fundamental and generic traits of the murga. On one hand, this unstable quality assures for the performer a necessary degree of credibility, a minimal margin of certainties. On another hand, it guarantees the flexibility needed so that sometimes the murga can appear as an image of a grotesque or desired reality (placing the emphasis on the distance between person and costume), at other times as a fantastic/spectral image of denied personhood, and at other times simply as the common people that constitute that negated humanity.

A Specter Haunts the Stage: Gods, Ghosts, and Beasts As a result of the representational need described above, the murga can be understood ultimately as a collective entity made up of beings from three different planes: the divine plane of what is represented on the Carnival stages; the bestial plane of the external world, the origin and destination of participants when the event is over; and the spectral or phantasmagoric plane, the mythical, imaginary, and sensual world of the murga’s phantasm which superimposes a second reality upon everyday life. The third plane is the home of the archetypal murga, the memory of all murgas, the latent image brought to the surface in the desires and memories revived by the spectacle. Given the tension among these three planes, the actor appears as an inhabitant of a violently divided world oscillating between pure spirit and pure materiality, gods and animals, clear conscience and daydreaming, evanescence and permanence. Anthropomorphic embodiments of this world are half animals and half gods, combinations of nature and humanity. Performers are understood as fantastic beings composed of two halves in conflict, reconciled in the fleeting humanity and fragile

144 / Bodies, Costumes, and Characters balance that only Carnival makes possible. The mask and costume operate as the cement and corset that can make gods and animals coexist in the human person. Strangely, the performers, even those in the roles of dolls/marionettes or in an esperpento-like configuration of irreconcilable parts, manifest a mysterious and rare humanity difficult to find in the external world. One of these two halves comes from the subterranean, inhospitable, and inhumane world of everyday reality and living, of work, misery, exploitation, and suffering. This is the world of pure materialism administered by the productive machine of the state; where people become a mass of objects and workers and where egoism and the survival of the fittest reign; where negative, destructive and self-destructive objectives consume the people’s energy; where one finds a whole range of violent, pathological behaviors; a world that is at the same time produced by the hegemonic order and ignored and attacked by it. This is also the world of the immediate and the instantaneous, without history or laws; it is grotesque, animal, base, violent, degrading, ruled by strange, incomprehensible, and uncontrollable forces. This world reflects, and sometimes seems to celebrate, “The Last Train.”13 The performer’s other half is the momentary incorporation of spirits and divinities, creations produced by desire, imagination, and values, inhabitants of a superreality in which history has ended and all the defining characteristics of a total person are completed. This other half contains a summary of all the imagination, desire, and sacrifices accumulated throughout humanity, from “the beginning of time” to “the end of history.” All conscience, vision, and memory reside in this world alongside unlimited access to goods and rights, pleasure, values, beautiful ideas, feelings, and noble emotions. The murga and all of its participants can therefore be seen as an ensemble of unresolved persons, divided beings, half god and half subpersons, that reappear each year in the existential and historical dramas of Carnival to reconcile their opposing parts and to prolong the status of personhood beyond the space and time of Carnival. The struggle for personal integrity adopts the form of a battle (a romance) against the witchcraft and spells that have enchanted many to exist in a world without humanity. Undoing this condition suggests the triumph of Carnival and the world of rights and pleasures over a social reality that reduces people to frauds and pilgrims, eternally exiled as drifting bodies or wandering and weeping souls. This triumph, which results in disenchantment and the recovery of stolen identity and affected integrity, restores justice, logic, reason, humanity: the unrestricted access to material and spiritual goods that should be part of the human condition.

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Omissions and Contradictions in “the Philosophy of Carnival” In spite of Carnival’s good intentions, it cannot be said that carnivalesque representations and human rights discourses are in complete accord. On occasions Carnival perverts meanings in such a way that its projected utopia is no more than a facsimile of reality and thus the antithesis of the carnivalesque inversion. In these instances, Carnival fails to represent a truly utopian world or offer a space for vindication and the defense of human rights. This might be a result of profound, unresolved contradictions at the heart of the carnivalesque world or simply a consequence of unnecessary burdens that weigh down “the philosophy of Carnival.” Antonio Gramsci posited that all people, in their own ways, are philosophers. The spontaneous form of philosophizing appears in language, “common sense,” “good sense,” popular religion, and all systems of beliefs, opinions, interpretations, and behaviors that together can be called folklore. Nevertheless, from this first level of philosophizing (unconscious, contradictory, disarticulated, and ahistorical), individuals pass to a second level where they become conscious of their own philosophy, its origin and historicity. They become critical of their philosophy and transform it into something more articulated and coherent, in such a way that they can then also act in a more or less coherent manner.14 Gramsci wrote: When one’s conception of the world is not critical and coherent but disjointed and episodic, one belongs simultaneously to a multiplicity of mass human groups. The personality is strangely composite: it contains Stone Age elements and principles of a more advanced science, prejudices from all past phases of history at the local level and intuitions of a future philosophy which will be that of a human race united the world over. To criticize one’s own conception of the world means therefore to make it a coherent unity and to raise it to the level reached by the most advanced thought in the world. It therefore also means criticism of all previous philosophy, in so far as this has left stratified deposits in popular philosophy. The starting-point of critical elaboration is the consciousness of what one really is, and is “knowing thyself” as a product of the historical process to date which has deposited in you an infinity of traces, without leaving an inventory.15 Popular philosophy, in this case the philosophy of Carnival, would also be something like a collection of deposited layers or strata, piled one on top of another and each one made of fragments, residues, and elements of

146 / Bodies, Costumes, and Characters unknown, diverse origins — in sum, a mountain of incoherent, contradictory, disarticulated elements all mixed together. The philosophy cannot be separated from its own history just as culture cannot be separated from the history of culture. One cannot have a critical and coherent conception of the world without a consciousness of its historicity, an idea of the phase of development that it represents and the fact that this notion contradicts other conceptions of the world.16 The work of establishing a link between the space of Carnival and the space of promoting human rights and questioning reality is weakened by the carnivalesque representations that consciously or unconsciously contradict the spirit and objective of the human rights struggle by ratifying an economic, social, political, or cultural reality that ignores or violates that struggle. Actual representations reflect contradictory elements within Carnival’s philosophy of equality, fraternity, reason, liberty, justice, solidarity, and equal rights; elements that are foreign or contrary to and thus infringe upon the humanistic fantasy of defending human rights. This has occurred in part because while Carnival became a capitalist enterprise, a politically and ideologically loaded moment, and a massive, multiclass phenomenon, it also became a heterogloss, masked, semiotic, and semantically truculent space. Among the many different groups that participate in Carnival exist layers of differentiation, hierarchy, and antagonism. While the interests of the diverse groups sometimes coincide or complement one another, they often are conflicting (with more or less possibility of resolution or articulation) or simply contradictory (only articulated through the work or magic of a populist rhetoric17). These coincidences, conflicts, and contradictions not only result in the institutional and commercial mode of Carnival and the murgas, but also shape the types of representations, the aesthetic and ideological proposals, and, in general, the positioning of the murgas with respect to Uruguayan social life and history. Although it is meaningful to describe the murga as archetypal and to identify Carnival with a national-popular collective will, the historical changes, conflicts and differences among the distinct practices of Carnival and the murga are equally significant. Conflict has led to a schism that is not merely aesthetic or formal but ideological and political as well. The murgas-murgas, the murgas-pueblo, and the anti-murgas are the three protagonists of this struggle, a more vast, serious, and profound conflict than the skirmishes between Los misteriosos and Los oportunos at the end of the nineteenth century.18 In one retirada, a murga expresses murguista-murguista soy yo (“I am a murguista-murguista”).19 Thus a particular mode or style of doing murga is defined universally and set in contradistinction to an apparent nonmurguista “disguised as a murguista” and to what a murga should not be and do. The murguista-murguista style was believed to descend from

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the authentic murga and was characterized by hyperrealism or a reflection of a grotesque, oppressive, and authoritarian reality disguised with false puerility and carnivalesque paraphernalia. Here nothing is inverted, and inversion is not celebrated. Instead, the murga replicates and celebrates an external reality and does not observe the utopia of Carnival. When reality is not represented exactly, it is exaggerated, made more grotesque, possibly even offered up as a pleasing, desirable orgy or a sado-masochistic paradise.20 These murgas, which present themselves as authentic, often ridicule certain social types and represent scenes that highlight the imbalance and abuses of power. In these scenes, someone, usually a prostitute, domestic worker, black, Chinese, homosexual, fat or ugly woman, redhead, peasant, invalid, drunk, or drug addict, is dramatically victimized or ultimately punished by dominant social types, the “normal”-macho murguistas, such as police officers, politicians, ministers, superintendents, or the president. The murga resorts to this style of humor, a style that is contrary to the carnivalesque because it is based in the ridicule of the subaltern other, in the hope that it will resonate with and find an accomplice in its audience; indeed, it often succeeds. However, a public that is presumed to think with the mentality and the moral or aesthetic values of the dominant classes will find these murgas entertaining and funny. On such occasions the representations stand by and ratify the values and institutions of the dominant classes. These murgas do not reflect the sentiments of laughing “at oneself” or laughing “with others” that are celebrated in other performances. Instead they promote laughter at the expense of an other who does not come from the powerful or middle sectors of society, but from the popular classes. “The Policeman’s Couplet” of the murga Saltimbanquis, for example, refers to “a half-deaf, pigeon-toed, cross-eyed servant” who reports that she was raped. When the police officers arrive, she begs them to hear and to “dramatize” the reconstruction of events. In another couplet, one of the officers pretends to place ice on the genitals of an inebriated person and then molests a transvestite.21 All these examples are intended to make the audience laugh but contradict the supposed mission of the Carnival, which is to transport us to a world where one can celebrate the prohibited and the displaced, where one can satisfy one’s desires and where the imbalance of power has disappeared or been inverted. From other readings, it may be argued that the couplet is ridiculing and criticizing the conduct of the officer. However, the text, the dramatic structure, and the set do not favor this reading. On the contrary, aside from the insensitivity with which the theme of sexual abuse is treated, the

148 / Bodies, Costumes, and Characters character so abused is named “servant,” the name used only by employers. In contrast, in the commedia dell’arte, Carnival, popular music, and even soap operas, the domestic worker becomes the beloved of an impossible love, a Cinderella or Columbine. In the murga, however, the conduct of the police symbolizes and celebrates the abuse of authority as well as the violation of civil rights and the integrity of personhood. Finally, the transvestite of the murga is certainly not “the queen” of the llamadas, but the homosexual, transvestite, woman, black, Jew, or cripple who must be burned, stoned, sacrificed, or crucified in public to satiate the fanatical masses, a custom inherited from all too familiar Western traditions rather than the traditions of theater or Carnival. The victims, the objects of cruelty and ridicule, do not conform to the subjective “we” constructed by this murga (whites, “ladies and gentlemen”) but to a “they,” the others (fags, servants, brothel girls, ignorant farmboys, simpletons, the ulcers of society) who become the targets of scorn and laughter. With regard to this discussion, Antonio Iglesias, a murga director and a spokesperson for the murgas-pueblo, wrote: the definition of murga-murga has been used to suggest that some represent the true spirit of the murgas more than others (the murgas-pueblo, the anti-murgas) when, in fact, those that propose this are actually far from that true spirit. From its inception, the murga has been a critique, a reflection of neighborhood sensibilities, a summary of popular sentiments, a satire, and a barometer of collective experiences. The collective is picaresque and clever, not crude or vulgar. The Uruguayans were always an example of participation and civic responsibility, and the murga should be no exception. To repeat the same word (murga) in order to define our power is to be convinced that we are actually what we say. We are a murga and we do not dare to stop. We are loyal to what the murga has always represented. We will never give up the most precious desires of our people, and we respond to each situation without hiding, without renunciations, without vulgarities or cheap laughs or easy comfort. Because the murga is the high form of the popular culture.22 The polemic is both formal and functional and is linked to an ethical and political positioning. In the words of Carlos Modernell, a lyricist who writes for different kinds of murgas: I only ask that the people not throw mud at those who paint their faces to jump on the bandwagon

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To be a murguista is to be the voice of popular things and to plant smiles through romances It is not to seek easy applause with sentimental verses, where some pseudo poet profits from the worker’s hunger I want to keep singing, but also maintain the flight that keeps me from brushing against that which creeps along the floor.23 Yet ridiculing the subaltern as a form of entertainment is not exclusive to the murgas-murgas. Many so-called murgas-pueblo, in spite of their politically committed and militant attitudes toward the promotion and defense of human rights, often also fall into the trap of reproducing the values and concepts of domination. Along their path, the creators and performers forget some of the human rights that they ostensibly support. Lamentably, this erodes the murgas’ mobilizing and expressive power and consequently causes the deterioration of the always fragile and unstable national-popular alliance. At worst, this process depletes and subverts Carnival’s potential for liberation, stimulates its homeostatic and cathartic potential, and transforms Carnival into a coercive dramatic system. Thus, the abuse or ridicule of certain social types and the reproduction of dominant values, ideas, and aesthetics place Carnival and its radical potential at great risk. Some murgas consider and satirize this very issue in other formats, testifying to the existence of opposing senses of humor, eroticism, and pleasure. The sensibility of the popular classes, with a certain selfconsciousness, occupies one position, while the other is upheld by sensationalist murgas that, by reproducing the sensibilities of power with the eventual complicity of part of the public, make fun of the others, the popular classes, the people. In its extreme, the latter position is reflected in “The Policeman’s Couplet” or “The Last Train.” In contrast, “The Couplet of the Common Man” demonstrates the position of the popular classes and criticizes cheap entertainment in the form of the use and abuse of eschatological jokes (which are appropriately carnivalesque when performed correctly), the ridicule of an other (peasant, foreigner, gay, black, Jew, etc.), or the lack of humor and social value of an aesthetic that perceives Carnival as a light, temporary diversion and can ultimately wound people:

150 / Bodies, Costumes, and Characters [Directed at the character representing The Common Man] So you want to laugh? Sit back and relax, Cover the children’s ears, please At everyone’s request . . . comes . . . something entirely new . . . here is. . . . The Faaaaltaaa Veeeerdeee! [Air of revelry and rural celebration Music of accordion, guitar, etc.] The cowboy Anacleto is such a willy you will see what his big foot does look, all can see he’s famous even among the sheep and the sow This other one, who will play a faggot, his presence kills him, you see, like seagulls at the meat-packing plants, whatever tripe he doesn’t eat, he entangles it in his feet One can play the drunk and the other, in witty form, picks up words that rhyme and connotes triple X words Let’s imitate fat Porcel and repeat the jokes of the Great Quevedo parody the great, skinny Olmedo soil ourselves and . . . fart on ourselves! One who pees onstage one who makes a joke about Jews, “square” Spanish immigrants and blacks let’s imitate Alf, it’s very effective Laugh, I tell you! laugh, laugh, laugh, laugh, laugh! what rotten people! . . . laugh, damn it! Little Ass . . . Penis . . . Little Shit laugh, laugh, I beg you! . . . laugh! I wear condoms, AIDS, penicillin . . . Zodape . . . Pendorcho . . . Maraño . . .

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laugh, laugh, laugh! Don’t make me beg! people! . . . laugh! swear! laugh, damn it! laugh, laugh, laugh, laugh! . . . [Big silence] Character of The Common Man Ha. Ha. Ha. [Not convincing. Even scornful and reprobate] [Long silence] Hey, you guys, bring me joy! Make me laugh, fools! Don’t you see I am waiting? Go for it, champs! Ridicule defects that people always have because I come to laugh sad destiny, clown don’t you see that it is my own lack that you are putting on stage Chorus Oooo, how much pain24 Thus, some more conscious performers, as in this Falta y resto couplet, have made efforts to demonstrate new values and new social realities, be more coherent and break away from the characteristic vices of past murgas. They have displaced uncritical cultural reproductions, celebrations of a grotesque and archaic reality, and the perverse manipulations of popular feelings and expectations, with a creative posture more in tune with new and emerging values, expectations and sensibilities. They have redefined comedy, eroticism, pleasure, and laughter in correspondence with an alternative order, the inverse of the current order, and a foundation of respect for personal integrity and human rights.

– Five –

Carnival Celebrates the National Popular Epic Murga, the people’s queen as long as the people reign, which is its hope — “Introduction,” Reina de la Teja, 1981

Carnivalesque vs. Epic? Recent literary criticism has dedicated more time and energy than ever before to the themes of Carnival and the carnivalesque in literature. This focus reflects a desire to recuperate the material, sensual, corporal, physiological, erotic, scatological, and playful dimensions of human experience, all of which have been simultaneously created and repressed by history and civilization. Critics have awakened Caliban to replace Ariel, rediscovered Bakhtin’s critical work about popular culture in the Middle Ages and the Rabelaisian novel, and suggested a rereading of the classics from this new angle. They read the destabilizing, therapeutic, and potential energy of play, humor, the principle of pleasure, and the scatological. Their work reflects a strong interest in national subcultures or the cultural practices of the popular classes, the very foundations of carnivalesque qualities. They pay attention to social dramas and nonliterary discursive forms, including carnivalesque celebrations and rituals, and demonstrate a predilection for the dialogic and heteroglossy structures in opposition to the monologic and homogeneous character of the epic form, the discourse of power. Ultimately, these recent literary critics focus on manifestations of resistance or opposition to institutions like the state, which attempt to control, subject, and hegemonize the centrifugal desires and forces that operate in society. I lived during the military dictatorship, and so my initial interest in Carnival corresponds to many of the reasons listed above. Nevertheless, the social and political role of certain carnivalesque representations in 152

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recent Uruguayan history attracted my attention far more than Bakhtin’s theories or literary criticism. My interest was further accentuated as I felt the need to offer a perspective on national culture that differed from the standpoint of academia and particularly literary criticism, a standpoint that generally ignores and despises Carnival. Moreover, I felt a need to critique and transform the academic analysis that all too often abstracts, dehistoricizes, idealizes, and simplifies Carnival and the carnivalesque discourse. Indeed, the idea that a strict opposition between the carnivalesque discourse and the epic discourse exists has been particularly damaging. Another harmful process is the manipulation of an idea of Carnival as an entirely free space, subject only to metaphysics, instinct, the principle of pleasure, and libidinal energies. When carnivalesque discourse is associated with the popular cultural practices within this framework, both notions successfully perpetuate the idea of the popular sectors’ natural tendency toward chaos and disorder and their inability to propose new modes of social organization (beyond carnivalesque parodies and farces). Since I observed quite the opposite in my experiences at Carnival, I propose here a third reading based on the relationship between the carnivalesque discourse and the epic discourse. An interpretation of Montevideo’s Carnival in the last quarter of the twentieth century must not overlook the epic character of carnivalesque discourses. Thus we coin the term carnivalesque-epic discourse. It is important to note that while Bakhtin theorized that the epic opposes the dialogism of the novel, both Walter Benjamin and Bertolt Brecht posited that the dialectic conflict among the logics of diverse agents and historical classes is the dynamic center of epic theater. The notion of a carnivalesque-epic discourse calls attention to the way that an epic discourse takes form within the space-time coordinates traditionally assigned to certain rituals and representational forms of Carnival. Within Carnival, this epic discourse may even tend to dominate other discourses in circulation. Second, the notion requires recognition of the carnivalesque-epic discourse’s distinction with regard to other epic discourses. Third, the carnivalesque-epic discourse is seen as differentiated from two other discourses: the parody of the epic discourse (an anti-epic form) and the romance. These discourses, among others, are present at Carnival but in a subordinated form. The parody or ridicule of the epic is intended to make fun of and denounce the epic discourse of power, sometimes to delegitimize it and other times simply to laugh without consequence and reaffirm the hegemonic discourse. The romance refers to an exhausted or defeated epic, a tragi-comedy such as Don Quixote, that illuminates the impossible, unresolved character of the hero’s project.

154 / Carnival Celebrates the National Popular Epic Finally, the notion of the carnivalesque-epic genre calls for explanations of both the epic genre and the carnivalesque genre, as well as demonstrations of the relationship between history, the role of carnivalesque representations, and the reasons for the epic genre’s reappearance in Montevideo’s Carnival.

The Historical Correlate of the Carnivalesque Epic Before explaining the terms “epic” and “carnivalesque-epic,” I will outline the foundations upon which the Carnivalesque-epic discourse emerges. Carnival’s representations transformed and garnered a new role with the growth of leftist social, cultural, and political organizations that began in the early 1970s. At that moment, a sector of Carnival’s ensembles under the leadership of certain directors, lyricists, and artists placed the murgas and the space of Carnival at the service of an oppositional political activism. Without moving far beyond the genre’s own form of criticism, these murgas now yielded to an ideological and political project of the left at a time when the political-economic system was deeply challenged. Prohibited, censored, or intimidated after the 1973 coup, the murgas returned to demonstrate their belligerent and caustic approach while the military government gradually declined. The murgas’ return was paralleled by the historical moments of the popular refusal of the 1980 Plebiscite, the 1982 triumph of the opposition in the internal elections of the traditional political parties (the only political activity permitted that year), the massive attendance at the celebration of the 1983 International Workers’ Day, and the climate of protest, organization, and mobilization that characterized 1984 and culminated in the general elections of that year. Ideological and political tension continued to grow as a result of the Law of Impunity and elections, particularly that of 1989, the first truly democratic election since the dictatorship, when the Broad Front triumphed in Montevideo. As a consequence of the Naval Club Pact, the first civil governmentelect of 1985 avoided a trial of the military personnel involved in the coup d’état and the repression of the dictatorship. In 1986, the government of Colorado President Julio Sanguinetti, with the support of Wilson Ferreira Aldunate and other National Party leaders, promulgated the Law of Cancellation of State Punitive Measures against military and police personnel; in other words, the Law of Impunity of human rights violations committed by the military government between 1973 and 1985. The Law of Impunity did not include a trial, nor was it a pardon. Indeed, it made all investigations and trials impossible. As soon as the law

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had passed, social and political organizations of the left and even some minor personalities of the traditional parties began a campaign for its annulment. In order to constitutionally defeat this or any other law, opponents needed to gather enough signatures and documentation giving clear evidence that more than 25 percent of the electorate opposed the law, in which case the state would be required to hold a plebiscite. In spite of threats and various sorts of tricks and swindles, the organizers eventually gathered over five hundred thousand signatures. After more than a year of counting and fighting various efforts to reduce the number of signatures, the Electoral Court ratified the petitions. The plebiscite took place in 1989, but the Law of Impunity passed by a narrow margin, supposedly “to protect a fragile democracy” by acting with “caution” and avoiding the ire of the military, which threatened to return with reprisals. In spite of this tragic ending, the opposition to the law’s promulgation through Executive Power and the ratification of the Legislative Assembly, the organization of the Pro-Referendum Campaign and the struggles to collect and ratify signatures from 1986 to 1989 constituted a true popular epic. “The defeat of April 1989,” which ratified the Law of Forgetting, gave rise to what would become known as the Green Country (voters against the Law of Impunity). The left’s triumph in Montevideo and its growth on a national level in 1989 was primarily the political translation of the Green Country in the capital city. At the same time, the Broad Front’s vicissitudes during the dictatorship and its participation in the processes of liberation, democratization, and reconstruction modified national politics in such a way that the left was recognized as the third party responsible for the foundational political pact, a status previously held only by the traditional parties. Through its own story of intense repression, clandestine political activity, the incarceration and exile of many of its members, the Broad Front generated its own epic. Thus it possessed the prestige, won in battle by its militants and heroes, and the symbolic capital to compete for the directorship of Uruguay’s future. The left achieved a status equal to the traditional parties (with their epic rooted in the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, the era of the construction of the modern national state and electoral politics1) and became the object of rational, traditional, sentimental, and aesthetic adhesions.2 This is the historical juncture, the sociopolitical context, and the symbolic base that make the emergence of the epic genre possible and explain the privilege of this genre in the theater of the tablados. The Pact or Armistice among the parties and the military government would create a major obstacle in the search for truth and justice and betray the popular struggle, the epic poem of triumph, and defeat for the democratic forces,

156 / Carnival Celebrates the National Popular Epic the subculture of the left, the Green Country “of a people who never surrendered.” The Armistice echoed the Pact struck between Buenos Aires and Spain in 1811 and it constituted a major social and historical referent for the symbolic universe of the murga and the carnivalesque-epic aesthetic.

Tradition of the Epic Form The term “epic” has been used to refer to a particular genre of representation (epic poetry), as well as to a form of discursive reelaboration of social and historical experiences and their meanings (a heroic approach), not necessarily tied to a determined form of poetic composition but with similar elements and functions. A third use, employed by Bakhtin, is defined through opposition to the virtues of the novelesque, carnivalesque discourse (heterogloss, centrifugal forces, dialogism, engagement with the everyday, emphasis in corporal materiality, the humanization of history, etc.). While Bakhtin’s usage is suggestive, it has been particularly damaging because it tarnishes and simplifies the epic as well as the novelesque and carnivalesque tradition, creating a false opposition between them and an idealization of both the novel and Carnival. In one sense, “epic poetry” refers to Homeric poetry and the tradition that apparently began with those compositions. The art of the epic has generally consisted of the poetic reelaboration of a fixed historical or mythological theme that is more or less universally known to its audience. For example, The Iliad related the events of the Trojan War and The Odyssey conveyed the subsequent stories of Ulysses’ adventures. These epics circulated for a long time as recited oral compositions or as part of dithyrambic works and in various public occasions such as contests, festivals, and community celebrations, particularly in the context of the Pan-Athenian Games. The themes of the epic poem consisted of heroic and glorious characters, situations, and stories, topics of great relevance and importance for the collective. It differed from the tragedy only in that the epic was the narration of a past event, while tragedies were represented as if they occurred in the present. Heroes such as Ulysses, Hector, and Achilles occupied the primary plane of the epic, and their deeds and fame distinguished them from the people who made them into objects of admiration, veneration, and even cults. More importantly, the heroes became model figures and repositories for the interests and values of the community. In addition, these issues were nourished by and articulated with other popular stories and legends accumulated throughout history and with the mythological universes inhabited by gods, demigods, and almost divine humans.

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In terms of representation, epic poetry was performed: singers, orators, and contestants related the hero’s life and events in an oral form that consisted of recitation and song. They described to a public the protagonist’s “legendary and remote” world, thus producing a spatial and temporal distance. Indeed, the epic genre is founded on this distance, and thus the magnification or exaggeration, of space and time. In effect, the poem enlarges the hero and the theme and creates an epic distance between the period of the character’s life and the moment of telling the epic story. Composed and constructed through the ancestral techniques of storing, memorizing, and producing verses, the epic evokes, remembers, and celebrates a mythic, ideal world of a civilization’s “birth.” In general, the epic hero is a national, historical or mythical figure who carries and represents an ambitious objective, or titanic task. He is the protagonist of heroic deeds, journeys, or battles and therefore distinct from the defeated, impotent, abandoned, mournful, and endlessly searching romantic hero. Epics also differ from novels of chivalry, which describe civilizing projects under layers of action, adventure, persecution, skirmishes, embroilments and entanglements, uncertainties of paternity or maternity, enchantments, and fantastic events, generally attended by a gallery of ogres, dragons, magicians, fairies, witches, and beautiful ladies in peril. Unlike the heroes of the romance or the novel of chivalry, the epic hero possesses extraordinary abilities and enjoys great renown. The exalted hero is a source of moral inspiration and guidance. In an elevated and solemn manner corresponding to the seriousness and symbolic value of the epic theme, the story becomes a site of identification and a reaffirmation of the values, ideals, interests, concerns, attributes, conscience, and way of being that the hero and his project symbolize. This evocation and celebration of identity in turn becomes an allegory for the preservation, continued re-creation, or restoration of the original world and order. The hero’s idealized civilization is opposed to an inhospitable and barbaric, an antagonistic world that presents numerous challenges and obstacles. To survive, the community must defeat and destroy the outer/ other worlds. With this celebration of nobility and bravery, epic poems have been a preferred form of entertainment at the banquets of royalty or militias. The Siete Partidas de Alfonso X suggests that no other form be used at such reunions. Battles, extreme situations, tests, and challenges that mark the hero’s journey or pilgrimage and demonstrate his character constitute a central part of the hero’s symbolic power. In all situations, the hero is presented as monumental and superhuman, the inhabitant of a superior world. Those who gaze at him are forced to see him “from below” or “on their knees” in the terms of Ramón del Valle Inclán.

158 / Carnival Celebrates the National Popular Epic The epic saga presupposes a trajectory or plotline that begins with the hero’s alienation (as in the Poema del Mio Cid), from which he reappears or returns to prove his dexterity and greatness that were called into question, like the superior world that inspires him, the “lost paradise,” or better yet a world that has never been realized. When he succeeds in making this utopic world real, the hero has recovered his “self,” assumed his full potential, and can now attain his status as hero. In contrast with the Aristotelian interpretation of the epic, Castelvetro adds that the epic genre is not necessarily restricted to a story of one hero and can convey the actions of various individuals, an entire people, or a race. Tasso suggests that the epic should focus entirely on the heroic events of Christianity. In terms of the mechanisms of oral production, the poet managed the adaptation and updating, and sometimes the invention and modification of plot characteristics and events. Its form is related to the poem’s mode of production and function in the moment that it is produced and placed in circulation. The epic genre was a recollection and repetition with variations of fundamental stories (main, secondary, etc.), yet central to a collective memory and conscience. The poet, equipped with various meters, lists, archetypal characters, events, symbols, metaphors, phrases, and other tools that allow him to distance time and expand space, managed his compositional arsenal to tell the same story over and over. Variation is as important as repetition. The narration is tied to a process of remembering, forgetting, and reinventing the story in new cultural and political contexts. At times of hegemonic crisis and cultural change, the epic must reemerge in another form to remind the audience of “how it was in reality,” to give them “the authentic history,” “the forgotten history.” Precisely at these times, the epic must give new meanings to the past, the present, and the future and introduce new parameters, models, and criteria for action. The epic written form broke with the epic genre’s tendencies toward public re-creation, performance, and contextual variations. From Virgil’s peculiar reading of two Homeric poems and his writing of The Aeneid, the tradition of the written epic emerged and grew to include Camões’s Os Lusíadas, Alonso de Ercilla’s La Araucana, and Basilio da Gama’s O Uruguay. With this genre’s deviation from the oral form, the essential components of constant modification, adaptation, invention, and manipulation of historical events were almost entirely lost. The written form, however, included its own deformations and inventions. A unique example is that of El Cid, which circulated as a suspended oral composition, collected from the art of popular minstrels and transcribed by the Benedictine monk Pier Abat. In their time, El Cid, Beowulf, and Song

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of Roland were produced orally like other epic poems, but the process of the epic story was interrupted when they were “written down,” and today these works are no longer re-created in oral forms. While the epic genre was once believed to be a storytelling mode that differed from and even opposed the celebration and spectacle of Carnival, such a distinction may apply only to Virgil’s epics, which can in fact be compared to carnivalesque forms since they were read aloud at banquets and public ceremonies. In the beginning, even novels were read aloud in public and provided public, oral, and spectacular dimensions, as we know from Cervantes’s Don Quixote. Over time, the nature of texts as public spectacle was displaced by the act of solitary reading and the production of a listening public was displaced by the abstract construction of a hypothetical readership composed of isolated individuals. Yet it is also important to note that Carnival lyricists write out the librettos well before they are produced. In terms of the creative production, then, Carnival is related to the written epic tradition inaugurated by Virgil (which is not very different from the late nineteenth-century gauchesco poetry and drama of the River Plate). Lastly, the ancient epic stories, publicly told, read, improvised, recited, and sung with musical accompaniment, formed part of the artistic events celebrating and honoring Dionysus, the patron of the theater and the god of Carnival.

The American Epic Those who needed to imagine and narrate the conquest of America transferred the epic to the American context, giving rise to the imperial epic. In the last two hundred years, this was followed by the epic of the creole revolution in the wake of the wars for independence, the bourgeois liberal epic, which confronts the various sectors of the bourgeoisie in local/regional civil wars and culminates in the formation of national states, the socialist epic, which confronts the two historic blocs of capitalists and workers, and finally the neoliberal military epic. These historically accumulated discourses, along with the ancient epics, constitute a vein that nourishes the epic genre in America and allows for constant rearticulations and reappearances of epic stories, particularly in the spaces of Carnival. The European experience in America and the creole experience are signified by the epic. Nevertheless, the epic defining these American experiences differs from the European epic tradition. Here, temporal distance is supplanted by spatial distance and the celebration of the past is replaced by celebrations of adventures, deeds, conquests, and heroes situated in the confines of space rather than time. Remote times give way

160 / Carnival Celebrates the National Popular Epic to remote lands, and the journey in search of lost time is displaced by an exploration in search of lost steps. Rather than honoring a glorious past, the conquest epic celebrates the present of imperial construction and deploys the same resources with which traditional epics celebrated the past. More than a recollection and reaffirmation of foundational myths that legitimate the past order, the conquest epic affirms the myths that are intended to sustain the new imperial order. The spatial distance and the new world’s strangeness gave free reign to the imagination, distortion, and fantasy needed to create an effect of verisimilitude in Europe. The new was perceived or constructed as fantastic. According to Alejo Carpentier, Bernal Díaz del Castillo’s chronicle of encounter is the only authentic and reliable book of chivalry. Without intending to, Carpentier proclaimed, Díaz surpassed the feats of Amadís de Gaula, Belianís de Grecia, and Florismarte de Hircania. In the American epics, Indians, blacks, cowboys (gauchos), immigrants, and other obstacles to civilization displaced monsters, dragons, cyclopses, and other Homeric vermin. Indeed, next to the letters, chronicles, and memoirs of Columbus, Cortés, Pizarro, or Cabeza de Vaca, Ercilla’s La Araucana is a mere formal exercise. Also, the letters, popular songs, and news from America, the first American novellas, revolve around an epic axis given that they describe the events of a conquest. Eventually, the American novel became trapped by the symbiosis (or the conflict from a European perspective) between reality and magic, the epic and the grotesque, the familiar and the strange, the gardens of gold and the jungles infested with cannibals. The communal celebration of the epic spectacle thus was transformed into the inscriptions of a solitary hero sent to civilize, to build a new civilization out of nothing or, even worse, against American materiality and barbarism. With the crisis of Spanish mercantilism and the divisions between creole and colonial interests, the project of American independence inspired new expressive forms of the epic discourse. The independence epic includes the counterpoints, gauchesco poetry, Hidalgo’s popular verses, Bolívar’s letters, the declarations, pronunciations, and “Instructions” of artiguistas, the verses and tunes of patriotic hymns. It is an epic marked by the necessity and legitimacy of war and the glory of independence. Its creators were the soldiers, gauchos, and Indians who related and sang stories and news, and the creole minorities who wrote epistles and manifestoes, debates and speeches to fight “the bad Spanish-born and the worst American-born,” as Artigas exclaimed. During the period of civil wars, postrevolutionary institutional construction, and power struggles among creole bourgeois factions, the liberal epic took form. Written primarily in exile with a style similar to the romance, the liberal epic once again confronted the theme of

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struggle between civilization and barbarism as imported from Europe and the United States. Echeverría’s La cautiva and El matadero, Sarmiento’s Facundo and Mármol’s Amalia are examples of this epic. When liberals consolidated the bourgeois state in the late nineteenth century, they related, re-created, and aestheticized national histories, molding national identities and accommodating facts and rhetorical tools to justify their “national” projects and historical mandates. The genre’s resources included: late gauchesco poetry, such as Hernández’s Martín Fierro (especially part 2: “The Return”); neoromantic poetry, for example, Zorrilla de San Martín’s Tabaré, Leyenda patria and the Epopeya de Artigas; the historical novel, including Acevedo Díaz’s El combate de la tapera. Yet, while the European novels of the period narrate the individual’s vicissitudes in modern society (I think of Balzac, Zola, Mann, Pérez Galdós, Pardo Bazán, etc.), the American novels remained dedicated to the conquest and the subordination, expulsion, or elimination of all those who oppose the civilizing project of the creole bourgeoisies. In the twentieth century, one can identify, one after the other, the different projects or discourses that have attempted to narrate, re-create, and define the American historical experience: the national-popular epic of populist governments, the socialist epic and the neoliberal militarized epic. All three are related to each other through the unstable, inconclusive, and unresolved web of appropriations and oppositions so typical of the carnivalesque spectacle. In the mid-1980s, writers used epics and romances to narrate and explain reality without necessarily needing to select one fixed perspective. On one side, books such as La subversión and Las fuerzas armadas al pueblo oriental sought to provide explanatory texts that justified the military project. Other books disputed these texts also in an attempt to construct alternative national master narratives. This second, diverse ensemble of books included the Historia de los Tupamaros, the Historia del Frente Amplio, the letters and interviews of political leaders such as Wilson Ferreira Aldunate, Rodney Arismendi, and Germán Araújo, the poems of Washington Benavides and Amanda Berenguer, the novels Las manos en el fuego by Ernesto González-Bermejo and Carlos Martínez Moreno’s The Inferno, the collected testimonials of Nunca más, the works Pedro y el Capitán, El herrero y la Muerte, Artigas, General del Pueblo, and the historical novels Hombre a la orilla del mundo by Milton Schinca and ¡Bernabé! ¡Bernabé! by Tomás de Mattos. Oddly, this form of struggle to narrate an alternative history and support the identity and projects currently in circulation as a logical and consistent consequence of national historical circumstances and heroic characters — an attempt to disarm the symbolic fabric of the dictatorship, the neoliberal epic — also

162 / Carnival Celebrates the National Popular Epic occurred in Carnival’s murgas, in the framework of the civic celebration, the popular festival. The representations of Carnival functioned as an initiating ritual that sought to reconstruct the historical continuity interrupted by the coup and to reinitiate the transformation to another way of life and another national model, different from those offered by neoliberalism. Indeed, Carpentier proposed that while European folkdance may have lost much of its magic character, most American collective dances still hold profound ritual meanings, creating in turn a process of initiation. Such rituals are related to Mariátegui’s proposed notion of the epic as the connective element between the lyrical (the initiation) and the novel (the consolidation), a step corresponding to the times of marvel and struggle, when humanity ascends from one Idea (in the Hegelian sense) to another and from one state to another.

The Neoliberal Military Epic With the crisis of state capitalism and batllismo, Uruguayan society entered a period of transition with two possible destinies. One route took the path of electoral politics toward a democratic socialist model. The leftist coalition of the Broad Front promoted this path, which was symbolically inspired by the nineteenth- and twentieth-century revolutions in France, Germany, Spain, and Chile, articulated through a long national democratic tradition and opposed by the U.S. government. Inspired by the Cuban Revolution, the MLN-T pursued in its own way the same objectives, although it considered the possibility of carrying out military actions. In contrast, the other route advocated an authoritarian form of economic neoliberalism that translated into a military dictatorship. Indeed, a sector of the national bourgeoisie, the interests of transnational capitalism, and the armed forces worked together toward this second destiny. Both routes responded to the crisis with policies of general restructuring that addressed order, direction, and the meaning of life in Uruguay. Adherents to the electoral, democratic socialist program hoped to abandon the model of peripheral capitalism in order to try other postcapitalist experiences. Supporters of the neoliberal, authoritarian platform worked toward a restructuring or modernization of the peripheral capitalist model, designed to adapt to the international market, multinational corporations, and world financial centers under the aegis of U.S. interests. The power imbalance sunk the country into the second path. The repression of the Pacheco Areco government, the military coup, and the dictatorship that followed were based on the strategy of Low-Intensity Conflict and the Doctrine of National Security.3 Such measures were taken to create more favorable, secure, flexible, and profitable conditions for

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foreign capital. All of this required new rules of social and political play as well as the elimination of any resistance or opposition to foreign capital, and its interests, now redefined as “national interests.” This project was no more than a new version of the utopian model of development through incorporation into the international market “without any type of intervention,” free-market logic, the entrance of capital and the military containment of an imaginary “international communist conspiracy.” As a principal aspect of this version, its masterminds empowered the armed forces and appointed them as guardians of the new politicaleconomic order. In effect, the military epic rejected liberal democratic institutions as inefficient and the political class as incompetent, corrupt, and susceptible to communist manipulation, proposing that both be replaced by high military commanders and a team of advisors, technocrats, and employees of international organizations (such as the International Monetary Fund and the World Bank). The military epic touted and exalted the cult of the military institution and warrior logic through its esprit de corps, disinterested sacrifice, patriotism, capacity for discipline, sense of duty and immaculate honor, and devout Catholicism. Its protagonists were symbolically presented as “father figures,” “impartial statesmen,” “patriots,” “caretakers of the national patrimony,” “privateers of General José Artigas,” and “admirers of Colonel Lorenzo Latorre.” In contrast with the military’s central role as protagonist, society was deprived of its rights and the power of public institutions and spaces. The military government forced the civil society to take a role of obedience and uncontested subordination, to yield to and accommodate the regime. Finally, the military epic tried to create a legitimating national mystique, deprecated reality or the recent past by replacing it with remote moments, and dedicated itself to a constant manipulation of historical figures and patriotic symbols.4 It reconstructed history by omitting the social and fratricidal struggles that are inextricably woven into our national history5 (avoiding representations of intra- or inter-class conflicts entirely). Instead the military epic showed a predilection for the artiguista revolution of the 1810s, associated with the “birth of orientalidad (or Uruguayan-ness),” but first emptied this struggle of its economically, politically, and culturally egalitarian content and distorted it to minimize the fact that all ended in betrayal and defeat. The other privileged symbol was the dictatorship of Colonel Lorenzo Latorre, the suprapartisan and austere figure associated with “the forging of the national state” back in the 1870s. In sum, the neoliberal epic is a story of the heroic warriors of the military institution, distant but loyal children of Artigas and Latorre. These devoted warriors engage in a massive campaign to construct a

164 / Carnival Celebrates the National Popular Epic social order of their own design, one that follows the mandates of their imaginations and calculations. While in actuality these heroes appear to be the assassins and oppressors of other human beings, treating their objects as if they were not human and forcing them to adapt and work in the manner dictated by the regime, its warriors present themselves in the epic as the providers of culture and the legitimate representatives of the nation, humanity, and the most justified and advanced civilization.6

The Epic of Carnival In spite of the new context, the submerged continuity of leftist subcultures and democratic forces in general created the space for the struggle against the dictatorship and democratic restoration. With limited access to other means of expression, restricted public spaces, and prohibitions against meetings, people relied on Carnival as a popular space to articulate, visualize, and signify social and historical experiences. It became the space for participants to respond to the neoliberal military epic by forming an epic of their own. The tablados, murgas, and llamadas symbolized the reconstitution of a fragmented community, reunited to reinvent, celebrate, and mobilize. At the festivities that included sadness, solemnity, joy, and exuberance, people elaborated a national-popular epic and portrayed “a broad front” of social sectors opposed to the economic, political, and cultural order administered by the dictatorship. The epic discourse of Carnival waged a symbolic dispute with the military epic discourse, using in its favor the symbols of all previous epic discourses to undo the military epic. Thus the carnivalesque epic was “reappropriating” the symbolic and national-cultural capital of earlier traditions in its struggle against the dictatorship and for liberty, democracy, human rights, and popular participation in the construction of a social model with greater equity and solidarity. The voice of history must never be silent Our land was once dressed in glory Ours is the past and the future And the legacy left by our ancestors7 First, the Carnival festivity returned an essential component to the epic discourse: its social base, the community spectacles characteristic of the processions, dances, and colonial canyengues, medieval banquets, and Dionysian parties and contests. Like these celebrations, Carnival followed a tradition of inverting the social order. Moreover, the collective reunited at Carnival to express itself, interpellate society and the state, judge the dictatorship, conform new assemblies and courts, represent a

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new power, and promote a postdictatorship culture. This new symbolic and aesthetic order corresponded to the identities and partisan organizations that reappeared in the movements of students, workers, and other social groups, the campaign against the Law of Impunity and a broader and stronger Broad Front. Through its totalizing and polyphonic nature, the certainty of its annual reappearance, its unifying pilgrimage from stage to stage, and its transgression of the dictatorship’s limits and regulations, the theater of the tablado developed from a space for voicing complaints to an oppositional cultural practice that allowed citizens to reunite and to reconstruct their identities, voices, and collective conscience. Cheers, to our people today, our will must reign again our freedom to think, to decide the path we want to walk, extending our hands to each other you, the people, you will always be sovereign Love, to the salaried workers who struggle throughout their lives in the hopes of seeing a better future Forgotten continent, return to life, it yearns to know the reason that is oppressed in your minds only by joining forces can our voice be independent8 On a structural level, murguistas constructed the introductions and retiradas to articulate centrifugal tensions in order to construct an epic discourse. The chorus, raconteur, and farewell message all projected certain visions and interpretations in order to put pressure on and eventually surpass the dictatorship’s model of society. The potpourris and couplets also portrayed the current social order under the dictatorship in a grotesque and perverse manner. The introduction, in particular, sought “to interrupt” that order with a “triumphal entrance,” to “break the silence of the dark night.” The chorus condemned the dictatorship, and the farewell’s call to action portrayed a utopia, promise, and the tasks needed to restore harmony and correct the equivocal course of history (again we think of The Poem of El Cid).

166 / Carnival Celebrates the National Popular Epic This carnivalesque epic rests upon the convergence of two planes. One is the transhistorical plane, the plane of historical memory, in which the murga functions as a stage for the magical appearance of history. Onstage, heroes, statesmen, celebrities, and other personalities from different spaces and times unite to inspire and guide the murgas and their audiences. Listen in silence [the murguista] will tell us the story of my people’s general who left us his memories We’ll travel through time until we meet him [the General himself] he may be anywhere but he always returns9 The second is a historical plane (the present), which is further divided into the worlds “within” and “outside of” Carnival. In the former, internal world of Carnival we find the murgas and their audiences. The external world consists of everything outside of Carnival space-time and, more particularly, everything that is alien and antagonistic to the world of the tablado. On the transhistorical plane, the principal issue is the reappropriation and rearticulation of national symbolic capital while the objective of the historical plane is to maximize Carnival’s display of current discourses, in both spatial and temporal terms. The greetings and farewells connect the two planes of memory/discourse and present/stage. By revisiting history, the murgas reconnect it symbolically and aesthetically to the present national-popular epic. They celebrate the partial triumphs of the current epic, criticize its failures, lament its incarcerations and deaths, but above all, reaffirm and rearticulate a new master narrative of the country’s history, one that gives new meaning to daily experiences and provides motives and reasons for emancipation. Chorus Heroic Zapicán fell, the storms came Abayubá and Añagualco, already on their pedestals Yandinoca gave his life . . . how many lies Tabobá dead in combat, powerless before the sword that was bathed in his blood Magaluna splits the heroic fighter and another champion is lost in the field Like a father of the dark shadows

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Teru goes with a lance in his hand without understanding, these men are attacked brilliant Liropeya is love in wartime and will always mourn on our land Yandubayú has fallen, his canoe no longer advances our poor Indians have lost all hope the shaken forest cries . . . After, the monopoly of the Goths and the cruel invasion of the Lusitanian the Gallic aimed their cannons and the Bretons hit with artillery nevertheless, History gave birth to the gaucho, the shapeless mixture of love and quarrel, horsemen bearing knives and lances opened the gates of this beautiful land10 The epic threaded a long narrative of events and characters (historical as well as legendary) until it arrived at the present moment onstage, the material and corporeal embodiment of the story’s diverse protagonists. Thus, characters, short scenes, poems, and legends appear to establish a series of parallelisms, continuities, and relations that eliminate the distances of time, that is, time conceived as discrete, disjointed compartments. Thus history is reconstructed as a totality, and people are unified before an uninterrupted set of circumstances. The past is offered as an experience that has already occurred but is still alive. For this reason, one cannot forget the past and must learn its warnings and lessons. History teaches that there is much to repeat and redo with improvements, perseverance, courage, and intelligence, and there is much to avoid. The table on the following page outlines the relationship between the historical past and the present of Carnival as it is mediated and administrated by the murgas. Within the unstable pendulum between these two poles that constitute the semantic play of the carnivalesque epic, the first pole frames and highlights the second. While in some instances the murga first remembers the defeated Uruguayans, those countrymen united in the Exodus of the Uruguayan people (the beginning of the national epic), an army of ghosts lost to history’s “twilight zone,” it then goes on to a second stage of narration in which the murga splits to dramatize popular power or at least the hope for such power: Murga, the people’s queen as long as the people reign, which is its hope11

168 / Carnival Celebrates the National Popular Epic (I) Past Heroic Events First Opportunity Darkness and Silence Death and Forgetting Separation and Diaspora Betrayal and Defeat Departure / Forced Exile Disbanding and Persecution Exodus Derailed Independence Individualism / Solitude Inhuman Civilization Sadness and Pain Alienation / Servitude False, Painted-On Laughter

(II) Present Second Opportunity Revelation and Expression Memory and Reappearance in History Reencounter and Reunion Truth, Justice, and Punishment Triumphant Return End of the Journey and Siege of the City Arrival at the Promised Land Independence Won Reunion / Union / Cooperation Installation of a New Civilization Joy and Celebration Restored Self-Control / Popular Power Authentic Laughter

The same tension occurs, but this time in reverse, and vacillates between a low rumble and a full-blown melodrama. Now the climate of celebration and popular reign is interrupted when the public laments the tragedy of the defeated, subordinated murguista. As a result, the people are forced to disfigure, cover, and disguise themselves in order to speak; they are forced to speak in code and to laugh when it seems more appropriate to cry. The murguistas become puppets, condemned to poke fun at themselves and paint smiles on their faces. I am that old murguista with my face painted the one who dreamed life between happy guffaws I am that buffoon you seek he who has lost laughter the one you always ask to smile and you demand that I laugh? that the show go on? for this I am a murguero I must fulfill my mission. But tonight I ask that you forget the clown and let me be a man so that I can mourn my failure.12

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After this inversion and momentary alienation, the situation returns to one of balance, and the submission of the murguistas before superior powers (the usurpers of laughter) is transformed into a struggle between two equal powers: on one side, the reprehensible attackers of the murgas; and on the other, the power of the celebratory murga that seeks to punish the guilty. The second power is legitimated by moral superiority and justice rather than by force. And we seek out the guilty when justice calls we seek the guilty when Momolandia loses And for singing to my people with the Idea of standing tall for singing for my people the Diablos verdes lost For wanting to be different like a faithful Quixote only for being different BCG has lost For dreaming of a new world that protects the humble for dreaming of the future Reina de la Teja lost For remembering the examples of their ancestry for looking at themselves in the past Falta y resto also lost13 The loss of Carnival as a space for all was a metaphor for the whole nation, and Carnival’s authorities and judges (The Jury) were equivalent to national leaders. The tragic or melodramatic vein gives way to an instant of some equilibrium between forces, and the participants and viewers can envision “The Day of the Final Victory.” This triumphant occasion would be The True Celebration, The Real Carnival: The day of final victory, when life triumphs over death a day of mourning for the sacred goods and the most haughty a day of costumes and burlesque14

170 / Carnival Celebrates the National Popular Epic As in the past, The True Celebration has no other meaning than reunion, joy, and the coronation of a social and political victory: Looking at the past I see my brothers following Bolívar, who is American history tells us of the Old Fatherland when Don Gervasio adorned it in celebration15 At this point the murga becomes a phantasmagoric appearance, the projected figure of the triumphant community returning to conquer and to exercise its power to tell and produce its own history. Like the socialist and military epics, the carnivalesque epic refers to the history of the wars for independence and the artiguista revolution. Foundational events are interwoven with the present, giving the idea that history repeats itself and the situation remains relatively static. The following farewell displays this structure in its re-creation of the historical events of 1811. It intends to recuperate something that was the basis for both liberal and neoliberal epics. We sing for you throughout the four seasons and we will not tire, the murga is our life we paint our faces for you all year long and for that we choose to pay homage to the most transcendent event of our history the supreme exodus that made us countrymen pride and epic of a people: The Defeat Eighteen hundred and eleven Elío the Spaniard and Buenos Aires have signed the armistice in October the father of our land understood and decided to abandon the place the mulattos wait to see your steps to yield unconditionally conquer or die free, it has been said and the echo of your voice fills the land On the hills the Charrúas stand guard to protect your courageous footprints to guard and escort your majestic figure16 As on many other occasions, the privileged heroes of the epic are José Artigas and his creole armies, the mounted rebels, blacks, and the native Uruguayans. Poetically, they all join the caravan to participate in the revolutionary process first, then “the siege,” and finally the Exodus.

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While Artigas appears as a gaucho bandolero (disrespectful toward the final armistice between Buenos Aires and the Spanish in Montevideo) in the “Black Legend” constructed by nineteenth-century liberals and unitarians like Sarmiento, and as a suprapartisan military chief and patriarch in the “Green Legend” preferred by the nineteenth- and twentieth-century generals, the “Red Legend” constructed by the left and echoed in the murgas represents Artigas as a central figure of a society of blacks, Indians and, gauchos. Here he is responsible for a political and economic program that is profoundly democratic and popular. Highlighting the latter, the carnivalesque epic seeks to put Artigas back at the symbolic center of the current popular-democratic struggle. Indeed, a 1984 retirada retells the national epic up to “the present defeat” (referring to the Naval Club Armistice, proscripted elections, a democracy “under military tutelage,” the pact of silence and forgetting with respect to human rights violations, and the disappearances of the political adversaries). With the birth of Uruguayan-ness thus constructed in the carnivalesque epic, the tablados become a point of transition or return for the true Uruguayan people, a people betrayed and defeated for decades, condemned to exile and the diaspora with the hope of one day returning. In one farewell, the performers pay homage to Bartolomé Hidalgo’s early nineteenth-century poem Cielitos and re-create a narrative of independence that extends to the present stage. The same Goths that Hidalgo fought seem to surround the stage. Chorus [The Murga] returns from the cold, hard silence, she always returns! suffers, shouts, smiles with her people, always! with each new song she risks her life, yet she always fights! from the greeting to the farewell, listen! Soloist Fatherland, from the depths of time your legendary, strong voice arises Fatherland, your voice is the cry that feeds the heroic cielitos,17 the Skies of Freedom that cry he intoned against the invader the Fatherland of Hidalgo, its first poet His silhouette still walks his guitar is sad and attentive

172 / Carnival Celebrates the National Popular Epic the aurora is nothing new for his great eyes and forehead his cielito has left a footprint and by the bonfires you can hear bass strings reasons and stars Chorus Your voice returns in this farewell because the people’s wounds remain open the same Goths that you fought have betrayed your legacy of justice we need some of your cielitos so that the people can sing at these tablados Soloist Whether they come or not, they will hear the good news impunity is over and justice will begin Cielito of ’88 with murga and the people singing together like long thin reeds shivering in fear Chorus Whether they come or not no one will strangle the people impunity is over and justice will begin Soloist And this cielito ends here let the snare drums roll that the song is the same because the people started to march forward Chorus Inheritor of Hidalgo’s cielitos Falta y resto bids farewell Uruguayan, and valiant murguero, saluting a people who never surrendered18

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In these moments, the murga acquires a defiant, eschatological, and monumental tone, very distinct from the positions of the murga that merely “hopes” for popular power or “laments” its sad muteness, painted smiles, submission to superior powers. It is also different from the murga that seeks out the guilty parties or prefigures a final victory. This murga comes from the future, rising from “the depths of time,” or from the past, returning from “the cold, hard silence,” with the ability to see entirely both the future and the past. Its members, the “children of a dark and tranquil cradle,” are now cognizant of everything (“nothing escapes their eyes”) and therefore are feared by “men and fools.”19 Likewise in one of Araca’s complicated farewells (which cost its director an arrest for his “use of patriotic symbols”), Artigas appears to accuse the government and the military of crimes committed during the dictatorship. The accusation is made before a chorus of murguistas who, in a surprise twist, reveal that they are wearing the blandengue uniforms of the 1811 army. Finally, in another twist, the militiamen are accused of treason and “placed on trial”: the Blandengues display their gloves, which are purely white on one side and soiled with blood on the other. The carnivalesque epic’s discursive repertoire, however, is not limited to the wars of independence and the artiguista narrative. On other occasions, the epic lists and pays homage to the national artists (Bartolomé Hidalgo, Florencio Sánchez, Juan Zorrilla de San Martín, Pedro Figari, Joaquín Torres García, Delmira Agustini, María Eugenia Vaz Ferreira, etc.), ideologues and statesmen (Dámaso A. Larrañaga, José P. Varela, José E. Rodó, José Batlle y Ordóñez, Julio C. Grauert, Luis A. de Herrera, Domingo Arena, Emilio Frugoni, Baltasar Brum, Andrés Lamas, Enrique Erro, Gutiérrez Ruiz, Zelmar Michelini, etc.), or nineteenth-century revolutionary leaders (Aparicio Saravia, Leandro Gómez, etc.). At times the murgas recounted and paid homage to regions, cities, the rivers that run to the same sea,20 the working-class neighborhoods from which the murgas come,21 and to the other murgas22 to produce a sense of spatial totality and popular convergence. The lists of historical characters, places, rivers, neighborhoods, or murgas, like the lists of armies, generals, battles, and regions of the classical epic, tend to function as a panoramic vision of the obstacles overcome, the spaces conquered, and the treasures accumulated by the project that the murga represents. On the concrete historical plane, the sudden arrival and deployment of the multitudes of murguistas and their followers, the diverse parades through the city, the ambience of celebration and collective revelry, the space and time that Carnival occupies, constitute the material proof and sensual experiences that support and signify a carnivalesque epic. Finally, the interpretation of the carnivalesque epic as a burlesque parody of romantic poetry (like Echeverría’s La cautiva) or neoromantic

174 / Carnival Celebrates the National Popular Epic poetry (like the Leyenda patria or Zorrilla de San Martín’s Tabaré) is misleading. None of the texts offered here are burlesques, parodies, or satires. On the contrary, although performed in the murga style, these farewells and retiradas are lyrical, romantic, and profoundly felt, and perceived as such by the performers and the public. Rather than a parody of romantic or neoromantic poetry, the carnivalesque epic appropriates and manipulates the genre to construct its own revolutionary, popular mythology. Yet its mythological basis, poetic justification, and aesthetic framework correspond to the transformation of the current society and culture rather than the early nineteenth-century political struggle of the liberals or the late nineteenth-century oligarchic order. In the same way that the national anthem could become a song of protest in a particular context, the historical place and time automatically transform the romantic poem into a murga composition and indeed, the only place where neoromantic poetry comes to life. Context does the trick: as Borges noted, Menard’s El Quijote clearly differs from the original namesake, although a superficial reading suggests simple repetition. Recitation Right now from the storm exact, turbulent, enraged all the arteries of the world’s four corners converging in the vine and the camalote. Enormous. Teeming. The warm, affluent waters flow, as in ancient times when they heroically conspired against the intruder. History repeats itself and we will see glory running through the clean, pure, brave veins with honey overflowing for patriots and bile for the oppressors. Trickery, betrayal, and jealousy lived a century with privileges privileges stolen from the ragged privileges shared by few, a few tottering, swollen ants many thirsty tribes decadences23 Through a transmutation of the national-popular spirit, Carnival’s heroes (statesmen or militiamen) appropriate the bodies and voices of the murgas to represent military leaders, political figures, or national poets.

Carnival Celebrates the National Popular Epic / 175

The murga is presented as a repository of historical memory, a summary of national culture and values, and converted into a protective and model figure. Constituted as a framework of unquestionable, sovereign morality, the murga’s words and criteria garner the status of laws. A monarch with many heads, the murga espouses the laws of the people and becomes a body of justice against the people’s enemies. Finally, the stage recounts history and becomes an aleph from the end of time. There, the murga announces what is to come: The clarion sounds distant, sharp and the most beautiful land in the world will see how the troop grows with epic waters, sunsets the Southern Star splintered into a thousand arrows will join the mission and then the sun will come the meadow will appear the ceiba trees and roses will blossom again and they will be kept secret together we will breathe in the most beautiful aroma the pitangas will come to our mouths The River turns and we must navigate farther upstream in the second raft of History Our heroic rivers return bringing clarity Our ground will tremble The rivers of the Eastern Province will not stop again Cuareím River, northern and in such blossom Like a watchman for the entire nation from father Artigas, you are an adopted son this song flows along your shores Indian Arapey River, copper-skinned and eager eternal blue you gave to the Daymán River and from there, “the Heroic Province,” the Queguay River will submit a crystal waterfall to dream24 The narrative’s finale is a symbol and a presence of a universal, complex entity that stands out on the horizon, and the murguistas structure it around the concept of a return march to the city, a return from exile and defeat. It reflects the confluence of every neighborhood, murga and river, all the struggles of the collectivity throughout time, from the first

176 / Carnival Celebrates the National Popular Epic Indians to the most recent disappeared and dead, unified in an ancestral and millenarian epic for social justice. Keeping alive the memory and legacy of popular-national defeated heroes and values, the murgas found the street stages, as they would a city/fort/port, the sites for their celebrations of approaching victory and the evocation of the national epic. In the tradition of the medieval epic, the murgas’ banquets and revelry are intended to entertain, fortify bonds of camaraderie, prepare mentally, and encourage the troops on the eve of another battle.

Between the Epic and the Burlesque Although it may seem paradoxical, many of the murgas’ representations are articulated around a matrix of epic styles. More importantly, given its popular-folkloric nature, Carnival has become the privileged place for the national popular epic. If the establishment of a new civilization (the referent of all epic discourses) that is national, democratic, and popular must include among its objectives the appropriation of history and national culture, Carnival contributes the pastiche, parody, and satire to this end. Each year, Carnival creates and employs a discourse that appropriates history, national space, values, and heroes. Moving beyond pastiche, parody, and satire, Carnival becomes a mechanism for the enunciation of the national popular narrative. Thus an interpretation of the theater of the tablado does not support a clear distinction between the epic discourse and the carnivalesque discourse with preestablished and opposing or contradictory meanings, tools, and functions. In any case, however, oppositions as well as entanglements and parallels can be found among the many diverse classes of carnivalesque and epic discourses that exist at any moment. The carnivalesque-epic discourse is therefore not a contradiction in terms, but a discursive organization in which the epic thread makes it possible for participants to articulate and affirm their interests, the order and meaning of their social and historical experiences, while the carnivalesque tensions assure the necessary self-criticism, regeneration, assembly, debate, diversity, collective negotiation, and popular agency. The degree of Carnival’s inclusivity and discursive articulation will depend, finally, on whether the parody and burlesque are received with seriousness or with simple laughter at the carnivalesque epic.

– Conclusion –

From the Garden of the Comparsas if you are between returning and not returning if you’ve already put too much up your nose if your heart stops if you feel no connection with others throw a line down to earth if you are like a ship in high seas if you are about to blow up your brains if there is nothing to dull your pain if you don’t reach out, if you can’t see me throw a line down to earth — Cable a tierra, Fito Páez

The murgas do not advance an erratic sensibility marked by defeat, confusion, disorientation, disbelief, amnesia, the loss of historical, ethical, or political referents or the meaning of history and life, the inability to discern (to escape the seduction of appearances, the truculent character of languages, the cobwebs of television’s fantastic world), and the incapacity to universalize, make links, and establish continuities. Instead they offer a set of certainties and fundamental, identifying referents for a pending mobilization toward sociopolitical emancipation. This context is critical to understanding the presence and recurrent reunion in which people convene around the murgas, where they meet face to face in order to examine and interrogate each other, evaluate their current conditions, identify future tasks, objectives, obstacles, and pathways. Equally significant, and to some degree redundant, is the need to understand the murgas’ proposal of ratification, promotion, and demand for human rights, dignity, justice, social responsibility, solidarity, and cooperation. Alternately heroic and romantic, the murga always encourages a popular historical memory, a spatial and historical totality of the national popular experience, and a return or achievement of certain values, all of which are fundamental to the processes of giving life meaning, justifying transformational social agencies, providing a minimum of faith and spiritual energy, and reestablishing a sense of the necessary and the possible. 177

178 / Conclusion Late modernity and the simultaneous disillusion with its advance fill many with frustration, resignation, confusion, paralysis, animosity, and deception, prevent certainty, ethical, and aesthetic values and the most basic rights, and disparage the instruments used to fight for justice without replacing them with more effective tools. To turn attention to the murgas is to support a constructive effort. First, the analysis of the murga represents a new tendency within cultural and aesthetic criticism. Second, it contributes to the elaboration of a possible emancipation project, a new sensibility and new social agencies charged with this mission. In the Forum “La caída de los ‘socialismos reales’: El debate que la izquierda se debía” (The fall of “real socialisms”: The debate that the left owed itself”) organized by Brecha in April 1992, the journal editor Hugo Alfaro dedicated most of his closing allocution to the need to renovate the culture of the left, primarily through a new position with respect to popular cultural practices such as the murgas, soccer, jazz, and national rock. He argued that the leftist intellectual class looked with indifference and disdain at these practices and noted that few members of this class attended the murgas’ performances. My early, initial interest in Carnival was more visceral and unconscious than the later, more academic interest in contributing to Latin American cultural studies. At first, I wanted to protect and reaffirm my own cultural referents, confirm that my referents of identity were shared by one or more contemporary generations in the last few decades. In some way, theorizing and revaluing these referents signified the vindication of a stage and a facet of Uruguayan cultural identity, perhaps the principal facet, articulated in the real and symbolic presence of the murgas. The absence of any intellectual consideration of these and other popular-national cultural practices, the academic tendency to underestimate and disparage these processes, and the efforts to excuse these omissions have only reaffirmed that literary criticism and related disciplines arc lacking, myopic, or otherwise dysfunctional. At times this is a result of their ways of seeing (or not seeing) things. At other moments, the dysfunction is a result of the use of inappropriate theoretical and methodological procedures and tools. Finally, it is sometimes a product of the neoscholasticism upheld by opportunist or corporatist conventions, concerns, and imperatives, and the criteria of packaging and marketing institutionalized by the academic routine. National culture fades away between the lines and in the cracks and margins of academic work, the same white spaces and silences that we found in the yellow press of the dictatorship. In response to this negligence and deceit, I suggest a change in the interpretive paradigm that directs attention to the processes of the last twenty years and, in particular, the aesthetic experience and the symbolic production of the popular transculturators, “the new troubadours,”

Conclusion / 179

in the popular public sphere. This change would reconstruct, document, problematize, and propose possible meanings of the ensemble of practices and experiences that, for better or worse, have occupied, equipped (with concepts, values, concerns, sensibilities, words), and constructed us within our various social subjectivities. As we looked at the social and symbolic meanings and roles of street theater and the murgas, the sensibility and existential drama of late modernity appeared to be strained by a series of oppositional and affirming gestures, attitudes, and narratives, the stabilizers of a dynamic identity, and producers of enclaves of resistance. Today those communities of struggle, whether they were able to prosper or were defeated, attest to a desire for freedom, the will to maintain reason, rescue human rights, define tasks, and coordinate efforts toward a social transformation that transcends the current (dis)order. Nevertheless, as this work is intended to convey, the murgas are not exempt from internal conflicts, violent contradictions or twists, and even, in spite of their characteristic recurrence, periods of rise and decline, stagnation and vitality, exclusivity and inclusivity, all of which determines their status as the alephs of national culture; and from here, their ability to visualize and capture the sensibilities and expressions in circulation at national and popular levels. It is important to add that, rather than trying to conclude or exhaust the critique of popular culture of carnivalesque theater, this work is intended to stimulate the opposite. That is, I hope to encourage further studies of our popular national culture not only because an enormous vacuum exists but also because such studies illuminate the real and symbolic changes occurring in the world and in the diverse disciplines of the humanities and social sciences, not only in literature and theater but also in history, anthropology, sociology, political science, economics, geography, and urban studies. In any case, it is clear that the murgas are not the only cultural practices that occur in the popular public sphere and the murguistas are not the only popular transculturators. In spite of the murgas’ unique centrality and cohesive ability to reflect a wide array of social subjectivities and sensibilities, other cultural practices of the popular public sphere merit serious reflection within semiotic, ideological, and aesthetic interpretations. For example, the institutions and rituals of urban life, the situations and routines of everyday life, national rock, clandestine radio broadcasts, political and religious dramas, and culinary or sexual practices all await further analysis. Rather than invalidating the need for a transformation of the hermenuetic paradigm of national culture and a new critical tendency, cultural studies of this type will reinforce that need and accelerate long-awaited social and cultural changes.

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– Appendix –

Librettos of Principal Murgas from the Montevideo Carnival, 1988 Araca la Cana Falta y resto La reina de la Teja Los diablos verdes Los saltimbanquis Don Timoteo Anti-murga BCG Notes on the Research Strategy, the Librettos, and the Selection To change the focus as well as the way of interpreting national culture by situating oneself within the cultural practices of the popular public sphere implies a change in the strategy of investigation. The methodology needed is closer to the kind of fieldwork and participatory observation used in ethnography and the sociology of everyday life than to the traditional research methods of literary criticism. With few exceptions, academics cannot have access to the popular public sphere unless they employ the former approaches. For example, in order to get a hold of the murgas’ librettos for reprinting, I had to look for them at the tablados and wait for the arrival of the particular murga whose performance and libretto interested me. Similarly, these texts can be understood only in relation to the spectacle, the national and contemporary carnivalesque symbolic universe, the historical-political context within which they function, and the social and aesthetic experience of the stage. This final section contains an ensemble of librettos collected at the tablados. Their inclusion is intended to provide textual support to the interpretations and proposed meanings formulated in this work. I also 181

182 / Appendix hope that they will be kept in circulation for further consideration and analysis. Doubtless the selections represent only a partial display of the murgas’ representations. They represent the synchronic cross-section that I carried out in 1988 and thus should not be understood as a historical sequence. Also, the ensemble does not include all thirty-seven murga representations of 1988, or even the fourteen librettos that I was able to collect; it is, instead, a representative selection. In spite of the documentary value of collecting all the texts, such a task is very difficult for one person and would require the labor of an entire team. Thus I chose to work with a selected number, a minimum that represents a greater, more heterogeneous and complex totality, and includes the different tendencies and principal types of murgas. With respect to the dates of the selection and research, 1988 was the year in which, after deciding to study the murgas and contemporary Carnival, I traveled to Montevideo, visited rehearsals and late-night meetings at the bars and canteens (“after the last tablado”), interviewed lyricists and directors, attended performances, made audio and visual recordings, collected librettos, and located related documents, books, and articles, all of which became the raw material of this work. In 1990 I returned to visit and converse with lyricists, directors, and others tied to Carnival or interested in reflecting on Carnival and popular culture in general.

The Librettos and the Tablados The librettos are rather elusive. They are considered a source of financing rather than diffusion, and thus are perishable, transitory, and disposable objects. It is almost impossible to find entire collections of librettos, or collections from past years. From outside of Montevideo and Uruguay it is nearly impossible to acquire the texts without actually traveling or enlisting others to obtain and send them. In general, one must buy the librettos during the performances themselves. Therefore, the seller of librettos circulating through the crowds at Carnival is the only source. These librettos are printed in relatively small numbers and are quickly dispersed and lost. Those that are sent to various state archives (the National Library, Montevideo’s Division of Tourism, the Association of Authors, Police Headquarters) are lost, misplaced, or simply inaccessible because of the bureaucratic and administrative problems of these institutions. Therefore, I have never been able to access a complete or partial collection of murga librettos corresponding to any given year. This was the state of things up through 1991, when I concluded my research. It is in this context that we must appreciate the great value of printed and/or famous librettos and retiradas, such as the selection that appeared in Juan Capagorry and Nelson Domínguez’s La Murga (1984) and the examples

Librettos of Principal Murgas / 183

of introductions, couplets, potpourris, and retiradas included in Gustavo Diverso’s Murga, la representación del carnaval (1989). The librettos sold around the street stages use the format of a small journal. They are printed on cheap paper and are full of notices and inserts. They also include the lyrics, of course, along with technical information, the names of participants and their roles, dedications, acknowledgments, objectives, and the names of the Honor Commission members. Occasionally they display photos and brief notes on Carnival or the history of the murga. As stated above, the librettos serve both intellectual and economic purposes. They are intellectual because they offer the possibility to read the complete text of the performance, which is particularly meaningful since the events omit certain couplets in order to attract the public more than once and the textuality itself contributes to the spectacle’s reception. Economically, they offer the occasion to sell advertising spaces in order to finance the murgas. While many advertisers use the librettos simply to enhance their own profits, many want to show their solidarity with and support for the murga itself in addition to or in lieu of economic gain. The libretto documents only one part of the representation; that is, it is a register of the lyrics that does not attempt to represent the music, rhythm, costuming, movement, choreography, gestures, interactions between the murga and the audience, or ambience of the spectacle. All these nonliterary aspects complete, determine, and provide the murga’s meaning; they make it possible for a verse, word, or stanza with “weak meaning” to acquire “deep meaning,” for words to take on double entendres and specified, intentional meanings. Since the written lyrics cannot fully represent the spectacles, their reception depends on whether the reader of the libretto can reconstruct or imagine what is lost in the transcription of the spectacle and, ultimately, the murguista discourse in its totality and unity. Often the written texts are insufficient, insipid, or obscure. In these cases, analysis calls for attendance and/or videotaping the spectacles so that the production is accessible. The libretto does not reflect, at least not on its surface, the entire social and historical context. Nor does it inform readers about the sensibilities of the particular Carnival audiences, the differences between the different stages and their audiences, or how all of this affects and modifies the symbolic offering, reception, meaning, and function of the spectacle. In general, the libretto is a frozen product; that is, it contains the lyrics written prior to the performances, the version submitted to the censors, and does not register the modifications and adjustments made at the last moment or throughout the extension of Carnival, with each performance

184 / Appendix and each audience’s reception. In addition, there is a distance between the textual and the performed scenes, a product of constant revision and the degrees of improvisation permitted by the genre. Finally, the libretto can offer a poor interpretation of the spectacle because, aside from the Summer Theater presentations, all the staged performances are partial. The final product is always more or less altered from its original version. In spite of these caveats, the librettos register a significant aspect of our national culture. Used with caution, they allow students to reconstruct the Carnival spectacle and the sensibilities, dramas, and concerns of the popular public sphere. From there, they permit further interpretation and criticism of national culture.

The Representation of Murgas in This Selection The following selection, partial but representative of a synchronic, heterogeneous, and complex totality, offers the librettos of murgas that are famous and not so famous, beloved and not so beloved, adored by some and rejected by others, murgas with more than fifty years of history and others that emerged for the first time in the 1980s, murgas that won first prize in the official contest and others that were not honored and were disqualified by the judges. Referring to categories already explained in previous sections, some of the murgas represent the wellknown murgas-murgas and murgas pueblo. I have also included a libretto of the anti-murga. Some of the murgas represented here celebrate an Orthodox Momo, others celebrate a Dionysiac Momo, or a Biblical Momo. Some repeat and amplify reality without necessarily condemning it (the hyperrealists), and others question the foundations of that reality and aim to transform it. The murgas here reflect those limited to occasions of entertainment and others that narrate and sing the national epic, revive heroes and their historic deeds to accompany and lend support to popular struggles for a more humane, just, and unified society. The changing character of the murga (due to its disappearance and annual reappearance, annual changes of participants and circumstances), the hybrid, internally fragmented, and contradictory nature of the genre and the layers of masks and disguises are all obstacles to a straightforward classification system. Nevertheless, the prevalence of certain traits or frameworks in some murgas, albeit in variations, permits me to group the librettos into three basic representative blocks.

Librettos of Principal Murgas / 185

La reina de la Teja, Falta y resto, Araca la Cana, and Diablos verdes represent the carnivalesque epic discourse. The spectacle appears to question the grotesque, hegemonic sense of humor and search for a distinct sense of humor, eroticism, and sense of pleasure. The object of burlesque and the cause of laughter is the dominant class and dominant values or perhaps the foolishness of the popular classes, but with the spirit to overcome and not repeat them. At other moments, the laughter is sought as a way to surmount the grotesque self-parody of errors, horrors, and stupidities of the present and past. These murgas seek to question and invert reality, normalcy, and the hegemonic symbolic order as a complement to the struggle toward an inverted world conceived as a new civilization. The struggles and conquests in the plane of carnivalesque fantasy do not hide their farcical and illusory character. This implies that these battles should be extended beyond the symbolic space of Carnival, that is, to the spaces that are subjected to the laws that control real social and political experiences. The retiradas draw attention to the question of an effective transition from the imaginary to the real. They approximate the cults of the Absent God, the Wandering Murguista, the Phoenix Momo, and the Eschatological Momo. In a second group, Saltimbanquis and Don Timoteo correspond to the cult of Orthodox Momo who, I have claimed, promotes conformity, reaffirms reality, and perceives difference or change as negative. In general, these murgas generate a grotesque sense of humor, one that more often than not accepts, celebrates, and reproduces hegemonic sensibilities. The spectacles do not project an inverted, different, or alternative world or propose the necessity for a new order. In the few moments of inversion, the alternative order is presented as the transitional, laughable game of Carnival. With respect to epic-ness, the imaginary conquest of these murgas is reduced to a repetition of the hegemonic symbolic universe and the external power relations offered as a carnivalesque utopia: they offer up the official populist epic in disguise, with the people (the other) as the object of parody and burlesque. Finally, the Anti-murga BCG opposes and resists the repetition, formulism, contradictions, stagnation, and exhaustion possible in the genre and reflected by many other murgas and by Carnival in general. It is an irreverent, experimental, open, and inclusive type of murga. Thus it is more loyal to the wild and playful, even barbaric, Carnival of the nineteenth century and the Middle Ages. Its sensibility affirms life in a world that celebrates death; recuperates a materiality, nature, and corporality that have been adulterated, negated, or repressed; allows for a mundane, earthly, sensual, hedonistic, and pleasurable moment. This instance emerges as both a condemnation and affirmation of the passage from one cycle to another, an ambiguity found in the texts of Juan Ruiz, Rabelais,

186 / Appendix Cervantes, and Sor Juana Inés de la Cruz. The anti-murga pertains to the cult of Dionysiac Momo, who is open, chameleon-like, unpredictable, mysterious, and inconclusive. Its performances oppose the traditional uses of majestic costumes to represent the people-king, a fourth wall, the passivity of the public, the poverty of gestures, choreography, or instruments found in other murgas. While its carnivalesque epic-ness does not include the serious and monumental tone of the first group, it is an unstable, parodic variation of the other epic murgas. In comparison, the anti-murga opts for alienation rather than empathy. It is more festive and playful and encourages the viewers’ participation and more direct, corporeal, and seemingly “cruel” contact with the audience. Finally, it appears to be more gratuitous, anti-romantic, and anti-heroic. Nevertheless, the anti-murga also innovates the form to question dominant values and propose alternative values, a different sense of pleasure and a new civilizing order. For the anti-murga, that civilization is anticipated, celebrated, and gradually materialized in each Carnival festivity. Today’s revelry, however, is merely a precursor and a foreshadowing of “the True Celebration” that will crown “the Final Victory.” That conquest is still far off, as it cannot be other than the end product of protracted and continuous struggles within social, political, ideological, and cultural terrains.

Librettos of Principal Murgas / 187

ARACA LA CANA The Companion Murga (Ninth Prize, Official Contest, 1988) Members of the Araca la Cana Cooperative and Other Collaborators Costume designer

Elizabeth Vargas

Production

Agueda de Rambella

Hatmaker

Néstor Morán

Shoes

Fábrica de calzados Cachumba

Publicity

Myriam Silva, Daniel García, Rodolfo Alvarado

Props

Wenceslao Torres, Carlos Rodríguez, Roberto Anadon

Collaborator

Martín Panossian

Libretto preparation

Semanario Mate Amargo

Transportation

Star Tour Ltda.

Carnival representative

Santín Barbeit

Contraltos

Julio C. Pérez, Juan C. Rodríguez, Oscar Ernesto Lescano

Tenors

Rodolfo Castiglioni, Juan F. Pérez, Néstor Boiani, Eduardo A. Pérrez

Baritones

Pablo Santos Cravi, Daniel García, Poume, Rodolfo Alvarado

Basses

Elbio Rodríguez Machado, Walter O. Cortés Maritato

Drummers

Rubén D. Silva, Walter Ramos, Julio García Checa

General secretary

Myriam R. Silva

Producers

Lilian Silva, Fredy López

Choral arranger, lyricist, director

José María Silva (“Catusa”)

188 / Appendix ARACA LA CANA, Libretto, 1988 Greeting: Who Stole Our Laughter? Character 1 What are we going to do? Character 2 I don’t know. Character 1 But today is Carnival! Character 2 What does that matter to me? . . . It’s my soul that doesn’t want to respond, my pain that goes beyond my tears Character 1 Where did our laughter go? Our laughter! Will life conquer us? Character 2 The men stole it, they stole our laughter! Character 1 We should find it! Character 2 Ask them. Character 1 Ask who? Character 2 Ask them, the people. Did you steal our laughter? Character 1 No! the people would never take our smiles. Character 2 Then who? Character 1 I once learned that you must cry if others cry, if the murga laughs, one should laugh with it, not think, not even by mistake, why should you

if you survive by being the same, besides you run the risk of looking like a fool. The time I wanted to be good they laughed in my face when I shouted injustice the force silenced me. Character 2 The murga, the murga! Character 1 Maybe they have our laughter! Character 2 Perhaps! Or maybe we can find it together. Character 1 Even if we have to search the world over! Character 2 And we should plant it, until the earth gives birth to a smile! Character 1 We will steal it back if necessary, but no one should take away our joy! Character 2 Our people will have their Carnival! Characters 1 and 2 Our people will have their Carnival! Laugh, laugh, laugh because today is Carnival and the people will find their laughter Look, look, look I bring love here and in it you will find life Character 1 Hope is here; with us, in each of us Character 2 The circus of life draws smiles that do not exist, smiles that we are forced to paint on our faces.

Librettos of Principal Murgas / 189 Character 1 Perhaps some day, we will find the true smile and we will laugh forever everyone will laugh! Character 2 And the circus will have no owner. Character 1 And there will be no more puppeteers. Character 2 And everyone will be what he wants to be. Character 1 And everyone will have her own laughter. Chorus Laugh, clown, laugh because the child knows no despair laugh because man moves toward new suns where the soul lives Laugh for yourself and for us laugh because man advances laugh because after the wind that destroys everything there is calm Laugh, clown, laugh you give birth to the smile like summer flowers that dream your nights and adorn the plazas

you’ll see that the world will have no owner Life is yours fight for it laugh, clown like a star that flies freely laugh, clown like the wind Rat-a-tat-tat Rat-a-tat-tin the one who doesn’t jump is a civilian Commissioner Good evening friends Scribe Good evening friends Character 1 Hey Commissioner, what are you doing here? Character 2 But you’re crazy! Do you want to do last year’s couplet again? Scribe We’re on strike, brother Commissioner Right Character 1 What kind of strike?

Look, look, look how the smile returns see yourself in the people how hope grows Look at yourself in their hands they have the answer look in their struggle you will find greatness

Scribe One with our pistols laid down

You see that the man is bleeding but the land is germinating each night and in each dream

Commissioner Che Yesman, tell him where you put the stick

Commissioner You mean your pistols were spent and limp, fool Character 1 Oh yes, and the stick?

190 / Appendix Scribe Tell him? Commissioner Yes, and no more! Scribe And if it goes on? Commissioner Teru teru to those in control I had to sell the bullets and change two kilos of potatoes for the sash and cartridge belt Scribe They got a new minister he comes from the old school we like the rapists as much as Leonela Commissioner Teru teru to those in power to the sweet talkers to those who exploit us . . . Scribe . . . very good for our friend. Commissioner Friends, we want social justice; and to make public opinion known, our working friends are of service in an emergency; thus we ask our friends the thieves, please do not call them scabs. Character 1 Move away from me now, dear. Character 2 Enough chatter; we are too clownish, I need to get rid of them, dear mama. Chorus The fundamental reason for our song is the laugh abandoned at the threshold begging in the streets for a smile between dreams that forgot Carnival

In the circus of life we all wear costumes like beasts without love we see faces that are not real and we forget the flower’s perfume We are foolish lyricists of this world we look for joy everywhere and to God, Momo, manager of our desires we will tell Him that Carnival has arrived Clown, come, we’ll find your laughter we’ll rummage in the dirt and beyond to see that your reason has become like a child’s and on his face the smile is real.

Couplet “Beating Don Chicote” Chorus In this sacred place where so many come the cowards become strong and the valiant leave And brave Don Chicote who condemns the cowards will come before Pancho who went to flush his toilet We call this couplet Beating Don Chicote be strong, but hold back forgive us if we splash Pancho Chicote Chicote Pancho they come to Carnival from the depths of time because we will all dream and together we’ll ride to Momo for the nights of minstrel. Pancho Do you know your highness? Do you know him? If not, you should be ashamed of your ignorance

Librettos of Principal Murgas / 191 Chicote What are you saying, my dear Pancho? Pancho I was saying who your worship is Chicote Tell me, faithful servant! Why have you followed me? Pancho For the beer, my master. Do you know that everyone knows of your deeds in La Mancha? Chicote And I’m sure they also remember those of Monte Cúdine Pancho Was that where the Kight of the White Moon with his sausage sauce took your honor? Chicote And . . . we were so poor . . . Chorus You see, Chicote is a knight who came with Pancho, his servant he thinks he is enchanted and walks the world like a dreamer

Che Catusa stop your joking you want the jury to screw us again Windmill My, what a filthy mouth! Catusa Who are you? Are you a windmill perhaps? Windmill Not if I am going to be a fan Catusa Your insolence threatens my chivalry! You are sullying my reputation!3 Windmill My, what a filthy mouth! Pancho Rocinante awaits your worship, to carry you to Dulcinea’s arms Chicote Illuminate the grace of my desires, dear servant Pancho There, my lord, you will find life at her breast. Windmill My, what a filthy mouth!

Don’t be confused, not for a moment no one sent us for the external debt because you have lackey ministers who pay on time, pimps that they are

Chicote I go, I go, I go!4

Now that we brought the windmill Pancho is right to be confused this year, Wilson1 does not come we will not invite him to the party we won’t bring Goyo2 he is such a spectacle Che Catusa Che Catusa stop your joking your texts are not the sacred ones surely you will bring us trouble with such denouncements

Chorus He goes, he goes, he goes Scribe Don Chicote goes in search of his great love he is enchanted by a sweet dream that invaded the depths of his heart Perhaps he will return with passion and the most beautiful damsel of the land riding on the roads of illusion he must find love

Pancho I hope it’s painless, my lord

192 / Appendix Tota They call me fat Tota of Araca for your waist I freed myself, I freed myself, I am Tota for my waist Why does the president always smile sir I always see him showing everyone his happy smile Why does the shantytown grow if he promised to give them a hand why is his smile happy if he sees my brothers’ misery Why does he want to privatize to keep selling without conscience why does he laugh, tell us Che Catusa while independence slips away Pucheta Filth, degenerate! Tota, one gets tired of being a female “object”! Tota And used up. Pucheta In disuse, Tota. I pardon you Tota, because you are good, even if you are filthy, with dirty underwear, loose with your body, all in ruins, they say yet you still have such a kind heart! Chorus Pucheta and Tota (refrain) They cannot live anymore they are such riffraff they don’t let us sleep Have you seen Tota how much she mentions you Julio María5 is having the time of his life Everyone calls him “Luis the rooster”6

because he alone sells the country They also call him something else, the leech,7 or the “Farolera” Because if he passes a barracks he gives a colonel a promotion8 Chicote Stop, stop, you tendentious henchmen listen to my heartbeat and tremble before my impatience Pucheta It’s that Tota, that degenerate Tota Tell me, Pucheta; you who are so ardent Pucheta Like yesterday’s pizza, reheated Tota When you make love, do you talk to your husband? Pucheta If there’s a phone nearby Chicote Listen to me, my lady, finally I have found you Tota I am Dulcinea, come here, scrawny! Chicote Come, my lady, for I need your favors! Tota I am all yours, scrawny, . . . and free! You are my Dulcinea I want to give you my life [addressing himself]

Librettos of Principal Murgas / 193 you better use a condom AIDS is so fierce I will give you my love a beautiful serenade you can’t offer anything you have the plim plim of tin

Pancho And so we have it! Here is the windmill. Turn, windmill, turn. Windmill And . . . I do it because it gives me results, otherwise I wouldn’t do it.

My knight’s heart is exploding with rage a hundred years of wearing armor I wonder about the state of his underwear

Pancho And here we have Chicote of the Mancha also known as the Lone Ranger because he rides only with silver. And now, seconds out!

With my trusty horse Rocinante I walk the world alone as much as he loves Rocinante it seems to me Chicote is a fairy

All: Seconds again! Oh, please, no.

Chicote I tolerate no more of your arrogance, I challenge you to a duel in defense of dignity

Pardon him, Lord this is a farsant with a Ph.D. in stories bringing your recipes

Windmill Don’t behave like Goyo or else I will break you.

Pardon him, Lord this merchant who sells your words like a trader.

Pancho Lovely, lovely; the dispute will begin.9 Windmill Oh my, what a filthy mouth! Pancho We will channel ourselves with the Cori Network and mourn deeply because, being in the midst of this conflict, our friends of the radio patrol cannot transmit tonight. The effort of the competitors is impressive; and we meet the challenger on the path, ready to fight to the death. Tota Thank God!

Pancho Chicote fell and Tota is counting

Jerry Falwell And God came, and he told us here in his sacred writings, that when we came to the temple of Momo, we came to receive his word. Alleluia to God! All ALLELUIA Jerry Falwell And today we have the testimony of our brothers from Araca la Cana who sit here, in the temple and gather the word of the lord. Alleluia to God! All ALLELUIA

194 / Appendix Jerry Falwell Sing, brothers, the lord’s scriptures Careful president, a while ago we knew that you were acting because here is God, denouncing, careful, the people are watching you careful, Marchesano, and your bloodhounds in jail for thinking you have three prisoners because here is God, denouncing Careful, gentlemen of the jury, do not repeat what happened last year because here is God, denouncing careful, the people are watching you Jerry Falwell Praised be that man who leaves behind vice, alcohol, tobacco, drugs, pornography, who leaves behind Pacheco Areco. Alleluia to God All ALLELUIA Jerry Falwell If a man tortures his brother and afterward kills himself, can you redeem his soul? No, he is not redeemed. But at least it’s something. Alleluia to Mr. Catusa. Jerry Falwell And now brother Windmill will testify to a miracle, “yes, to a miracle!” come forward, brother Windmill. Windmill A woman places an ad in the paper, seeking a man who is brave, bold, and virile; the person that meets these conditions should send a letter to a postal box or present himself personally. A brother with no arms or legs answers the ad personally. The woman says to him, and you

are brave? If it seems that I am not brave, I lost my legs and arms in the Vietnam War. You are bold? If it seems that I am not bold, I lost my legs and arms in the Vietnam War. Are you virile? How do you think I rang the doorbell? Jerry Falwell Alleluia, alleluia to the gentleman of the doorbell. All ALLELUIA Jerry Falwell What is the man who does not drink, does not smoke, gamble, or lust after his neighbor’s wife? What is that man? Windmill An idiot. All ALLELUIA Jerry Falwell Yes, an idiot. Let us pray for those idiots who have opened their hearts to the word of God; pray for those insensitive men who closed the National Railroad Company, who will close the National Fishing Company, and who will sell the people’s patrimony. Let us pray; in the name of the executive power, the bank, and the International Monetary Fund; okay. Chicote You see, my charms have left and with the end of this function, my quixotic life is over, so I leave you, this is my death. Chorus You, Quixote, on this day will be your reason has not overcome your dreams

Librettos of Principal Murgas / 195 you will see that together we can do it and the peoples will sing in freedom

Nafalda Good evening to all the children and their parents

I want to sing I want to laugh to not see the miseries of this world I want to fly I want to reach the love of the greatest depth

Character 1 What’s up, Nafalda, did you bring a Juda?

We want to know who has dreamed we want a reason without tricks we want a whole new path we want all our hope Chicote I leave you my most precious legacy; in my death, take my reason. I leave you the faith that I wanted for you and the love I have planted everywhere is also yours. Fight without fainting, history will discover us and you will find the prize of glory!

Nafalda’s Potpourri Chorus Ladies and Gentlemen soon you will see Nafalda, who comes singing Nafalda is a girl who dreams for everyone who dreams for everyone for you too Nafalda tells you Araca la Cana Find your path good people look for yourselves in history and you will find glory Let our people sing it let our people say it because Araca sings in search of joy Today our people are singing in search of joy.

Nafalda To Judas Character 1 The Judas Nafalda To Judas Character 1 To the Judas Nafalda To Judas, don’t you see? Character 1 Fine, Nafalda, and what brings you to Carnival? Nafalda I came to see my little friends, the children, and to sing with you We are going to conjugate the verb to veto with this government anyone can let’s veto a little veto here, a little veto there and this democracy goes to hell let’s veto the government is a business sung and in cash Nafalda with her love only wants to sing with the companion murga she comes from the Paso Molino as a companion It was notorious, you remember the Pope’s visit he was very delayed in coming but he finally saw us on the map

196 / Appendix If there really is a God I ask you don’t let more blood spill God save the miserable of the world and the hungry children Presidents arrived here from every nation they invite them, they ask them for money later in search of solutions The country will not be fixed, you’ll see only asking for help we seem like beggars who ask for money for Judas The president also told us that the country has advanced that we pay the debt on time that there has been progress It’s true what the man says with his sonorous voice to make the country advance he put the clock forward Araca Araca Araca goes on criticizing it recalls the zoo start thinking

Araca is the song of the Latin American On Yaguarón Street in the orphanage nine girls burned revealing their pains Many girls and one pain with a battered heart that Judas, so insensitive to the child and her rights At the Council of the Child [Orphanage], there, too, at Treinta y Tres they mistreated the children they went to trial So that they would drink the soup they tortured them, it’s no joke they showed them a photo of fat Adela in a thong AIDS is a big problem it has shaken the world the homosexuals walk around in terror Use rubbers the television says use condoms, they say even to go hunting

The monkey had a little bread and the tiger took it the giraffe stole it and the hippo got upset

The song is thus, you see how difficult it is to dream love but you will see that behind the pain Araca la Cana will find a flower

the parakeet grabbed it and the bear, who was a ruffian, the parrot and the elephant said that the guard ate it

Once again the Home Loan Bank has thrown their hopes into the ditch you save by making a thousand sacrifices while the adjudication of your house sleeps in a drawer

Araca Araca Araca goes on criticizing men and animals suffer they are fighting for bread Like the people that I am, I am, I am, I give you my hand

He who has godparents, my friend will surely not die without faith don’t let yourself be deceived by Judas because he manages your hopes

Librettos of Principal Murgas / 197 Mr. Norberto Sanguinetti gave no Christmas bonus to the old folks because he said that they misspent buying pudding, pastries and suckling pig

Character 1 Well, Nafalda, don’t get sad, someday the people will have justice.

What cynicism, gentlemen, what a shame and if you are retired you’ll know what Judas keeps your money waiting for you to die and collect no more

Character 1 Well, you have to calm down.

Tons of sugar went missing The Town Hall informed the press that gluttonous ants ate it, and not a kilo remained

I am a rebel because mankind has made me so it has robbed me of the illusion of happiness I have begged, without finding God

What happens is that all the fat men order the sugar to be left behind surely some go-between stole it so that the mayor will stop getting fat

and I would like to be like that child who lit the star of Bethlehem

And the war continues among the TV channels they brought sitcoms to instigate and compete with the soap operas, we doubt their quality The best soap opera that we saw, and we’ll get an encore for sure, was undoubtedly the president’s performance, it should have been at the Solís Theater The hospitals, gentlemen, what a shame they don’t even have any cotton gauze my people’s health is in danger if our government offers no solution I am tired of so many problems I only want to play but the kids are right because of Judas I can’t dream

Nafalda No, I am not sad, I am enraged.

Nafalda I can’t calm down while I see that Judas washes his hands with the sweat of my people.

and I would like to be a child Jesus who does not end up on the cross so to be able to give love and thus live without pain Let’s begin by loving each other by feeling more humane to generate in the seed our brother’s bread Let’s begin in the mud slowly simmering our dreams together, without letting our hands end up with owners Let’s begin with tenderness and if you’ve never loved each morning you will give birth to the love that you’ve dreamed

Farewell to My People’s General Listen in silence he will tell us the story of my people’s general who left us his memoirs

198 / Appendix We’ll travel through time until we find him he might be anywhere but he always returns The ideal that he planted proudly stands in the springs and lives here in my little country flowering in the wheat fields Boy If you knew, my General, that they have offended your memory, they have shielded themselves with your name to trample on liberty. Oh, if you were alive! . . . You would be trembling with rage at your own thought. General They’re trembling, my little compatriot Boy I was sure, sir, that you would look after our disgraces; that your liberating idea would be beyond life. General For this, they’re trembling, little compatriot. Their worst enemy is the lack of dignity in their own acts. Boy The governors have forgotten that their authority stems from the people and ends in front of the people, they destroy the very essence of your ideas, starving the people, like obedient functionaries of foreign capital, they mortgage our independence. Boy They should not have sold the rich patrimony of the Uruguayans at the low price of need. Chorus We’ll retrace your steps among books and biographies

in the live pages where hope sings We’ll get back the life that breathes in the ceiba forest that tells us of the depth of time in the East Bank. Boy General, history tells that your struggle for Uruguay was never dominated by the ambition to garner some rank or post General So it is compatriot, I only fought for my people, or your forget that even in my condition as a military officer I wrote in the Instructions of 1813 that military despotism would be annihilated with constitutional measures that assured the inviolable sovereignty of the peoples. Boy And you see, General, our soldiers have forgotten your historic thinking, sullying our institutions and castrating freedom at its roots. General Justice is not merely an instrument at the service of military officers, it belongs exclusively to the people who will always be the ones to decide. Chorus The prophetic bird will come to reestablish the flight to magnify, singing the fervor of our soil. General The consequences are clear: all those guilty of opprobrium, whose irrational conduct followed their base instincts, they deserve punishment, and should be subjected to a popular

Librettos of Principal Murgas / 199 and irreversible verdict. Justice will be above all other forms, as an example of irreplaceable equality. Boy and General Justice as a form of irreplaceable equality. Chorus Justice as a form of irreplaceable equality. Echoes of a fertile history of glory repeat your name. Oh, Don José! The General always lives among our souls, in the greatest depths And if in your country justice does not exist He will have fought in vain No, no, no, my people my people, so beloved no, no, no, don’t forget that Mariana didn’t return And we promise to steal the silences and give you life in each song Until we know that this land is ours and there will be no assassins of love Where will you go, soldier, where will you go Your bloodied hands where will you hide them You forgot that the General told you about the country you tortured my people just for thinking You made new prisons to contain the minstrel and today you live among shadows your dignity lost The one who bought your conscience with the most vile currency

owns your hands and governs your rifle What will you tell your children when they want to know the reason for the hate that goes everywhere with you, the hate that stole your heart There will be no place in the land to hide the pain that you cultivated in my people, killing their love Recitation Where will you go . . . where will you hide your hands that scream the truth? And the rifle that will continue to fire in your conscience? And the hate that you clung to while trampling on our freedom? You went to the judge, the executioner, and now you must pay, like those who create evil must always pay those who subordinate the people just for being people, nothing more Chorus Araca la Cana sings as it will always sing because it knows your owner, he will also pay The justice of my people will reach everyone until we see a new country and dream once again Peace . . . where will you go Justice for humanity will surely reach you you will scream your innocence Simón will discover you

200 / Appendix You persecuted your brother you forgot the truth you robbed my people of their song of freedom And today they wait in the shadows for the final verdict

you will hide in vain, the sun will give you up Where will you go, soldier, where will you go END

Librettos of Principal Murgas / 201

FALTA Y RESTO The Murga of the Four Seasons (First Prize, Official Contest, 1988) Objectives of Falta y resto 1988: (1) Song and struggle for the Plebiscite (2) A locale of their own Thanks to the friends at the Postal Union Costume designer

Julio Martínez

Costume maker

Esther

Hats

Néstor Morán

Choreography

Quito Pérez

Librettos

Jorge Pereira “Oreja”

Corrections

Rosario

Props

Marcos Martínez, Marcelo Ortiz, Daniel Tabar “Lesmeyun”

Transportation

José Pereiro “Gitano”

Bass drum, chorus, third

Fredy Bessio “Zurdito”

Cymbals

Andrés Lijmaer “Baba”

Musical arrangements, guitar

Jorge Lazaroff “Choncho”

Side drum, pans, cowbell tambourine, cymbal

Ronald Arismendi “Chirola”

Chorus, soloist, guitar

Daniel Pereira “Yaya”

Choral director

Hugo Brocos

Chorus, accordion, guitar

Fernando de Moraes “Leonela”

Chorus, actor, soloist

Carlos Ballaque “Negro”

Chorus, actor, soloist

Alfredo Araquistain “Gallego”

Chorus

Jorge Todeschini “Gallo”

Chorus, soloist, melodic, actor

Pablo Routin “Pinocho”

Chorus, soloist, actor

Julio Sánchez “Kriptonita”

Chorus, soloist

Manuel Suárez “Pirulo”

Chorus, soloist, guitar

Hugo Adamoli “Chupete”

Chorus, soloist, guitar

Maorikyen “Peineta”

Chorus, soloist

Washington Hoaguy “Tony”

Chorus, soloist

Daniel Carluccio “Nube”

Chorus, soloist

Jorge Calleros “Cabeza”

Chorus

Pedro Panaro “Peter”

Chorus, soloist, lyricist director

Raúl Castro “Tinta (Brava)”

Scenic director, choral arrangements

Eduardo Lombardo “Pitufo”

202 / Appendix FALTA Y RESTO, Libretto, 1988 Introduction The Murga Returns from the cold, hard silence She always returns! Suffers, shouts, smiles with her people Always! With each new song she risks her life Yet she always fights! From the greeting to the farewell, Listen! It’s here! our hearts bursting with joy more than a murga, a waterfall of passion It’s Falta y resto! Falta raises its song. In colors, Falta dresses in colors Momo awakes when February comes in colors, the faces are painted in colors Carnival-goers fill the trucks in colors, their garlands of many colors give their precious light to the neighborhood, and singers wearing many colors elevate their immortal cry in the murga key Falta y resto is reborn singing, painting Carnival with many colors. Recitation The shameless murga arrived late, always in a hurry, but this time it brings among the masks the awaited formula It brings . . . shhh . . . the recipe the secret formula for making . . . a girl grandma and grandpa

have known it for a while you who have little girls already know the song it is the magic recipe: how to make a girl listen carefully Falta will tell you in its introduction. Murga With only three little drops of perfume and the sweet ice-cream cone with two or three blue balloons and the simple lights of the Carnival stage with a few grams of tenderness and four red rose petals a band-aid on the little finger and a small, fragile butterfly. With the blue dew of the stars and the wind blown from infinity with the shades of a Torres García a colored pencil and a little mirror. (Someone or some Characters begin to hum the tune “Manuelita” for a few bars . . . ) Recitation Letting all of this rest in the moonlight you will make a little girl They are the loveliest things on Earth They are fragile crystals, strong like iron that with only one tear soften any hardened heart because no one resists a request accompanied by all the tenderness of a wet kiss. Now you only have to decide what she will be named, and, while you choose, remember that she is a daughter, a granddaughter, and a sister,

Librettos of Principal Murgas / 203 and if, while looking for her name you feel that a cry calls you you can call her Mariana.1 Murga Mariana, sweet Mariana child of sun and wheat you feel a cry calling you [cry and gesture that calls] Mariana Mariana always Mariana child of bread and seas in your name, I feel your absence [cry and gesture that calls] Mariana The Murga returns from the cold, hard silence, she returns with each new song she risks her life Listen She’s here her heart bursting with joy more than a murga, a waterfall of passion. La Falta Mariana lift up your song.

Potpourri of the “I Don’t Trust” Game Recitation Do you like cards? No, I don’t mean love letters I speak of playing cards please, don’t become the knave! What do you think, ma’am, should we play “I don’t trust”? Do you remember? inviting two cards to sing with the chorus on one side the joker and on the other the ace of gold. With this hot little rhythm we will suspect many things the golden ace, dirty treasure comes with force to sing.

Murga Refrain: I don’t trust, you don’t trust, he doesn’t trust no one trusts except the sister of “The Rabbit” trust left her pregnant A few months ago in Argentina with the Doctine of National Security in congress, the military mortgaged the country’s freedom. If the president assures us, democracy is consolidated and he named Medina as minister that foul sea bass. (refrain) Liberators for the Peñarol fans2 with a great goal of the great Diego goal and there in the Andes we are consecrated all celebrate the great champion. We become brothers of the Chileans the Colombians fell this time our joy will be complete when the one who falls is Pinochet. (refrain) The student elections publicized on television cause protests on all sides and shake the population. The Colorados, politicking spend millions to confine the alpaca but they are surprised when asceep-feuu beats them to a pulp. (refrain) Millor pursues the young he wants to punish them with his project to imprison them, shut away so that they don’t bother society. It’s very strange

204 / Appendix that Pacheco’s right-hand man wants bars for a poor minor while he defends a military officer, a torturer, to the death. (refrain) In Nicaragua, free and brave a people fight a bloody war and before the mercenary’s attack the heroic revolution triumphs. Ronald Reagan, great bandit tells the world, I am a pacifist, while he sends 100 million dollars to the fascists. (refrain) The Colorados stop the trains leaving many without transport entire communities are isolated we don’t understand the decision. It is very clear, the oligarchs who are not the train passengers buy their supermodern cars with the money they robbed. (refrain) Ease up boys with so much mistrust about Falta trusts this entire vicinity all those heads of white hair and all the neighborhood kids Because we learned from you and there’s something that confirms it they taught us trust more than 600,000 signatures. My people also have confidence in ultimate justice and that in the end the guilty will pay for their crimes and all those who do not believe this will continue on,

perhaps like the ace of gold,3 with all its filth My people believe

Couplet of Power To continue, gentlemen you will now hear a couplet that is not about seeing ogres or chasing ghosts it is a couplet of a murga, only a little clownish trick. They are Carnival tricks a murga, nothing more please do not complicate it we ask that if you criticize have some piety ah . . . and any similarities are pure coincidence. Why do we go to sing the couplet? It can’t be that we have to do only what you want. If I were the owner of this murga! Look, brother, try to paint your whole face It’s not an issue of makeup. What do you think? that this is a parodist troupe? If I were the owner of this murga! Now learn to dance like murguistas! look at that one on the side he moves less than a refrigerator. If I were the owner of this murga! Didn’t you bring any scenery? . . . and afterward they want to make tablados. If I were the owner of this murga! Choose the easiest music, boys so that the people can sing stop making such complex arrangements. If I were the owner of this murga! If I were the owner of this murga, have no doubt

Librettos of Principal Murgas / 205 that we would come in first enough of this hard music don’t get set back with countertime, I want a good, murguero chorus. If I were the owner of this murga, everything would be much better I would use raunchy humor and make loose, off-color jokes.

(refrain) If I owned Falta I would throw away that pretender, that terrible leech. I would make it politicized, I would use a lot of “people,” “Patria Libre,” “equality,” and “compatriots.”

(refrain) Now we’re in a big mess because of this one you are alive, I want to say listen to me listen to me leave it to me to direct. If I were the owner of this murga I would use expensive fabrics and dazzling costumes. If I were the owner I would use discrete clothing like in the murgas of the past. I would add many dances and choreographies to the murga. I would not let Falta go about in a rented bus, they have to go back to the truck. (refrain) If I were the boss of Falta, this thing about being a coop, I would put it in the closet because when it’s time to get paid we’re all the same, and when it’s time for work many become suckers. Only seventeen of them should perform. Women should not get on the truck. I would use synthesizers, basses, violas and conga drums to make a lot of rock’n’roll

If I were the owner I would fire those who drink too much. I would go out in a thong and miniskirt with brocades and organdies, seated in the truck. (refrain) Please, don’t take this seriously what they tell are just stories I direct them and they are happy because we all pursue the same goal. Look, Pitufo, there in the chorus they keep dreaming of top hats and they contracted two macumberos to bewitch drumming. Everyone goes after power and to have a say in the murga this cannot continue like this it’s better if we never perform again because, ultimately, you won’t win for randiness if you spend the whole day fighting it would be so lovely to be able to go on singing together, joyfully, as we did yesterday. This, that you see up here onstage I am sure that you recognize it my friend, you do not enjoy too much I’m sure that at your job, it’s the same.

206 / Appendix And that lady there from the neighborhood who is fighting with her husband because both are convinced that each one should rule over their house. That guy in the fourth row doesn’t play baby soccer any more because he loved to be the captain and fought with the center half. And onstage people are upset about the dough Momo will bring even before it arrives they are arguing about how the owners will use it. The parties, turned to fragments the fragments, divided the divisions, further split to the point of disappearing. Cooperatives without people in the communal theater, unions with ten fractions, but no staff to go about at night gluing campaign posters on the walls. You remember, brother, in ’84 when hope waved like a flag they didn’t ask about your hair or your brand, everyone just wanted to go out and fight. You remember, brother, how lovely it was to know that we all had the same ideal on every streetcorner in every neighborhood my people fought for their freedom. Where are the embraces of that time the promises of yesterday, where are they those up above die laughing and down here we should be crying. The power came down to give out T-shirts of different colors,

and again climbed its throne again he who reigns and divides took the upper hand. We propose to our neighbor that she not fight with her husband they have lived through many things it’s worthwhile to think it through. And, little kid on the soccer team, remember that the team needs you and that is is better to put the ball in the goal than wear the captain’s bracelet. To the many boys that go about with foul tempers in the workplace or the union we propose that you chat for a while with one hand on your heart. To the murguistas we invite them to go out together on the stages with these out-of-tune choruses because our song is the people’s. If I were the owner of this murga . . . Power, power old fool who separated the men. Power, power your merchants have cultivated division. To win the history of the new humanity it’s important to listen to those of us below, we understand and gather together without wanting to dominate each other because the only power that serves and dignifies is the one that makes it possible to serve others. Cheers, cheers beloved neighborhood this song is for you. Cheers, cheers

Librettos of Principal Murgas / 207 we toast you as a symbol of union. Uruguay, Uruguay in their verses your Falta y resto only wanted to reflect the collective interests of this group of clowns, who want to make you happy making murga is what they do with the soul rebellious and Uruguayan, because murga is Carnival.

in ’83 they packaged it up and sold it to the people (refrain 1) Careful that they don’t take advantage of you to sell you a city sewer, you already bought the pump, today the microbes are in the suntan lotion. (refrain 1)

Couplet of the Trickster Recitation Uruguay, country of wise ones we are kings of the street we leave any doctor in our wake we are the most creative, stories are useless lumps as quick as lightning they say that they’re going to import some fools to balance things out What pride to be a whole-hearted Uruguayan! Uruguay, country of clever ones and great wise men here you will not find a fool not even by chance the boys are very streetwise they know all the bars, they know the night friends, gambling, and wine in full color. Refrain 1: To the country of the wise we sing to you here all are wise you can’t fool us no one buys streetcars or mailboxes in the game of the trickster we are all champions. I am going to give you some first-rate advice you see, the obelisk is not for sale

No one buys mailboxes on the sidewalk but they put money in the bank, in frozen savings accounts, to be precise, but the money of the clever ones ends up in Switzerland. (refrain 1) There in the arcades I buy my clothes, those fantastic vixens sell you whatever they want I buy superb antiquities recovered from garbage trucks. (refrain 1) I bought myself a used car and the seller, who is a friend, said that it was owned by an old woman who only used it to go to mass on Sundays. You, you are really “smart” not just anyone is capable of that surely it was in the bible that was kept in the glove compartment. Refrain 2: See, see, see, see how this guy is a smart alec the murga bet everything on him and now they’re staying put loosen it up, he’s still kicking

208 / Appendix look, you could get beaten up the one who gets upset loses! We’re at Carnival! We’re gonna kick their asses, we’re gonna kick their asses, we’re gonna kick their asses, we’re gonna kick their asses.

What use is it to live with the fakir memory of being world champions the final game will be played you have to try and try there are so many penalty kicks to block.

In the next elections, the people learned a lesson, certain that they were right, I give this to you signed.

You are right, my friend it even came to the stage what good are the bribes, the rip-offs, the deals, and contraband if, thinking we are wise, they swipe the country away from us let’s stop believing we are so smart let’s simply be Uruguayans

I hope you are not wrong but I will explain my doubt if the poor are so smart why do they vote for the rich. (refrain 2) Now they say that our real salary increased they also say that this year Nacional4 will be the champion. They increase pensions raising consumer taxes at the same time what a lovely raise in pensions the elderly pay for it themselves. (refrain 2) The summit of the superpowers a new peace comes early a stop to those of the Third World they keep smoking us in their pipes.

The Couplet of the Common Folks Recitation With all these so-and-so’s prone to digress we wanted to perform, a couplet that was at hand we outline it beforehand: it should be something conscious without sharp edges, kisses and mimes and therefore we composed a couplet . . . for the common folks. Our song is for the people haughty, alert, conscious. . . .

They modernize the state with that you can’t disagree the Colorados should be afraid if Don Pepe wakes up.

Pardon me, are you really sure?

(refrain 2)

We will try to judge what people tell us and after we will decide if they are guilty or innocent.

What use is it to have a painting on a wall a painting of “wisdom,” if there isn’t enough to eat and Uruguayans can barely make ends meet.

Who are you? (Who are you?) I am the common person.

Yes, yes, yes what a problem with these demented people.

Librettos of Principal Murgas / 209 No, no, no don’t make yourself the innocent.

I hope you don’t forget when you become a lawyer.

Oh, oh, oh these insolent people are depressing Yeah, yeah, yeah we’re already mad.

I am an anchor person, I inform hundreds of thousands of people.

When the end of the year comes I buy the lottery ticket if they have to fill the stadium I break into my savings father’s day, the day of the grandfather grandson and the president but I say, when will we have the day of the common folks? Oh, oh, oh these insolent people are depressing Yeah, yeah, yeah we’re already mad. If when I vote I make a mistake right away I am cuckolded but they courted me well to overturn the dictatorship. I am that one with no face, the one who is always waiting I am a little of each of you I am you who are listening. Let the characters pass by to tell their opinions and let the people answer and give their reasons. I am a pollster and your opinion I detect. You only say that you are popular and you never got up on the tablado.

Walk less to the palace and more to the slums. Let the characters pass by and give their reasons. . . . I am a TV announcer and people love me. Don’t laugh at people when you do your program. I am the great Chicholina and I came for my “strengths.” If you got their vote for that Rosa Luna should be president. Let the characters pass by and give their reasons. . . . I organize tea with rummy for you with laudable ends. But you make a face when you pass by Ramírez Beach. Look, I am going to the IASA Club and ride the bus all sweaty I get drunk, I am corny I am almost always tired there I ask for charity here I do an odd job and for four crazy pesos I wait for my social security check. Stop them, stop the people, stop them. . . .

Let the characters pass by and give their reasons. . . .

For being the director of a state Organization I serve the community

I am a law student and I will always be at your side.

Like a book at the library, the higher it is, the more useless.

210 / Appendix People, I am a policeman and my salary is very poor. I am going to think about whether I should support you but don’t hit me anymore!

I am Dardo Ortiz and I direct my opinions to the people. Remember on your ranches that the peons are people.

Stop them, stop the people, stop them. . . .

The solution, friends is to march forward arm in arm.

My name is Férnandez Faingold and you will vote for me.

General endorsement . . . Yes, but only if nobody is excluded!

Minister or moth killer, the people no longer can.

Stop them, stop the people, stop them. . . .

I am the boss of “the fifteen” I do understand people.

People with few friends good people, honest people in me everything is intermingled I am the world, I am nothing.

Watch out for I remember to me, you are the traitor Stop them, stop the people, stop them. . . . My name is Adela Reta I am your culture and sweetheart. You forget about Treinta y Tres children are also people! I am General Medina don’t be impertinent. I know you well, Roslik lives among the people! Stop them, stop the people, stop them. . . . Gentlemen, I am Sanguinetti and the people are my treasure. I already burned myself with milk and when I see a cow, I cry. Compatriots, I am Bocha, friend of the guys.

Damn the poets the heroes and the sages they all use my name to deceive the naive. Damn anyone who invokes me for lost causes Damn anyone who uses me to wash their wounds. Damn anyone who says “people” to carry out foolishness. How much will be your pain . . . ? Leave me to live in peace, to be as I am and nothing more don’t help me or save me, don’t sacrifice any more! Stop giving me advice with insolent words the only thing I want is to live decently!

In the land of the free there is no place for drunks.

What I know is that I didn’t laugh and I came to laugh The common person wants joy.

Stop them, stop the people, stop them. . . .

Oh, so you want to laugh? Sit back and relax,

Librettos of Principal Murgas / 211 Cover the children’s ears, please At the people’s request we bring you something entirely new. Here is . . . The Triple X Falta! The cowboy Anacleto is such a willy you will see what his big foot does careful, people, for he is famous, nobody escapes him, not even the sheep and the hog. This other one, who will play the gay, his presence “reveals” him, you see, like seagulls at the meat-packing plants, the tripe he doesn’t eat, he entangles it around their feet. One can play the drunk and the other, quite neatly, will look for words that rhyme with stuck, bunt, kick, and bass. Let’s imitate fat Porcel and repeat old Quevedo’s jokes, parody the great, skinny Olmedo soil ourselves . . . and fart! One who pees onstage one who makes a joke about Jews, stupid peasants, foreigners, blacks they imitate Alf, which is very effective. Laugh I tell you, laugh, laugh, laugh, laugh! what rotten people laugh, damn it, little ass, kid, little shit laugh, laugh, I beg you, laugh, laugh, laugh I wear a condom, AIDS, penicillin zodape, pendorcho, maraño laugh, laugh, don’t be such a drip, stupid people, laugh! swear! laugh, damn it, laugh, laugh, laugh, laugh

Ha Ha Ha Come, bring me joy Make me laugh, you fools! Can’t you see that I am waiting? C’mon, let’s go champs! Ridicule defects that the people always have because I come to laugh sad destiny, clown don’t you see that what I see onstage are my own penuries. How much will be your pain. . . . Of course I want joy, joy that lasts, joy forever, not just any quick guffaw. I want to laugh, always laugh without stopping without a return to suffering when the stage is taken down. Pardon me, I am a human being forgive me if I was insolent I am only a murguista one more among the people. Recitation I represent no one and I represent everyone for this, I become the nymph to sing in the chorus. But one thing is for sure, the truth is with the people whoever represents us should keep this well in mind don’t speak to us of “the people,” the masses or the human sea you who only name me to wash your hands. When the people finally sing as they do at Carnival

212 / Appendix and each goes up to the stage each one with his truth neighbor, the time has come to sing our song with Falta or without Falta but with all your heart.

Retirada Uruguay, from the depths of time your legendary, strong voice arises Uruguay, your voice is the cry that beats heroic cielito, our song of freedom the cry intoned against the invader the Motherland of Hidalgo her first bard. His silhouette still walks his guitar is sad and attentive the aurora is nothing new for his great eyes and forehead his cielito has left a footprint and by the bonfires you can hear bass strings reasons and stars. Recitation Don Hidalgo saw. The singers are leaving. They are always in a hurry. They think that history can be written in little half-hours of songs. You know this. Two hundred years is nothing to sneeze at . . . it’s a lot of time! But the poor keep getting poorer and the rich get richer. Chorus They say the man sang with strength and courage and there in the houses, his song blossomed like the ceibo with its verses rising up from beyond his heart.

Your voice returns in this farewell because the people’s wound is not healed the same goths that you fought have betrayed your legacy of justice we need to borrow one of your cielitos so that the people can sing on the tablados. White dove, little life, with your silly bill because of a coward, the wolf is at large. Whether they come or not, they will hear the good news impunity is over and justice will begin. Better put on your hat the air of glory is coming if the wind doesn’t muss your hair history will. Cielito of ’88 with murga and the people in song like the osier stick many walk in fear. Whether they come or not, no one will strangle the people impunity is over and justice will begin. So this is the end, cielito let the drums roll the song is always the same because the people keep on fighting. Recitation They say that the cielito was invented at the time of Independence the cielo was already invented he simply strummed a star. Chorus Inheritor of Hidalgo’s cielito Falta y resto bids farewell valiant Uruguayan and murguero

Librettos of Principal Murgas / 213 for a people who did not surrender because life and courage remain hope, persistence, illusion and although they betray Artigas with a thousand cowardly schemes the people still show their indomitable heart.

the guerrillas of the past remain with them, waiting patiently and when the time comes it could be tomorrow they will cultivate their will, a thousand stars in the aurora.

Recitation Hidalgo, your people are a serene ocean under a stormy sky

Chorus Inheritor of Hidalgo’s cielo . . . END

214 / Appendix

LA REINA DE LA TEJA (Third Prize, Official Contest, 1988) Cast Percussion

Fernando Castillo, Jorge Pérez, Rubén González

Seconds

José Maidana, Alberido Rolfo, Tomás Vera, Eduardo Juárez,

Firsts

Raúl Ramela, José Marquéz Daniel Barceló, Antonio Zenardo

Alto Firsts

Luis Ramírez, Julio Mañana, Luis Reyes, José Morgade, Sergio Rivero

Third

Luis Alberto Pereyra

Coordinator

Juan Carlos Alvarez

Director, texts

José Morgade

Design and costumes

María Assaian

Sets

Daniel Fuentes

Props

Regalo, Petete, and Carlitos

Driver

Mudo Etcheverría

Collector

Andrés Villar

Rehearsal hall

Club Arbolito, Placa Lafone (La Teja)

Commission of Honor: The heroic and glorious people of Uruguay A special thanks: to the National Pro-Referendum Commission Thanks: to Julio Julián

Librettos of Principal Murgas / 215

LA REINA DE LA TEJA, Libretto, 1988 Greeting

then, what else do I need? oh, yes . . . I need people!

Recitation I was awake, but dreaming how can I tell you about the creation of this story that is truer than fiction

People to play these things and sing high and low, people to sell sodas. People are indispensable because without people, there’s no story, book, love, dream . . . then let’s begin the fable of the murga that the low voices have to sing.

Let’s imagine a book, for example, Carnival How do you get to the murga? What path should you take? Little by little, the fable becomes reality if we rake the leaves what will we find? I have no percussion, right? hit well then, a fat, echoing bass drum boom boom boom, there it is and then a smaller drum like a mangangá rataplán, let it hum and rumble add the big flat coins, metallic and sharp they always seem to toast with their chin chin, like breezes Well, now, what else do I need? Men who sing low right? with their painted faces and others a little bit higher and then a very fine, little one and it’s almost ready Oh, no! I don’t have the costumes let’s see, let’s see, princes’ costumes, for example, after all, it is just a story! although I am not one who lives off of stories, exactly . . . or princely . . .

Chorus The drum crashes in murga, a whirlwind that hums with voices . . . Carnival The basses and altos sound, making music then the tenors or suddenly it becomes synchronized We make the murga our fundamental task . . . Carnival Making the clothes, collecting ads, preparing the props arranging the music and the librettos, making the records and besides We make the murga our fundamental task . . . Carnival In winter many rest but La reina continues to play her happy song, fully engaged in pursuit of solidarity In clinics, union halls, schools, clubs, and throughout the country she marches on, carrying only hope, struggle, and love We make the murga our fundamental task . . . Carnival La reina is free, from Montevideo her song has an independent ring without labels, tomorrow will be for all of humanity We make the murga

216 / Appendix our fundamental task . . . Carnival Let’s face this big task together so that false storytellers don’t return from the shadows telling lies, they will die We have to tell the story of this world If we act it out, the threads will be broken . . . Carnival There will be no story if we don’t have doves, all the flowers will lose their fragrance and the glittering goblins of February, their hearts will wither until they die there will be no story if the crystal of the clear water grows murky because its desires are denied the sun is melancholy for the promises, liars transformed the victory. There will be color only when I am happy, the rich spring of indigence one can eat today’s bread if there is enough for the whole nation There will be a story if there are no more paupers, if the farmer is paid for his sweat, if the one that brands our culture for our children can make a living from his labors There will be stories if the grandfather who worked does not depend on the shameful crust of bread and if the one who cares for our health hour after hour does not become the anxious wanderer Our people are the ones who conquered, without colors, the stolen independence the same people today

search for truth, without rancor because they have reason. Solo You will be witnesses that the story happened, carried to the river so often, the jug was broken they want to erase memories, we should bury it in a deep pool but we will see it emerge Chorus The lamb is punished because it lets it happen the tiger is more respected they don’t try to touch it if they want us to be quiet it will cost them because what we planted yesterday we will soon harvest Happy future flag, emblem of equality our strength and tenderness will never end Our Oriental soil forms the heart of the continent, Our people will be happy when we all have our well-being Uruguay will belong to Uruguay and the story will end Uruguay will belong to Uruguay and we won’t give it up the song sounds bothersome, it was also disruptive yesterday it will continue disrupting they don’t want to understand. To forget, ma’am, that it is degrading to forget, friend, that it is degrading . . . to forget Swallows that occupy the schools coming out to the delirious world

Librettos of Principal Murgas / 217 they don’t know political schools they only have toys before them sacred nightingales of the future restless challengers of the land looking at the older ones, they are ashamed that they resolve their lives with wars. The fragrant bow ties of the children’s uniforms increase the chorus, little giants, everyone’s sparrows it’s not their fault they are marginalized, rolling stones are ignored. Flocks of larks covered in cold observe the contradiction in shadows to sentence them let’s love the names that pertain to us, the future men. The lovers of underdevelopment will undoubtedly bring dirty faces millionaires of rains and tornadoes, proprietors of the sun and moon Nevertheless, la reina has winds that lift her up above the metals some day, the unhappy will be happy they will play the principal roles. The fragrant bow ties increase the chorus, little giants

Couplet of the Video Spoken And yes, it had to happen to us, it was foreshadowed The more developed embryo knew how to get close to the ellipse of revolution, the galaxy. Pussin no longer amazes since Venus and Eneas, nor does Rembrandt since the Louvre with The Disciples of Emmaus What will become of Le Brun, el Greco, Murillo? Who will be kept awake

by Beethoven or Amadeus? it’s the era of Rambo, the decade of the screen the broadcasts envelop and trap us the toy and the top have been displaced by new machines that give points and magnetize the matinee died, video was born and as it remains distant from this great advance, La reina bought one in thirty-eight installments as a gift, they gave us some cassettes And you, Sir Have you signed up for some plan yet? Look, it’s not that expensive eh? When you wanted to remember, you stopped paying it. Now, that’s it! instead of lunch, you should do yoga You know how nice it is to forget the water bill, the health plan, electricity and gas and see “explicit sex” or Diego Aguirre’s goal or some horror that makes you crazy. And without ads . . . do you realize? Don’t tell me that it doesn’t tempt you. And you, ma’am? Let’s go! To record one of Don Julio’s little speeches and when it’s done, over there around the twentieth of the month you can put it into the VCR with the volume all the way up you’ll start jumping backwards. You knock out the lightbulbs, kiss the video player, and go to the mental ward. Look, lady, we live in Monte-video for some reason. I bring a mountain of things,

218 / Appendix they’re all for you I bring a mountain of things, they’re all for you I bring songs songs, and jokes jokes I bring saws saws I bring heaps heaps You’ll be able to see Chaplin’s eternal follies We put in the first tape so that the film will begin You have to imagine that this tape was made for you Chaplin is Chaplin is to see and to fall to see and to fall because Chaplin is, because Chaplin is in style in the world that is going to speak the money awaits his meaning Chaplin What this world is, I tell myself that in the Center, in the Prado, at the beach I saw, if the women take off their clothes then they are a show, and I laugh and turn away, but there’s a mess, what would everyone say if with my top hat and my cane I make them tra tra, the new wave is to wear their dresses cut low in the back, showing off their butts, with hardly anything in front Not that I can’t understand or that I’m old-fashioned but all the girls wear suspenders the pants are snow-white, busting from being so tight shaking the floor as they pass by and the old men don’t ask permission anymore look, I am not a scoundrel but let me tell you

that sometimes I cannot the underwear wear when I see them the underwear falls down I turn green, red, and yellow I’ll go to jail if I lose my underwear simple simple if they catch me they’ll lock me up in my day, there wasn’t such a mess there were lovers courting the prettiest with a big bouquet of flowers Chorus Charlie Chaplin gets nervous with the girls it’s the era of the bikini and the era of loose clothes is over changing the topic a bit let’s see if Don Carlos tells what the country was like in the dull 1980s. Chaplin They kept on being crazy, I tell myself I saw the streets all ruined the holes were even all over like the moon, what a shame and with such high taxes we have to pay these killer tax hikes every one of them at 21 percent, the population despairs and I say goodbye and go tra tra the patents incited the governors the cheapest cigarettes of the border the kiosk owners leave the country it’s not that I don’t understand the confusion they are mortal, I am aware Don Bocha’s return and more than one cries “flower” the measles is very combative Marabboto was applauded the 60 percent increase in rent

Librettos of Principal Murgas / 219 today it seems that they want people to be homeless look my rap is coming to an end but let me tell you that this is a mess it’s a mess mess, everything goes up and the salaries are in the hole meat of the cow, the pig, and even the chicken I tell you again, it seems like a mess mess mess I forget jump this obstacle I say goodbye to you with a kiss watch your necks most Uruguayans don’t even have a peso. Chaplin Charlie Chaplin leaves with the kid on video he has offered his opinion after looking at Montevideo (encore) Chorus Change, change the video new films are already old change, change the video today’s chromatic light belongs to yesterday devoid of color, the invention shocked and the people paid in many installments the parade goes on through the big screen the characters that people request from us Hardy The couple went around the globe everyone celebrated their good humor my skinny friend gets ready to entertain you he stays skinny like a breadstick Chorus They keep getting in line

Laurel The fat pimp is so vigilant if he causes me trouble, I pull on his cheeks they call him the sure bet because no one can beat him at the size of his head or his bottom Chorus They keep getting in line . . . Laurel I beg your pardon, I’m a lean fighter the fat man and I get along splendidly it’s not my fault if the girls here look at me whenever we arrive Chorus They keep getting in line . . . Hardy This flashy little guy wants to look new wave I’ve never seen him with a woman alone in the neighborhood they refer to him as “back sweat” because he runs straight to the bottom Chorus They keep getting in line . . . Hardy A giant doll installed on 18 de Julio1 I can tell she’s Brazilian visitors enter from behind Chorus They keep getting in line. . . . Laurel The new defense minister is in charge and Uruguayans are still trembling when the kids arrive, the president names Gavazzo to the Ministry of Youth

220 / Appendix Chorus They keep getting in line. . . .

Chorus

Duo Laurel and Hardy take leave enthusiastically, we’ll return later if you like. We don’t understand how such a small country keeps sixty thousand little soldiers good for nothing

Coli coli . . . Yesterday’s fresh water is now rotten this collector’s backhander must return

Chorus They keep parading on the big screen change, change the video Solo and Chorus To swim coli coli one shouldn’t swallow coli coli the ocean water coli coli harms the skin, one can get sick there are coliform bacteria coli coli of the city sewer coli coli a petal of my flower coli coli, that is, that floats in the ocean Ramela I can’t resist swimsuits like these I begin to nibble so that they’ll go away I can’t work here, it’s full of crazy people they begin to float, then they land at the shores Chorus (refrain) Coli coli . . . Chulín Everyone pees on the beach, sir you can’t tell me that it’s not true because of AIDS the couples use rubbers and return the wrappers

(refrain)

Duo We are the Coliform Bacteria and although everyone beats us we did them a big favor so that they can get to the end of the month the bus fare costs $1.30 plus something to eat, add a drink make sure that it’s not just water Chorus That lovely water . . . Duo of Coliform Bacteria Approve the tax-free zones and we have nothing to do with it, the immense list of savers have reasons to fear they went after the AFE now our countrymen have no train to ride We, the Coliform Bacteria, we were not the ones who tortured Treinta y Tres Chorus That lovely water . . . Duo In Uruguay, the policemen went on strike for the first time and for this reason the thieves showed off their honesty Carrying a great banner that explained their behavior when the strike ends, beware we will begin to go around again.

Librettos of Principal Murgas / 221 Chorus That lovely water . . .

beware, for we bring fever, diarrhea, vomiting, and pain

Duo Look, our work is not as simple as you think after we get inside it is difficult to return

but infectious microbes don’t just live at the beach they also drive expensive cars infecting the whole population

An old lady from Pocitos made a bowel movement with great pride I got entangled in her body hair she hadn’t bathed for a month Chorus That lovely water . . . Duo And the day that that bald one who’s ultimately a true champ swallowed us with a wave, we got stuck right above his kidney oh yes, it was very ugly when the bald one got up he made an appointment to see the doctor he was asked to shit in a bottle That modern, little skinny guy who swallowed us up with satisfaction the nerves that we passed by returned when he lay down a big black man appeared unbuttoning his pants he put us both inside we went floating up to his heart

Chorus (refrain) That lovely water . . . Animator (speaking) And . . . there’s no point, it’s the terrific video invention What would Jules Verne say? Chaplin, Laurel and Hardy, the coliform bacteria . . . There’s everything! Even newspaper notes! Look in the news, the memorable meeting between Reagan and Gorbachev One helping the Contras, the other helping Perestroika . . . The piece of news was amazing . . . but the interpreter failed us Anyway, in the act, we got to chat with Fidel Castro. Listen to how it went. Fidel Under Batista’s worms we had 11 teachers Now we have 50,000 teachers There were no doctors, chico Now we have 100,000 doctors Animator And delinquents, Fidel?

Chorus (refrain) That lovely water . . . Duo If you head to the beach keep this story in mind

Fidel Well, we had 120,000 delinquents and we didn’t go up Now we have 20,000 delinquents, chico thanks to the Cuban saints, we could export 19,000 of them

222 / Appendix to Mariel in the U.S., living proof that Cuba exports quality, chico

(just for today, ’cause I quit smoking you know).

Animator And the other 1000?

Chorus The fun began, the commander arrived and ordered the dancing to begin

Fidel Well, look, chico, they are the ones that stayed giving courses. Observe that the unsociable cannot live in Cuba, well then like in the U.S. “there’s more freedom” do you understand? . . . well, I dump them on the Americans and Reagan already has had three surgeries, thanks to the Cuban “marielitos,” chico

Fidel Here they keep going, packaging the people with strident discourses, no one can stop them. Get smart once and for all, the “two” parties always rule while they chew at the Punta del Este you cannot even eat

Animator What do you think of the Uruguayan politicians that visited Cuba? Did you become friends with any of them? Fidel Good people, chico, good people . . . A lot of cards, a lot of cards . . . Now to pay the interest on the external debt, it’s going to be harder than finding an Indian with a moustache, but . . . they are good boys Although friends, what you call friends, ultimately only Seregni, Sendic, Jaime Pérez and Wassen are friends. . . . All those that worked overtime during the dictatorship you understand me, chico?

Chorus The fun began . . . Fidel I don’t want to get myself involved by giving my opinion in other people’s houses but it makes me sad to see this done so badly, how can it be that only thirty wolves enjoy the fruits of everyone’s labor this must change once and for all Chorus The fun began . . .

Animator Of course I understand . . . But . . . how about if now we shake the skeleton a bit?

Fidel Finish the discussion, as a brother I propose don’t forget that it is the Fund that oppresses the nation in every revolution, the grass roots are the ones who call the shots let the directors see that only the people are right

Fidel Let’s go, chico. Light a candle. Bring rum and tell Más and Piedra to send me another box of cigars

Chorus The fun ended, the commander returns to his native land

Librettos of Principal Murgas / 223 Here Federrico, here Federrico . . . he comes forward to explain, sweating profusely, how we can make the diet over here Federrico here, he comes for the meeting he shakes us to our hearts, in two classes you can learn. Federrico To begin, you should have very hard knees you should have no knots in your throats, and you should move them back and forth your ankles should also be very hard and you should flex them your knees move sharply, your head should not hang down. Chorus Here Federrico, here Federrico . . . Federrico You have to be careful, don’t get excited because it can be embarrassing if you do it after eating You also have to be careful, couples, when you practice the two should be together on the same side, if not you might choke. Chorus Here Federrico, here Federrico . . . Federrico The ones on top would not have to take notice remember that the ones supporting them from below do not look at them Federrico throws them the sponge, and has to leave If you don’t learn the pata e’ bolsa, the bird will fly away from you

Chorus Here Federrico, here Federrico . . . (Federrico cries and gets mad because they don’t let him sing another. The murga concedes and he sings “The Little Toads,” until the murga throws him out) Soloist Now the news begins, brought to you by the GOBOS, it’s the national maximum. There won’t be De Feo, Giacosa, Araújo, Barboza or Chabela to inform Chorus They don’t sleep, they never sleep, Chulín with Ramela They will give you the good news, it’s the “robot” bulletin Don Ramela will bring you the news today, with Chulín. Chulín The GOBOT news begins . . . (All sorts of noises, a siren, for example) AIDS continues to threaten everyone should use precaution, watch out, watch out, watch out Ramela I don’t compute, I don’t compute . . . bi-di-bi-di-bi-di. . . . that’s it, yes. To continue with the news. . . . Ex-minister Chiarino, they call him the fantastic automobile he does everything except “that,” “that,” “that” . . . Chulín (Using sounds of a radio receiver) They canonized the president, They canonized the president, Now he is Fray Beto, Fray Beto, Fray Beto . . .

224 / Appendix Chorus (refrain) They don’t sleep . . . Chulín In the hotels with high turnover they prohibited porn videos Ramela When the minister of the economy speaks, the couples get hotter, to continue. . . . The gold arrived from Moscow. Liverpool champion. The contact was from their president Ruso Fidel Chorus (refrain) They don’t sleep . . . Chulín Here Japan, here Japan . . . Ti-tu-ti-tu . . . Peñarol fell against Porto even though Damiani took all the precautions. He even brought the food with him, Cokes, meat, eggs. Ramela They played without having eaten and in the cold, the Cokes, meat, and the eggs all froze Let’s go to a commercial break, we’ll be right back. . . . Chulín The dry cleaner wants all stained clothes, to buy a jacket, sell the blankets parabara, parabara . . . who sells a pair of shoes with a spin? who?

who sells a Ministry of Economy? who? I, Lele . . . And who pays . . . Espadol pays! And if he doesn’t pay . . . he cures! Because he runs on batteries! His land is popular, his salary is popular, his rhythm is popular, it burns a lot! . . . Popular rhythm of Uruguay At the tone, the time will be 11:30 and twenty seconds, beep calling central command, calling central command . . . Ramela They tested up to six, they tested up to six. . . . Chorus (refrain) They don’t sleep . . . Ramela A large contingent of tourists arrived in the country. . . . Chulín Sanguinetti, Asíain, Juan Raúl, Iglesias, Manolito, Ciganda, Medina, Lescano, Zumarán, Aguirre, Cataldi, Damiani, Adela Reta . . . Stop all this diplomatic traveling, please! . . . Ramela The Mayor looks for oil in Montevideo he has already made more than five hundred drillings Another one from Town Hall: the Uruguayan ants have tapeworms from eating so much sugar. . . . azuquita!

Librettos of Principal Murgas / 225 Chulín AFE is fai(th) . . . fai-nomenon Uruguay is the only country without trains you have to sign to save AFE you have to sign to save AFE The news continues . . . Chorus They don’t sleep . . . Chulín Villa Española to the “B”2 Ramela . . . 10 points! Chulín Liverpool to the “A”3 Ramela . . . 10 points! Chulín Defensor, the new Uruguayan champion, Ramela . . . 10 points! Chulín Wanderers, champion of the League. . . . Ramela . . . 10 points! Chulín Peñarol, champion of the Liberators’ Cup Ramela . . . 10 points! Chulín Uruguay, South American champion Ramela . . . 10 points! Chulín They approve the law of the tax-free zones . . .

Ramela . . . 0 points! Chulín Retired without bonuses . . . Ramela . . . 0 points! Chulín Council of the Child of Treinta y Tres . . . Ramela . . . 0 points! Chulín Privatizations . . . Ramela . . . 0 points! Chulín Leaders’ Summit in Mar de la Plata Ramela . . . minus 10! The two together Be alert . . . bidibidi . . . be alert . . . bidibid . . . (They exit while the chorus sings the refrain) Animator And . . . we said it from the beginning . . . the video is a terrific invention! Look, we had to offer them The Untouchables, Batman and Robin, Alf, Porcel’s Cats, and even a special program made by Larrea! But we can’t . . . The plin-plin-plin was erased from all of them For the finale we bring you an unparalleled concert by today’s hottest performer . . . The gaucho Sting!

226 / Appendix Sting (Greets the public and sings) I came here, to the south I brought my song and everything I think as well nothing matters if the two of us are together yes, I want to dream with you

there will be no impunity, there will be no impunity, there will be no impunity Oh, Oh, we go on, there were more than enough signatures, the people are too right (like this until the end, when Sting leaves, withdrawing and saying goodby).

I already spoke of Chile and I sang for the Nicas and I even opined about the Referendum, I know that many didn’t like it let’s be together you and I, let’s be together

Farewell

Chorus and Sting You and I let’s be together, let’s be together . . . let’s be together, the murga and rock

“I wish that the Indians, in their villages, would govern themselves so that they protect their interests as we protect ours. Remember, they have the principal right”

Sting (spoken) The solidarity of the earth’s people has no geographical bounds It’s the heart that persuades reason For this, popular expressions cry out to change war into roses To hatred we oppose Rock To hatred we oppose Murga To hatred we oppose Truth and Justice To hatred we oppose Tenderness and love Sting (singing) Tomorrow, the same, some will not be here when the rain falls, someone will cry aroma and honey of the Times to Come our people will keep looking The children, when they are grown, will know how to love dignity Chorus Because of you and because of him, today I can sing, we can sing You sing and I sing,

Spoken Artigas said:

Chorus Heroic Zapicán fell the storms came Abayubá and Añagualco are already on their pedestals Yandinoca gave his life how many lies Tabobá dead in combat powerless before the sword that was bathed in his blood Magaluna splits the heroic fighter and another champion is lost in the plains Like a father of the dark shadows Teru goes with his lance in hand without knowing why, the men are attacked brilliant Liropeya is love in wartime and will always mourn in our land Yandubayú has fallen his canoe no longer advances our poor Indians, humiliated

Librettos of Principal Murgas / 227 have lost all hope the forest cries. This was our aurora.

Spoken Varela contributed popular education:

Spoken And the town meeting proclaimed: “Be a friend to all if no one provokes you, if they want to oppress you, be their enemy.”

“It is the duty of all teachers to try to honorably imprint upon the spirits and hearts of their disciples the principles and the sentiments of patriotism, truth, and justice.”

Chorus After, the monopoly of the Goths and the cruel Lusitanian invaded us the Gallic aimed their cannons and the Bretons hit with artillery nevertheless, the gaucho was born of history, a mixture of love and quarrel horsemen bearing knives and lances they opened a beautiful door to this land wind of liberty, your heroic cape mustang centaur that goes from south to north, the United Provinces guarding you they were denied, conquered, they were men Thus our future was born and grew through the labor of the tender and rudimentary farmer, the patriarch went marking the good path on his land absolute psychologist, the indomitable citizen, building this destiny the betrayed father is watchful because the song of his children reverberates you see, the Oriental does not yield Artigas left us the immense home he will mourn our death come in, come in you are in your homeland

Chorus The morning of Asencio, Mercedes proclaims that a giant exodus is close to our hearts, the bloody division started a great war in our Uruguay but we learned, dear land, how one buries darkness The Uruguayans light the fire and in their memory, we will keep singing today they taught us how to get to freedom we will never forget, and we will never let them down this is your song, the nation soars free, seeking love Spoken Free, like the thinking of Pepe Batlle, who thought that the people should keep on fighting for justice and liberty it would be absurd for the people to stop this struggle, to cease their endless preparation to defend that same justice and liberty Batllism wants the people to decide by means of the plebiscite. And Domingo Arena said: “Our greatest objective is the improvement of the popular classes. The government that does not concern itself with this issue and carry it out fails.”

228 / Appendix Chorus With Zorrilla and Rodó humanist and thinker Domingo Arena, popular education was created by an Uruguayan, Varela The splendor of the revolution appeared and Leandro Gómez, Grauert, Baltasar Brum project the light into the new era La reina goes, very soon, Latin America will have its garden

for Toba and Zelmar La reina sings Pepe Batlle, leader, statesman and builder, walks alongside Herrera Erro, with his honesty, he will help us from the stars Andrés Lamas is the union the synthesis of ideas symbol of reason Frugoni is eternal in this land. La reina goes . . . END

Librettos of Principal Murgas / 229

LOS DIABLOS VERDES (Tenth Prize, Official Contest, 1988) Cast Directors

Juan Antonio Iglesias, Carlitos Moreira

Artistic director

Néstor Techera

Firsts

José Regiardo, Andrés Atay, Jorge Belando, Nelson Bertolini, Pedro Carlos Ferrer, Wilson Rodríguez, Jorge Ferreira, Rubén Gustavo Ambrosio, José Rodríguez

Seconds

Enrique Alvarenque, Gustavo Fungi, Héctor Cor, Julio César Díaz, Alvaro Alfonso, Juan Angel Rodríguez

Side drum

Jorge Vilches

Bass drum

Domingo Muñiz

Cymbals

Carlos López

Props

Ramón Iglesisas and Juan Sosa

Mascot

María Fernanda

Librettos Birthday couplet Farewell

Jorge Soria, Washington Benavides Jorge Leviz Carlos Modernell “The Green God”

Costume maker

Félix Porcires

Shoes

Néstor Techera

Bus driver

“Gallego” Fernández

Social hall

Florencio Sánchez Bochin Club

230 / Appendix LOS DIABLOS VERDES, Libretto, 1988 Greeting — Introduction The old path that turns around once again was adding more white hair with each trip fifty summers, fifty returns fifty moments of turning green again The dreams that time placed in the path we made them into a chorus, people, heart and to the weary rhythm of the bass drum fifty returns gave us your love And the Green Devils with their simple soul return at the dawn of their day ignoring the dreams that were cut short our wishes will flourish always Each moment, each tenderness each applause rises again facing the moon that kisses fifty instances of survival tonight And what happened to the song, to the old forgotten verse what throbbing ache, what bunch of pals what streetcorner will make the song return what nostalgia will nest in the old hearts that no longer sing today, what place of love, for those who will not return, they will keep the truck. The suns of the roll drum will be reborn, with each new summer, they will return, we are here, persistent and stubborn with half a century of dreams for you.

Our life will begin in our fifties, the times to come will see us right here and the Devils will be in every aurora of a year that awakened, old perhaps, but never silenced. What flowered road has to carry us and what new sun will light our way if when feeling the wave one knows the sea, how can you not know what will come here Recitation If dreams are just papers in a folder, played by sleepless gamblers and if the omen redounds in our desire if the dream is more patience than utopia we know the kingdom of dreams if anger is the anger of the good the one that surprises and amazes us and makes us release a submerged cry that leaves the soul as well as the throat hoarse if anger is a way of being alive we know the kingdom of anger And if heaven is the place where all see their faith, their concerns rewarded, and if the archangels are the crumbs of something entirely good, capable of pardon and punishment capable of silence, if heaven is like a tear we know the kingdom of heaven Life is something that doesn’t die death is when something withers away the returns are miracles they are death and life, rebirth.

Librettos of Principal Murgas / 231 One night, we too were burning with desire to return dreaming laughter and chimeras we awoke singing to you And the laughter of the stage wasn’t a dream we still carry the retirada and the final applause in our souls and we came for them again Colored light that awoke in the neighborhood like a star that forgot its light in a corner of the city to guide us to the place where Carnival is born on a stage. They call us carnivaleros, willies, nuisances, revelers the Devils are fifty years old, but they are not old At least not so old to become indifferent that this country is dying, and they merely give it a band-aid and a pill, what a shame. Refrain: The Green Devils return and nothing here is lost what’s going on, what’s going on in our own home Today, Uruguay sustains its most honored traits to treat foreigners well and to be generous Not only do we attend to them but we also give them our land, hotels, currency, ports, fish, cattle, and trains, how nice. (refrain) The Green Devils return . . .

In soccer, however, we make up for our losses we win in Buenos Aires what luck, hooray for “the Sky Blue.”1 Bringing honor to their name Progreso fought for it, Nacional brought Carrasco2 but logically, it landed badly oh, no . . . (refrain) The Green Devils return . . . Peñarol,3 this is insane! they had a stroke of luck again where they played the black and yellow, everyone was on the ground again. Sanguinetti was celebrating Damiani bathed in dollars and Zerbino, taking advantage of a tax he devised for us what a goal! (refrain) The Green Devils return . . .

Birthday Couplet Green Devil Good evening good evening this year I am the honored one and for my party, you must know that I have many guests Chorus We wish you a happy birthday and much happiness we are kind of fasting so let’s see if you invite us to your party Character 1 I have come to this homage you see, I didn’t forget if I didn’t bring you a gift it was because I forgot

232 / Appendix Devil Come in, Mister Juan Vicente I wasn’t expecting you to come but know that now I am in peace, the soul of the party is here Sit in this corner here your image will shine and for God’s sake, don’t take liberties when the girls arrive

Gatecrasher How are you, dear how are you doing, brother I brought a gift . . . a brilliant one Devil And this? Gatecrasher . . . the picture of Saltimbanquis Devil I think this guy is a gatecrasher. . . .

Character 1 I look the liberty to bring a friend his name is . . . and he’s the wittiest fellow

Gatecrasher How are you, Mister minister what’s up, Don Juan Vicente it’s an honor to greet you

He is called Huguito and although he is often rejected according to what some say it seems that he is not so bad

Devil He is a crasher and a gossip based on the way that he insists, he must be El Bocha, Jorgito come on in . . .

Chorus Happy Birthday, Ché Diablo Happy Birthday let the guests keep arriving I hope you don’t miss the homage of the cordial applause because the one who applauds the Green Devils will in turn be applauded by the people Devil Antoñito, what joy! . . . Character 2 Greetings to everyone present a courtesy visit I came with a police officer in case there is an incident These popular parties always bring me trouble whenever the people get together problems are very common

Character 3 Good evening . . . Devil Ay . . . I was wrong. . . . Character 3 What’s up, friends? Devil Hello Germán, how are you you couldn’t be absent although I see in your face that you are pretty mad Character 3 You bet I’m mad with all I have resisted with all that I denounce and how they threw me out Gatecrasher Very well, Germán, you are really great [to another] I don’t know how they let these communists in

Librettos of Principal Murgas / 233 Chorus Refrain: Come, everyone come to the birthday come now that the party’s getting hot get closer to the dancing, it’s fun and there is a little taste of trouble in the air this is good, look at what joy yes, this is life, the hullabaloo of Uruguay

let’s see, agent, go ahead. . . . and shut this guy up Police officer I’m sorry, I’m on strike I can’t collaborate Chorus (refrain) Come, everyone come to the birthday. . . .

Devil But look who’s arrived. . . .

Character 5 Good evening, everyone. . . .

Gatecrasher The tiny little golden bead, the one who persuades you just by looking in your eye

Devil Don Alberto, what a pleasure to have you here

Devil Come in, Mister President, how are you, sir? Character 4 Frankly, I’m very content the country is being modernized real salaries went up and for the year 2000 there will be excess housing Character 3 Your speeches aren’t convincing no one believes you anymore you promised many things but you achieved none of them Gatecrasher [to one person] this is the great president of the Uruguayans [to another] well Germán, I don’t know what we would do without you [to another] Ay . . . what a lack of respect, don’t you think, Minister? Character 2 You are right, my friend and I will act right now

Gatecrasher How are you, paunch? I understand things are difficult for you guys but don’t ease up on me, you have to keep on working together Character 5 For our enormous generosity we lost many votes but we still defend the governability this rare ability demonstrates well our stamp of voting without tricks, which is what the president wants because the bulls are brave and they also drive their horns in Character 3 What you say is very true the bull drives his horns but he has a pair of things that many lack Gatecrasher (to one person) very well, Don Paunch, after this drink

234 / Appendix one on me and keep working together (to another) you, yes, you are great indeed (to another) oh no, minister not that, now you tell us anything Character 2 The truth, it seems to me, is that this amounts to insolence who does this half-pint think he is? no one pokes fun at me agent, this is an order, seize him Police officer I am on strike minister

(to another) but . . . how long will you keep allowing this, Minister? Character 2 This will end right now, it’s all well and good that you disagree but this is too much, agent, lock him up Police officer Minister, I’m on strike, are you deaf? Chorus (refrain) Come, everyone come to the birthday. . . .

Chorus (refrain) Come, everyone come to the birthday. . . . Character 6 Good evening, hello what an antiquated birthday it should be modernized and that is why I have come I have already modernized AFE, ILPE, and the Park Hotel now I’ll continue with the port then the Hospital Maciel Character 3 Your name goes well with modernization in terms of privatizing, that is a different issue

Devil Manolito, Juan Raúl, the pair that was missing. . . . Gatecrasher The barking little dogs are here . . . how are the flag-bearers of today’s youth? Character 7 We are the brawlers, yes sir we are the new wave of our old parties we’re missing Fernández Faingold to complete the picture I even went to Moscow and I know what the left is all about I may not have gone so far but I let my beard grow

for the foreigner there are free zones and investments and for the Uruguayans there are only sacrifices

Character 3 Posing as leftists they climbed rather quickly but the people aren’t stupid, they’ve already been discovered

Gatecrasher (to one person) Well, Jorgito, here we have Uruguay’s future president (to another) well, Germán, you killed him. . . .

Gatecrasher I want to make a denouncement, this guy is armed he came with a slingshot and it’s too dangerous

Librettos of Principal Murgas / 235 Character 3 Please, keep your hands there I can’t stand for people to see me everywhere, and every time they want to throw me out Gatecrasher I propose that you get together, form a posse, and kick him out Character 2 Hey, officer, go ahead and disarm this misfit

You are the one who first made a fuss when you heard they were torturing children, but when you heard the children’s last names, you got silent And you are that brave one who got scared later on first you wanted justice and then you didn’t have the guts to sign Chorus

Police officer Let Mongo disarm him I am still on strike

Our Devil is very mad now Ay, how angry he became he had a scuffle with the gatecrasher and revealed him for what he is

Gatecrasher It seems to me that this guy will want to return close the doors and windows because he won’t leave us alone

let’s go, Devil, let’s not lose it let’s go, don’t give up the people are with you no way we can lose

Devil This guy, I invited him you came and invited yourself more of a gatecrasher than Pacheco in a grassroots committee

Gatecrasher So much trouble so much unmasking so much arguing all right, it’s true that I’m a gatecrasher but you, Devil, who are you?

You are among those who get along well with both God and the Devil but you don’t fool me I have known you for many years You are the one who cried wolf when you-know-who came, and you said that everyone had to resign, but you didn’t You are the one who trimmed Carnival with the scissors of censorship you helped with your pen so that no one would know this

Devil I am the Green Devil I am the Devil-People the one who hasn’t stopped singing the truths that hurt the truths that burn the truths that choke you and make you scream I am the Devil-People I am fifty years old I have lived history I am history, indeed I am fifty years old and have nothing to be ashamed of they wanted to silence me but I was not silenced

236 / Appendix I am an old worker from the neighborhood of La Teja where naked life blossoms and without the reverse I have seen and lived and I have been the poverty that, maimed, I sang to you of many times I am the dream of the child the child that I once was, today, with my white hair, I don’t stop singing I am the Green Devil I am the Devil-People the one who has never stopped coming out to sing Chorus We are the Devils We are the Devil People the ones who never stopped coming out to sing

Couplet of Democracy Recitation Attention, stop the orchestra no one say a word here comes a guest who arrived late to the party She brought grace and disgrace bad times and good times But we love her just the same she is Doña Democracy Democracy Hello, how are you, here I am a little disoriented the truth is that I don’t understand a thing yesterday they clamored for me and today they have me here they treat me really badly Solo Wait, it’s not exactly like that Today, many of us criticize you

to see if we can improve you others have stopped criticizing you in order to get rid of you Wait, let us explain Refrain: Doña Democracy tell us what’s happening here in our home, things aren’t going so well Everyone is knocked down this is no joke you were the champion but now nothing is really working Solo When you were about to arrive you promised us, with pride that all those who were hungry would soon be able to eat Democracy I promised it and I delivered Everyone enjoys great feasts and if not, then let Elizalde’s ants tell you as much Solo You came promising that those abroad would return without delay But it turns out that we’re still leaving Democracy Gentlemen, those who are leaving are poor or in bad shape This is one of my achievements ridding us of poverty Chorus (refrain) Doña Democracy . . . Solo Of participation you spoke with great respect and afterward, with each veto we got a great big scare

Librettos of Principal Murgas / 237 Democracy This is true, I don’t deny it and it’s a very nice thing Who does not like an authoritative democracy

Solo You said that you would treat children with kindness and at the Council of the Child you know what trouble arose

Solo Many modernizations you also promised to us and then you dismantled the trains and closed down all the stations

Democracy What happens is that they continue with the old repertoire of defending the rigor of the interrogations

Democracy Various stations remain I haven’t lost control You see, we still have winter, spring, summer, fall

Solo You said that you would put teaching in its proper place and then you gave it a budget that is more like a vengeance

Chorus

Democracy What did they need more money for? For what, tell me, damn it! when every year the schools enroll fewer kids

(refrain) Come, everyone come to the birthday. . . . Solo You also promised a change toward peace We have hardly seen any change We don’t see much peace either but there are more delinquents than ever Democracy I am not to blame for this you already saw the insolence if I order them to proceed they tell me they’re on strike Solo You promised to be austere, yet you have taken too many trips where so many gatecrashers go it seems that whoever wants to travel does so

Chorus (refrain) Come, everyone come to the birthday. . . . Solo And if this were little to the poor retirees. . . . Chorus . . . and you cramped them with all kinds of tales and today we hear their laments because of what they earn

Chorus

Solo They gave me no bonus, one retiree said, because I spent it, he said, on foolish things like, for example . . . food

(refrain) Come, everyone come to the birthday. . . .

Chorus How disillusioned we are with Democracy,

238 / Appendix back then we thanked her for what she promised and today, when we look to her, it is with suspicion and distrust

Solo But you said “Justice,” and at the moment of implementing it . . .

Democracy But I am not to blame damn the young people yesterday, in awe, they clamored for me and now that they have me it no longer suits them

Chorus . . . you retreated what a blunder, you can’t cover this up

Chorus Look, it’s not exactly like that . . . Solo But you should not forget that in last year’s Carnival. . . . Chorus . . . emulating the censorship some people wanted to silence it Solo To me, they pursued a fantastic idea That Carnival, one day, would be made for the majority . . . the silenced one! Chorus How disillusioned we are with Democracy, back then we thanked her for what she promised and today, when we look to her, it is with suspicion and distrust Democracy But I am not to blame damn the young people yesterday, in awe, they clamored for me and now that they have me it no longer suits them Chorus Look, it’s not like that . . .

Solo We were lucky that with our pens we showed that we are decent, to demonstrate to the world “the logic of the deeds” Chorus How disillusioned we are with Democracy, back then we thanked her for what she promised and today, when we look to her, it is with suspicion and distrust Democracy But I am not to blame damn the young people yesterday, in awe, they clamored for me and now that they have me it no longer suits them Chorus Look, it’s not like that . . . Democracy (speaking) One moment . . . They have been overly generous in criticizing my behavior speaking without compassion Now I will speak Chorus Just speak, fine, we will all listen to you, but what will you say that we don’t already know Just speak, we are tolerant

Librettos of Principal Murgas / 239 You see that we have had to tolerate enough, Go ahead Democracy It’s true that I said many great and beautiful things that I didn’t achieve But please don’t make fun of me don’t place the blame with me I gave you many options to choose whoever you wanted in the elections if you erred in your choice it was your error, not mine Chorus You are right. You are right, Doña Democracy. She is right, it’s no joke You are right. The fault is not yours One gets confused and rattles on without thinking Please, continue . . . Democracy I am just like those very plump girls that they show on television every once in a while But I don’t try to be a star If they praise me on the TV I have only one flaw They only show my right side and never talk of the other side Chorus You are right . . . etc.

and later a few manage to expel him from Parliament Chorus You are right . . . etc. Democracy You accuse me of horrible things but I am not the key I am the government of the people that is precisely my definition and if the people don’t govern I am sick with falseness If a minority rules, it’s not my fault whose is it? Chorus You are right . . . etc. Democracy And so I go with my song I leave singing after a little while and don’t get mad at me because I love you so much Chorus Don’t go, Democracy we love you, too You are suffering and we, you’ll see, we will cure you For you we gave many lives and we will give up many more without help so that you can take flight freely Don’t go, Democracy we love you

Retirada Democracy As far as I know the majority always rules so if a senator is elected All is perfect and that’s that Why am I to blame if a candidate in Uruguay gets thousands of votes

Chorus Heaven is plowed in the American continent The voice in the Green Devils, evocation of poets, seed and furrow of verses, of life, we will always follow its legacy

240 / Appendix Rodó was the guide, Ariel ignited a continent shining like a new sun forging tomorrows, faith in a better world. Auroras of battles, a sun with rays of love beating in one single heart [encore] Fountain of dreams that spouted water like a spring the brilliant inspiration will drink from the sap of life, its wisdom From my land, its bard Bartolomé Hidalgo, with his proud song, the challenge is born the one that still resounds, crossing time in order to conquer. Clarions, when they sounded, traced the borders of this loyal American continent, its vital fire, its struggle, its dreams When the Devils sing, their voices will vibrate, evoking glories, sculpting the bronze, the path within, they are the feelings, the songs of faith Spoken They are poets of the people those with fertile ideas smoldering like a torch with flames of reason The verse is the heart that beats with no betrayals the one of honest ancestry who raises these messages within each friendly neighborhood during the nights of Carnival Illustrious poets, free the dawn of your country

by that path already traced we defend our significance . . . and although some don’t like it, also to Carnival came the sharp, inspired pen the one who bravely criticized, and to the great authors, today the Green Devils extend this homage Chorus For the Hueso and the Gaucho Pérez again your call burns, Carnival with the Fino and the Jew my people enjoyed, its fluttering Cesarini with his dreams, Pocas Plumas, Chevalier the Porteño . . . or the eternity of that brilliance, of Gamero, great Screw we evoked yesterday. We are Devils, the Present and the Past and this voice will march to the future half a century is our heritage, our legacy of struggle and truth Green Devils, song that reflects the worker’s strength and home a heart born in La Teja, winning the city with each beat. When the Devils sing their voices vibrate evoking glories, sculpting the bronze the path within, with feelings, songs of faith People’s murga, going about on a thousand street corners, always threading together, from a balcony of rhymes . . . Upon leaving, the Green Devils say that there is no goodbye . . . END

Librettos of Principal Murgas / 241

LOS SALTIMBANQUIS (Second Prize, Official Contest, 1988) Lyrics

Carlos Modernell

Hats

Néstor Morán

Costumes

Juan Mascheroni

Musical arrangements

Jorge “Baby” Sansone

Costume production

Mary R. de Villalba

Makeup

Rosario Viñoly

Set production

“Oveja” Daniel Cast

General coordinator/ Murga rehearsal

“Oveja” Daniel

Firsts

“Abrojo” Cadenas, “Vasquito,” Aníbal “Bicho” Corrente, Juan Sauco, Julio Cane

Alto firsts

César, Aníbal, “Sapito”

Seconds

Alvarito

Basses

Aníbal Bueno-Angeleri, “Caramelo,” “Cuervo”

Percussion

“Cuita,” “Palalo” Washington

General Direction

Enrique Espert, Eduardo Espert, Eddie Espert, J. P. Kechichián

242 / Appendix LOS SALTIMBANQUIS, Libretto, 1988 Greeting and Introduction Character 1 (spoken) You’ll see, by my attire and my iron cages . . . ! my role is that of “birdkeeper,” First I hunt them, then I sell them . . . ! Character 2 And I, with this large cage . . . also hunt “little birds” I’ve liked it ever since I was little . . . I was born half dodo bird! (Laughter) Character 1 Rummaging through the forests and finding rare species makes me happy, this afternoon I had a great find I caught a “little black head” Character 2 What’s the big deal? I do everything more simply . . . I catch the yellow bird and paint its head! Character 2 I like the “cardinals” with their red crests when they’re trapped, they show anger in their ancestral fires Character 2 I like the hornero bird with its nest of mud and straw I was happy as a lark when I saw how it works Character 1 I am a mix of a hummingbird, a gilded blackbird a churrinche, scarlet red1 . . . cattle dog and nightingale . . . !

Character 2 My inspiration is gone! You overdid it . . . What am I . . . a poor mix? Does being a mix mean being a fag? Character 1 Don’t ruin the show for me My verse is still fluttering! Character 2 And these guys, what are they waiting for? For someone to open the cage? Character 1 This species is the “sparrow” voice of the people, unextinguished! in February it takes life . . . and makes trills, its song . . . murguistas by vocation . . . and we will make the people sing with the voice of Carnival . . . that called to us: Saltimbanquis!2 Chorus Again encountering this heat of a Carnival people it rises on the wings of the murguista’s song, the illusion Saltimbanquis offer you their song when they return and that of a king, still on his throne the greeting and its emotion will serenade laughter and color Because Carnival offers you its splendor on every balcony, the flower that closed when they left now opens again Saltimbanquis are bringing you to life they want to share the triumphant night murga and people are one heart that begins to beat here

Librettos of Principal Murgas / 243 it’s a heart, it’s a heart for you it will beat with fire in its voice Flames of friendship from timbers of love it provides us with a home that will protect this love forever Solo I invite you to dream, I am a Saltimbanqui and I am here at Carnival for my people Chorus They come from yesterday to live again today the mocking gesture of a fountain from which an amazed child will drink a loyal clown’s honey They are Saltimbanquis and they wanted to imprint their greetings on your hearts Solo Stop the music, how lovely this murga sings, there is only one voice but the greeting is long, it becomes tiring . . . Chorus Enjoy, again, the singing of the Saltimbanquis Your murga will be the lively farce that makes Carnival launch smiles along with the rhythm and color of the humming drum here, again, is your fantasy It vibrates, sings, and dreams, sharing this joy with its people the friendship of old days After a while, the Saltimbanquis get crazy and irreverent, they make themselves heard with their messages, their poetry

and they prophesy of better days The people resuscitate the joy of a crazy buffoon, of the eternal fiction That brings back the hullaballoo, dreams will fly and explode, spreading their seeds, trying to conquer your empathy The Saltimbanquis always critique as they thread their poetry rhythm, humor, fantasies A clown haunts the tablados with Saltimbanquis, and their legacy arrives at heaven for a moment your eternal murga “Crazy Pamento”

Couplet of Patrolman Vidal To the rhythm of this couplet, a current issue, everyone will enjoy it along with the Saltimbanquis There was a strike that really made people talk, a huge sensation And here comes a character, joking and enjoying Carnival, who’s very brave to enter this scene, he and his friend will tell us how business goes, why there’s a strike and who will win Patrolman (spoken) I am a good agent who has not mistreated anyone and the underworld has baptized me Patrolman Vidal He began this whole mess we put our lives at stake Indeed, I organized the first strike of the limp pistols Chorus Refrain 1: Tell us the story of the strike but don’t lie, with nothing strange

244 / Appendix what is it you want, how much do you claim, but without any digressions, right to the point Patrolmen (solos) To get to be a Patrolman don’t think that it’s a game you have to know the streets and absolutely every single bar You have to risk your neck and walk with death at your shoulder wandering from the sanctuaries to the farthest brothel Chorus Refrain 2: Laugh, dance with the Saltimbanquis, laugh To erase your sorrow, go on telling the story, the two patrolmen tell what happened in the strike Patrolmen Our anger has a purpose and people need to be informed we want higher pay to live in a more decent way we demand that they respect the honesty of the public servant and that the Commissioner doesn’t seize all the backhanders (refrain 1) Tell the story of the strike . . . Patrolmen We request more uniforms and that is not contempt we walk with our toes hanging out we don’t even have enough for shoes We had a shoot-out with four gunmen Instead of firing bullets we set off Brazilian fireworks

(refrain 2) Laugh, dance with the Saltimbanquis, laugh Patrolmen A while ago a pigeon-toed, cross-eyed, half-deaf servant called us, very frightened, from a mansion in Punta Gorda a man had raped her after entering by the roof and she desperately asked to reconstruct the scene (refrain 1) Tell the story of the strike . . . Patrolmen We set up a tent in Prado the neighbors lent us their pots TV and radio people came to do thousands of interviews with us A workmate was crying and Doña Lola was crying as well Asking us to please return the pots (refrain 2) Laugh, dance with the Saltimbanquis, laugh Patrolmen One day on Artigas Boulevard a transvestite started a fight he wanted to deceive a man by selling him a parrot that wasn’t we had to stop him to frisk his pants surprise, he had a big one . . . . . . after two friskings! (refrain 1) Tell the whole story of the strike . . . Patrolmen There are people who have complained and they show their discontent because in the procedures

Librettos of Principal Murgas / 245 We cannot accept the crap that one has to put up with and we make it into a game I put ice on some drunkards exactly where you might imagine (refrain 2) Laugh, dance with the Saltimbanquis . . . Patrolmen Careful with the youth you should combat drugs and try to erase the evil that has come into fashion This is under control we know how to play the role no one escapes us except the match between Bella Vista and Peñarol Chorus Refrain 3: And the stories are coming to an end the Saltimbanquis are having fun today we invented the two patrolmen who bring smiles as they pass by Patrolmen On another afternoon a butcher hurriedly called us and told us that he had been robbed of all his sausage meat they were accusing Zulemo, who, claiming innocence, jumped up and protested but they don’t play games with me when we frisked him, he had the sausage on him

Patrolmen In a brothel a fight started with a boy from the country they had stolen his trousers and all, along with all his money He was shouting that in the countryside they were better, more honorable people and besides, he had a sow who didn’t charge him a thing (refrain 3) And the stories are coming to an end . . . Patrolmen Another night we stopped a karate artist who was in contempt he was a tiny little Chinese man if he gets smart, I thought, I’ll kill him The Chinese man threw my partner over his head, and my partner was screaming then he almost strangled me with “the one” I carry hanging down The night stick, you sick people, what were you thinking . . . They brought us little trucks of the latest style but there are always smart ones who make fun of us They see you as you come down through the sliding doors they think you are from Ottonello & Co. and ask you for sausages

Chorus

(refrain 4) Stop, finish up your story . . .

Refrain 4: Stop, finish up your story stop, the couplet is over and done go away, we have put up with enough go away (I won’t)

Patrolmen From the House of Government they called us again we went as fast as lightning, following our duty

246 / Appendix But as usual we got there late and the ending was not happy they had stolen all the ideas for saving this country

of your applause tonight, barrio, to bring the murguista with his dreams of being an artist the memories of Carnival

(refrain 3) And the stories are coming to an end . . .

Critic’s Potpourri

Patrolmen If someone in the audience comes to need us, he can count on us, we’ll be right here at his service But before we say goodbye to this cordial audience we’re gonna pass a hat for the “soupkitchen-clinic-union” Dear friend and colleague they just communicated this to me by radio, the strike has ended we’re going back to work I told you, comrade we couldn’t lose and the time has finally come to complete our duty . . . So . . . Hand over your documents, everyone!

Refrain: Saltimbanquis to a hot rhythm Saltimbanquis returning summing up the themes of the year for the neighborhoods dancing and hitting everyone on their heads because the people have been waiting for this

Chorus And Patrolman Vidal’s siren went off and the Saltimbanquis’ couplet finally came to its end Patrolmen We ask you only if you like the entertainment get us a contract so that we don’t hit bottom Chorus If a smile emerged on your face if you enjoyed the farce the Saltimbanquis, with their rhythm of dance and song, fulfilled their mission tonight we only want the prize

(Dedicated to Club Gloria)

Don’t go to the beaches they’re contaminated a minister announced it but no one understood anything because behind him the Mayor said no and the people heard, believing or not some brave ones dove in just the same it was reported that those courageous ones caught hepatitis and arthritis, laryngitis, or conjunctivitis and something amusing, cigaritis, while they swam (refrain) Saltimbanquis to a hot rhythm . . . There in the Red Square a little plane landed, it came down as if playing and the Russians are worried after its arrival and all those standing guard that day were investigated, like pumping a stomach, they began a purge

Librettos of Principal Murgas / 247 and moreover, the guard was tricked systems and radars all failed The Kremlin got angry, threw the pilot in jail saying traitor-kovich, spy-novich bad Petruska son of a bitchkas (refrain) Saltimbanquis to a hot rhythm . . . The Pope’s visit is announced again and the cross that caused such a fuss remains standing it was discussed so much at City Hall and at Parliament, let it remain, take it away, months of debate Catholics and Atheists hurling foolishness at one another But they didn’t consult an opinion that matters perhaps if they had asked, things would’ve been different Juan Public did not opine, his opinion would matter since the poor carry the cross every day, even though he is a believer he has to do all kinds of heresies to put food on his table Moving the ball, here comes the ping-pong with the most sensational themes of the year adding fuel to the fire, the Saltimbanquis bring song and dance for your enjoyment, greeting you upon arrival A very restless bull is in fashion he who wants to ride him gets thrown to the floor the last fellow that rode him had his two eggs made into mayonnaise

They robbed Town Hall, a trivial thing barely twenty-seven tons of sugar they blamed the ants, they were rats dressed in suits and ties (refrain) Saltimbanquis to a hot rhythm . . . They say this summer there will be thongs and bikinis with music incorporated Rock will sound in the front and behind, those who can will have the cumbia “The black man wants you” playing A referendum asked the people to sign if it wins no one will go to jail But History will tell, they’re already marked At a subconscious level, they are condemned (refrain) Saltimbanquis to a hot rhythm . . . Tight pants won all the prizes they show off stains for girls and boys how nice that speckled jeans came for lovers now they can make love to death, even standing up The retirees received no bonuses on New Year’s and Christmas Eve, they ate like stray dogs while the hand-picked political officials filled up their bellies In the name of the children, this trophy arrives care and homage to their elephant Leo who honored them so much on afternoons of splendor,

248 / Appendix when he balanced on his trunk at Villa Dolores His absence will leave a sad vacuum like the sadness of a child who has lost a friend this pain of ours will keep throbbing in his caring appearance of an arrogant pachyderm the Saltimbanquis remember you along with your Montevideo Change, everything changes, change, everything changes Carnival is singular, it is the people who change some want to forget, others seek to be named I only ask the people not to throw mud at the ones who paint their faces to jump on the caboose To be a murguista is to be a spokesperson of the popular perspective and to grow smiles with songs it is not to seek easy applause with sentimental verses where some pseudo-poet profits from the worker’s hunger I want to keep on singing but also conserving the flight that keeps me from brushing against that which creeps along the floor I want to be a Saltimbanqui, I chose it as destiny and to continue with my brothers in search of the same path Here is our praise to a murga that has remained unparalleled for half a century unchanged by the expectant neighborhoods Green Devils, honored in the constant sermon

the tenacious Antonio Iglesias knows how to bring forth a cup brimming with courage and decorum Carnival, along with the Devils, raises it in their Golden Weddings

Farewell (Dedicated to the guild of Newspaper and Magazine Vendors) Character 1 (spoken) Silence comes to the nests as it comes to the homes the trills and songs of shared dreams marry Character 2 Man and bird have wanted to return to their shelters to the great forest of life where one reflects in the other Character 1 For their souls’s fear of the stage surrounded by bars Character 2 Each day they resume their flights behind a painted face or wings thirsty for the sky Character 1 And they will fuse their desires of a libertarian flight a newsboy with his papers or a captured sparrow Character 2 Let today leave you its thrill Duo And the Saltimbanquis’ goodbye Chorus Spread your song poor sparrow the Saltimbanquis weave their illusion no bars keep them from flight (and they must fly) to offer in a goodbye,

Librettos of Principal Murgas / 249 their voice full of nostalgia, our heart . . . to Carnival Reborn in the name of a bird is the soul that gives life the flight that holds both storms and calms healing wounds restoring force to the falcon the trill of a thrush the sabia’s complaints but each day with the rebellious song of a people who want no bars Let them fly like the seagulls over the wild sea searching for a world where children laugh it will be a challenge Carnival and a dream allow us to be the errant bird that carries his faith through the night and into the tomorrow of the man puppet Persistent hornero, laborer, the beak and the hands cultivating love feverish worker, gentle hummingbird the rose of April opens through your determination

with your wings and soul dreaming chimeras poetry will come forth the cages are opened although they are made of gold, they have no use Singing between bars is only a complaint the aberrant trill that the neighborhoods never heard from their Saltimbanquis the voice of the street the reason of the people To leave, wanting to be tangled in your evocation the rhyme that wove our singing feeling the nostalgia of returning (from yesterday) They will come, your Saltimbanquis will come to enjoy with you, the friends of Carnival to renew a past desire They will return, they will return, free birds song of the people Saltimbanquis will return END

250 / Appendix

DON TIMOTEO (Seventh Prize, Official Contest, 1988) Cast Director

Wéllington Pérez

Chorus and coupleters

Carlos Orestes Scarpeli, Antonio Ostuni Taurisano, Carlos Eugenio Barrios, Carmelo Angel Gómez, Angel Patiño, Héctor Polanco, Luis Antonio Laurito, Eduardo Irineo Correa, Pablo Fernando Barrios, Sergio Horacio Correa, Luis Bayones, Rafael Alejandro Correa, Roberto Erasmo Alvez

Percussion Snare drum

Luis Alberto Charruti

Cymbals

José Antonio Martínez

Bass

Jorge Garrido

Set director

Juan Angel Díaz

Costumes and production

Luis Martínez

Lyrics

Eduardo “Tano” Di Lorenzo

General coordination

Juan “Chirola” Rosas, Héctor Martínez

Rehearsal location

Bar “Los Farolitos” (Boulevard Batlle y Ordóñez y Chiávari)

Librettos of Principal Murgas / 251

DON TIMOTEO, Libretto, 1988 Introduction spoken We returned from the Union, same as last year, expecting to find everything the same, the Summer Theater continues . . . dreaming, the people vibrate with the popular celebration where we see the worker having fun; the dear grandfather . . . It’s the time before we bring out the children who offer up their faces to have the true laughter of Uruguayan matrimony painted on. The pretty girls, enchanted by minstrels. The same applause, the same ardor, everything is the same. Don Timoteo and his family at Carnival, sparrows leave singing from our hearts toward your souls with their wings in flight and their voices fluttering, a thousand stars and poems depart from our hearts, shining brightly to bring a world of joy to your hearts with Tim Timoteo Tim Tim Timoteo, we start to get happy, timote-ing, timote-ing because we want to, with Tim Timoteo Tim Timoteo we go on singing and dancing. Timote-ing timote-ing throughout Montevideo. People, the people of Timoteo are . . . from La Blanqueada to La Unión, at Los Farolitos a friendly hand awaits you, an open door in Propios, many people in Chiávari. The people of Timoteo. Brazil, your Carnival is famous for fantasy and we emulate you with suits of lights and joy if we have here people who can shine and bring color to our Carnival through the murga, today our Uruguay receives its splendor. The sun comes out for all, the sun comes out for you, lighting up our party, it toasts us with heat and brings us the joy

of God Momo in Timoteo we will go through what has happened this year, together.

Potpourri of the Fools: A Rock Duet Attention, everyone, the Fools are coming Very soon, friends, our potpourri will begin . . . These Fools are first-class rockers they break whatever they want criticize everything sing to us foolishly tell us foolishly although you seem to be fools you don’t seem to swallow this Fool 1 In a subtle form the government has promised to give everyone housing, but not until the year 2000 Twelve years remain before we arrive at that date and today the worker thinks only about how to get to the end of the month Fool 2 Know, know, know, that with the coming of the Pope they put up a Cross for us the Town Hall doesn’t take it away and this has created concern The cross for our people would be a necessary good if it frightened away the vampires of the great Monetary Fund Fool 1 A propaganda campaign is announced you have to decide

252 / Appendix between denouncing AIDS and dying in silence But there are really two decisions if the people want life with health and democracy without impunity and AIDS Fool 2 The boys in uniform just had a strike while they were barbecuing the thieves didn’t stop stealing If you want them to increase salaries after only three days of striking let your hair down and dress up as a police officer Fool 1 They steal children from the hospital where are the mothers they throw babies into jars and this provokes us more For many, it seems too great to call themselves real mothers they never rock cradles or warm baby bottles Fool 2 There was a war between channels involving all sides in its foolish competition they look like a Carnival troupe While they show sex and violence, they madly censor our murgas (in addition to the little we are paid!) Fool 1 Don’t take us for fools not the foreign capital or the Chinese who have come to our waters to fish Banking privatization and anyone who is not a fool comments

that instead of protecting the banks they should show us how they spent the public funds Fool 2 Don’t take us for fools the Charles Atlases that today display their physique and toast to our health with a great spectacle seeing them with a lot of muscle even though it seems improbable that they would have any little tiny muscle, anywhere Fool 1 And messages of fiction sang sentimentalities they cried to the Jury for a better placement [in the Contest] Today with imported fabrics they glisten like delicacies they are changing their cars for the Union bus line Fool 2 It’s no foolishness that a couple has love when a politician gets married, now that is a different thing Marciano Aguirre got married and left his wife alone it’s just like MacGyver, he never uses his gun Fool 1 Don’t take us for fools the vetoes and the inflation and those in Parliament they sell out if one votes for the people there’s no agreement, no way but to vote for their own salaries everyone raises their hands

Librettos of Principal Murgas / 253 Fool 2 They played under the snow Porto with Peñarol everything froze in a very intense cold

I showed my breasts I am not like Thatcher and this is no joke hers are made of iron and mine are rubber

One of the soccer balls exploded because it was frozen thank goodness the boys had theirs covered up

When I go to Germany I am knocked down because the German women are more ‘tit’-onic, the Swedish had them longer and the Galicians have them squared

The Fools go now with their joy leaving their messages for today

Couplet of La Chicholina, the Italian Porn Star Turned Politician Host A bold female parliamentarian came from Italy this chick is . . . she’s naked . . . and it’s a pleasure to have her here, she’s La Chicholina Chicholina I am la Chicholina, the great representative She comes from a degenerate family mama went to the acts of her party she showed off one of her half-fallen implants Host Her father showed up in underwear and when they applauded him he took them off, the naked grandfather shouted vote and the grandmother wore nothing but knickers Tell us about your political beginnings, Chicholina, and don’t be ashamed of what they must think Chicholina I became a politician happily there in the Parliament

Host Killer Chicholina, who got into politics, tell us of your experiences as you go around the world Chicholina It was my first experience in Africa with Apartheid it was a black man who took me apart and carried me to his hut My name is Saca Zulu he told me with concern and although his name was Saca I called him Poné Zulú1 Refrain: I am the divine Chicholina I am the best girl around I am a poorly judged delegate and I’ll tell you how it began A Brazilian senator taught me to speak in Portuguese I studied with him alone and peeled his penis2 at Maracaná grab my banana, he said I got drunk with caipiriña and gave him a good kick in the balls (refrain) I am the divine Chicholina . . . Ronald Reagan was telling me not to have ‘Miami Mississippi’3

254 / Appendix I didn’t make it to the water closet, I peed on myself he shouted I shat on myself I’ll give you the translation hurry, hand me the potty-trainer it seems that I am . . . (refrain) I am the divine Chicholina . . . One day I went to see the Pope I saw him come out on a great balcony above a tumult of loyal followers happy and humble, he greeted them that man raised his arms, like this [probably making a gesture referring to a large size] with a happy gesture A nun said, it’s a lie I know it very well, it’s little, like this [probably making a gesture referring to a small size] (refrain) I am the divine Chicholina . . . I met with the Chinese feminists in Chinacoochieland Like our gauchos’ women they also adore the long, stuffed sausage A little Chinese man came he told me, come my big-bottomed Chicholina neither sausage nor pepperoni I barely have a little weiner (refrain) I am the divine Chicholina . . . A French politician said to me opené la petit and I will put my baguette in, madame it’s tres hard, indeed I answered no,

Monsieur Representative, suck my tité he shouted, I saw it! then I closed my leggés (refrain) I am the divine Chicholina . . . I participated in a big conference for disarmament there was a lame man at my side he had a limp flower for a pistol hobbling along, he crudely said to me, suck me I said I don’t fuck well, you ugly cripple he said, it didn’t matter, you’ll learn (refrain) I am the divine Chicholina . . . In Paraguay I went to a Congress they plied me with tereré that gave me diarrheaté if you could see how much I shaté I started to sweat, and got outé as fast as I could, I pressed my cheeks together but still a piece of shit came outé (refrain) I am the divine Chicholina . . . I came to show pornography to the Uruguayan politician, and entering Parliament I showed off my breast to everyone In the House of Government I showed it to the one I told you about I brought my breast out into the open and each one of his eyebrow hairs got as hard as sticks At Carnival today I am Chicholina The people laugh day and night

Librettos of Principal Murgas / 255 The people dance day and night We apologize to the ladies, this was just a fantasy

and when you go to the National Power Company, they’ll attend to you very politely

This is Timoteo seeking joy The people dance day and night

Chorus Everything will be inexpensive Inflation won’t exist

Couplet of the President Character I always dream about being president and I’m really gonna make it come true I already have everything arranged no one is unemployed Chorus Come, dare to dream . . . Character A television in each home and a huge refrigerator already half full Chorus Come, dare to dream . . . Character Our people won’t remain like this, even with my little salary I myself will pay it I already ordered the beaches to be cleaned up and holes in the streets to be filled Don Retiree will be happy he’ll eat every day Chorus Come, dare to dream . . . Character He’ll get a lot of money and his check at the end of the month he’ll even eat meat Chorus Come, dare to dream . . . Character I lowered the electricity and water bills

Character And me, I don’t want a thing except for the National Party to win Chorus Come, dare to dream . . . Character For the members of the Broad Front, from my heart I send you the best of luck, for me, for me, for me, I don’t want a thing not even the votes of the Colorados gentlemen, follow my little advice be very careful if you’re going to cross the street Chorus Come, dare to dream . . . Character Car registration fees will be very low everybody will be able to drive around and the traffic police won’t give out any tickets Character Everyone will have their well-beings secured fat cows will walk about don’t think at all daddy will take care of everything there will be no more five-star hotels in Uruguay and I’ll throw out all the foreign capital who have come here, I’ll show scorn for the interest they charge me,

256 / Appendix the land will be for all, I swear it for Nacional

how it was, the two ticket takers tell it with pleasure.

Chorus In the Parliament there won’t be any more fights All the parties will agree The legislators will earn little And they’ll think only of the people

We left from Central Station on an unknown course that was the last trip before our dismissal because it was the End of the Year the train was full everyone was on board there were even people in the bathrooms

Character Asiaín, courage! there will be no more trips what are you going to do, I got entangled with the small-time smuggler, now I want your support to fight the big-time smuggler I’ll give hope to education, our little soldiers will be saints, and if it doesn’t go well, I’ll do it myself, I promise that I’ll give up my membership to Peñarol Chorus I will support the strike Indeed, I’ll organize a general strike myself Long live Reagan and Fidel Character Friends, now I say goodbye and to my people I say don’t do anything the same Keep it quiet, thank you very much after all we’re in a democracy Chorus Come, dare to dream . . .

The Last Train Take a fantasy trip on the trains of the hullabaloo. Two characters take Don Timoteo onto the case of the railroad train. The onboard ticket takers are homesick on this train, longing for the happy days of the past. They tell of that train trip, oh

With one jerk I fell against the door and the pain was so intense that I clutched my legs a woman told me to do as Pascual does I asked, what does Pascual do? huddles close, but pees on himself just the same I began to ask everyone for their tickets with no joking a street girl took me to the bathroom there we played the little choo-choo all the way I made her choo-choo-choo with pleasure she touched my whistle and I rang the bell But at lunchtime a fight broke out amid drinks and dishes two cowboys fought for a woman one grabbed a tomato and squashed it on the other’s head the other squeezed an egg and made mayonnaise A savage call to arms began and the real trouble began people and animals were flying about chickens, ducks, parrots an animal-loving old woman had a decrepit parrot

Librettos of Principal Murgas / 257 that fell on me, and there I stayed with her parrot in my ear A priest with a nun ate cookies right there the priest said to her take the two that you want just as she was choosing, this dance began the little nun fell to the floor picking out the friar’s two balls Respect! said a blonde chick I am Pepa Velasco she had a good last name but her first brought disgust and her panties went right out the window, breaking the stick of a black man on the caboose A fat lady fell over she stayed with her legs hanging out I saw all of Black River with her dam split and flooded The fat lady had a tangerine in her hand and by the way she stayed on the floor with the slices fully open Refrain: Follow the two ticket takers telling of the trip and although they are crazy everyone should stay aboard Laugh without crossing but listen to all the depravity of this trip Choo choo, choo choo choo choo, choo choo goes the train with great concern and so, ticket takers, without relaxing tell them how it was, the last journey

As we passed through a tunnel there was darkness and euphoria a red-headed man was shouting let go of my carrot A woman and a one-eyed man ate polenta with bird sauce she remained without polenta and he with his bird lost Between stews and shouts the fight came and went the cowboy from Rivera shouted let go, this beam is mine all of a sudden he grabbed a sausage and there he remained, pensive feeling in the dark then, he shouted for top choice steak, it’s too flaccid They put the cord from a recorder under a widow and she felt, underneath her, El Sabalero singing I asked her if I should take it away she said no enthusiastically since my husband died no one ever plugs anything in me They tore up the panties of a skinny, neckless girl and loosened the earrings of a chubby girl in the bathroom two policemen were found naked in this depravity one with the stick above him and the other with the pistol below The people came through the corridors from other cars the café steward was shouting and the entire clientele was applauding an old man flew toward the chandelier and stayed soft his one eye blinking and his two tassels hanging down

258 / Appendix Two gay tennis players stroked each other with their rackets until the butch triumphed when he bit his little tennis ball A couple on the ceiling climbed on top of each other with no shame he said I’ll do you once, better yet, I’ll do you four times The train was boiling It passed through Dicky Town the gatekeeper was drunk he shouted, “train coming through, score!” I opened the door of the year when I saw a very calm fat lady then I closed the door as fast as I could, yelling next stop: Butt Square In the middle of the tracks a suicidal man was standing the jolt was so great that the train jumped up while inside, the fat lady left the bathroom for a while she gushed like a faucet they broke her plug And so we were derailed with such a great clatter knives, platters, plates, and training pots flew through the air a fat woman with her boyfriend were ensconced under a bench I shouted in Dickville, stop she said oh, they discovered us In alarm, I gave her my elbow the fat lady stooped over I pushed her and like a fire alarm, how the fat lady rang I continued sticking my elbow in and she said, how marvelous

I looked outside and shouted here we are at Cuntville We arrived at our destination in complete disarray the journalists took thousands of photos on all sides I have a memento, a picture with the fat lady in the foreground naked, blocking everything with a willy in each hand Although the train reaches its destination our destination is dark because the Railroad Worker goes without severance or security they privatize and liquidate with foreign currencies we are in danger that some day, they’ll plant another flag

Farewell to the Laughter In parting we see a buffoon who comes to sing to you from an old kingdom, the land of illusion, the bells ring, the goodbye is here in a magic instant, the ultimate motive, this great clown, a smiling imp, leaves his heart, the laughter is over; I am the character that Montevideo decided to name Timoteo Garrik Arlequino, who leaves laughter behind, and I come dressed in old joys but the dream of all murguistas (murguista, I am a murguista) is to see Cantinflas and Chaplin performing with me as keepers of laughter, that would be my adored dream . . . dream . . . dream . . . In his soul, who does not have a big Chaplin with a moustache and cane to make you smile together with that child seated in a doorway, he gave you happiness and if you laugh, the flower, the sea, the blue sky, the birds and the sun and that boy all laugh, with his laughter he

Librettos of Principal Murgas / 259 gave us handfuls of love . . . laugh for in your heart a Cantinflas is making an unreal dream, a puppetlike voice, the walking mime, the clown, the buffoon, the very flesh of Carnival in your heart, a Cantinflas who made you burst out laughing . . . this is great comedy. Here are all three: Cantinflas, Chaplin, Timoteo . . . with their good humor, within the being, today’s laughter is the world’s desire to achieve its goal, the freedom to smile.

laugh, those miserable ones who never laugh or imprison their laughter, they are the impoverished peoples

Recitation

All three They can’t drown out your laughter! Come to laugh, Timoteo invites you to let your healthy laughter spring forth and the guffaws explode, come to laugh and together we will search for the smiles that the country lost all at once, be happy people and laugh again today with Timoteo, show all of your joy today.

Timoteo Come Charlot and Cantinflas, our laughter unites to fight the life that is weary with pain Cantinflas Today we see that the distress of laughter is disguised and false laughter brings honor to betrayal Timoteo If at times the peoples stop their laughing or are not permitted to

Chaplin Laugh man, child, woman, old one it is better to cry with laughter than to laugh without crying Cantinflas If we laugh together, shouting I will not be quiet, never again, people of Uruguay . . .

(encore) END

260 / Appendix

ANTI-MURGA BCG (Sixth Prize, Official Contest, 1988) Directors

Eduardo Ferreiro and Hugo Recuero

Set director

Jorge Esmóris

Assistant director

Daniel Moreira

Choral arrangements

Rafael Antognazza

Lyrics

Jorge Esmóris

Firsts

Hugo Recero, Javier Navarro, José Telechea, Mario Castro, George Yegyahian, Pablo Rossi

Alto firsts

Gabriela Gómez, Andrea Ibarra

Seconds

Rafael Antognazza, Eduardo Rimoldi, Enrique Bastos, Eduardo Steiner, Mario Santana

Basses

Fernando Alonso, Walter Venencio, Ricardo Pissurno

Snare drum

Sergio Dalzotto

Bass drum

Julio Icasurriaga

Cymbals and pans

Wismar Alonzo

Saxophone

José Telechea

Trumpet and tuba

Enrique Bastos

Charleston and conga drums

Walter Venencio

Material preparation

María Nilsa Luzardo

Props

Fernando Martínez, José María González, Alvaro Núñez

Props made by

Anti-murga BCG Casa Solidaria

Momo masks and suits

Jorge Añón

Graphic design / Libretto illustrations

Javier Navarro

Librettos of Principal Murgas / 261

ANTI-MURGA BCG, Libretto, 1988 It’s February [Bugles sound and a distorted and shrill version of a known melody is heard. “Bonanza”? A squadron of pirates? conquerers? fascinerosos? (swords in hand, making faces and shouting) appears from the orchestra section, crosses it and goes onstage.] Chorus the second month of the year the one with fewer days the one that sometimes makes a leap year the one of a very varied climate and in which it is already the custom that, in different neighborhoods, structures are built with second-hand wood and rusty tanks where many people get together, seated and standing for many hours they remain almost hypnotized and also lobotomized from seeing such an old thing although no one complains any more because it’s tradition that in the month already mentioned, one celebrates and parties with a warm greeting a triumphant embrace unparalleled bohemia a passionate new glow the Carnival of Uruguay the Carnival of Uruguay the Carnival the Carnival the Carnival of Uruguay ruguay guay Ay!

We Are Who We Are We are who we are but you see others We are sick and tired of you seeing us as a bunch of madmen. It’s not that easy after all to renovate our inventiveness. To surprise you each year and fulfill your expectations. What do you want from us when will you be satisfied, only when our blood runs through the sets. [Holding IV tubes with one arm, going into the veins of the other] You wait for us as if for a god, coming to purify you. You wait for us, excited, your eyeballs popping out of your heads. If we come off the stage you say that we repeat ourselves and if we stop coming off the stage, you say: they are not the same anymore. What do you want from us what is it that you imagine that instead of human beings we are battery-operated dolls. We are just a group of guys fabulous and gentile precious and wonderful let’s say, unequalled. We are tender and gallant generous, captive We are pure crystalline simply divine simply divine simply divine . . .

262 / Appendix How My Complaint Complains Ladies and Gentlemen . . . They say that true humor begins when one stops taking oneself seriously. That is, when a person has the capacity to laugh at himself, then it seems that humor is fully lived. Therefore, this grouping, classified as oppositional, is intended to carry forth a protest song elevated to its maximum potential. The title is “How my complaint complains.” Director Positions of protest, now! Chorus I complain you complain the complaint complained to us I protest you protest the protest protested we protest the complaint that complained and my complaint complains because it protested and my complaint complains because it protested complain to the complaint complain complainer the moan troubles me it troubles me for you I am exasperated I am irritated let’s say that at any moment I ride on anger let’s protest the complaint that bothered us and my complaint bothers you because it protested and my complaint bothers you because it protested you complaining complaint complaint complain complaintively complainer

what a whining complaint bother the one that complained complain complainer indian country cowboy motherland ombú tree dry fruit let’s protest the complaint that bothered us and my complaint bothers you because it protested and my complaint bothers you because it protested when I find a strange complaint I protest the complainer my complaintive groan bothers that complainer and my little complaints complain because I am a protestor I I I I I I

want want want want want want

happiness fraternity equality serenity tranquility to live in peace!

let’s protest the complaint that bothered us and my complaint bothers you because it protested and my complaint bothers you because it protested how my complaint complains! the complaint!

The Moralist Talks about the Comedian The moralist talks about the comedian the moralist talks about the comedian God protect us and Satan help us You take note and don’t lose the track You take note and don’t lose the track

Librettos of Principal Murgas / 263 Remember that the one talking is a moralist! Moralist A comedian . . . a comedian is an individual who speaks foolishness. He is unnecessary, he produces nothing. He has no use to society He only contributes to filth Parrotman He doesn’t consume too many consumer goods this is a terrorist attack on the laws of the market. Snailman He is a saboteur. (refrain) Moralist He has his principles and seeks the truth. He is very dangerous to the community. He says that money doesn’t keep him from sleeping And he predicts a world without bosses or owners. Snailman He leaves everything to be himself. Parrotman He’s suicidal (refrain) Moralist He is resentful toward society and wastes his time. He wanders about and never comes to port.

And his infantilism has no remedy. He says that by playing one can get to heaven. Parrotman He lacks norms and good customs. He destabilizes the establishment. Snailman He’s a subversive (refrain) Moralist He has no prejudices: he is immoral. He says to love all men: he is a homosexual. He educates his children, this wicked, unsavory character, without any decency and rots their minds. Snailman He says that his country is located in every part of the world. Parrotman He is a foreigner. (refrain) Moralist This is a plague from long-ago eras there was no way to exterminate them there is no way to exterminate them Chorus And there is no way to exterminate them

The Show of the Little Lies Director Ladies, gentlemen, girls and boys. Now we ask that all the liars here

264 / Appendix raise their hands. . . . Ah, how nice, how wonderful, not a single liar. It seems that tonight each one of you will return to your homes with your noses having grown a bit bigger. The moment has come to take off your masks! “The Show of the Little Lies” begins. . . .

i live and let live the insane are in the asylum (refrain) well, just a bit of coffee, yes how are you doing? . . . fine.

To the little lie . . . to the little lie . . . Some are pious others are very judicious To the little lie to the little lie they are spoken, they are silent they are also disguised the era of slavery is over when you’re older you’ll understand

you make the bread with the sweat of your brow . . . One lies too much for lack of fantasy and without catching on one lies, day after day Tintilín If you lie as a child your nose will grow if you lie when you’re big your checking account will grow

i am not a racist Another little lie for this audience Another little lie for this audience You should decide you should determine if it’s big or small. i had unforeseen expenses it doesn’t matter . . . . . . pay me when you can i do everything to lose weight we do it all for the nation

There are those who find the little lie in decay and those sustain her in full and brutal utility. Tintilín There are three types of lies the lie the damned lie and statistics. The lie seems like a snowball because by rolling around and around it only grows and grows.

(refrain)

Tintilín

i’ll be right back

What can’t be a lie can be a half-truth.

i am not jealous salary increases generate inflation (refrain)

The art of the lie is almost a career so that the art is never lost we have to teach it in school.

Librettos of Principal Murgas / 265 Tintilín When a lie is flavored adequately, a law is made so rich and tasty, it’s finger-licking good There is something that hurts and discourages the lie its Doctrine lost force with the 600,000 signatures

Momo Well, ladies and gentlemen, we are very happy to be here, always at the same time and on the same stage, here at the Monument of Control . . . [Graffigna, you have a barbaric hatred for us . . . do you think that we are all bankers that enter at one o’clock?] At closing . . . we seem like Julia Moller . . . But all the same, it’s an honor for us to be in this beautiful little . . . great . . . stage . . . of a great heart, to celebrate a new Carnival . . . Much is said about Carnival, but one doesn’t always know what it is, where that magic little word comes from . . . Carnival comes from the Latin and signifies “carne vale” or “value the flesh,” implying something like everything is permitted. Party par excellence, Carnival has its own laws and its own god. Son of the dream and the night, majestic in his simplicity, Momo, eternal clown, will be invoked by his humble servants so that all mortals rise with the immortality of the burlesque spirit. Refrain: Momo enters my body and my body is his Momo enters my body and I feel fine. My head spins around my feet tremble

my ears sharpen, and my eyes as well. [In the scene, the presence of Momo is invoked. From behind the set a procession of satyrs, bacchantes, and children carrying cornets comes forth and circulates among the public. The satyrs sit down among the spectators, fondling them and causing great laughter and lewdness.] From time immemorial God Momo is arriving he will cast a spell on everyone with his dances and rituals. He awakens the hullabaloo that soon moves toward frenzy for everyone, he’ll bring to life their known orgies. Momo They say that I am a pagan god but I couldn’t care less I enjoy the banal when I can and I am always in heat. The satyrs want to initiate the trance they are the ones who officiate the ritual pagan festival. I am going to erase these faces and transform their minds I will change everything tonight they will become others. Their kingdom is Carnival their temple lies in their sins they want women at their sides, their ages do not matter. (refrain) Bachanal, Bachanal, Bachanal, free of cares Momo Mortals, do not resist my magic power

266 / Appendix hold on to desire let it take you over. (refrain) What’s going on with my dear old folks I don’t see you enjoying yourselves pretend that it’s forty years earlier. (refrain) Everyone, let go of your judgment, stop paying attention to what others say let your instinct blossom take your dreams out for a walk. Satyr [among the spectators] Silence . . . silence . . . Now . . . dear mortals, the greatest fool on earth wants to invite you to a macabre game . . . Aaahhh . . . Momo wants to know if you are ready to play, are you? The game that we will begin is not fun or sad, it is more of a mystery than a game. Among everyone, singing to Momo, we will bring death. And after a little while when he is dead, we will reveal the mystery that exists around him. All Die, Momo! Die! Die, Momo! die . . . ! [Momo comes back to life, revealing the mystery of his resurrection and death: Immortal Momo, dies and is reborn before their eyes. Cries of agony become shrieks of laughter] Momo comes back to life, Momo comes back to life. Momo comes back to life, Momo comes back to life.

Toward future smiles Momo opens his arms to lose himself in the eternity of his steps Where does your name come from? Momo . . . answer! Son of the dream and the night from a dark and tranquil cradle he amuses you with his sarcasm and punishes you with his irony. Who hides from you? Momo . . . answer! Nothing escapes his eyes that always shine with attention bigshots and fools alike fear his words. Are you a god, a devil or a human being? Tell me Momo . . . answer! [Silence. Suspense.] Momo What I am is what I do what I have is what I carry with me My kingdom does not pertain to Heaven or Hell. [The rhythm continues, the melody and dance circulate for a while. Moments before leaving the stage, the director steps forward:] Director The celebration of victory, the day of solidarity and world peace, that day is close at hand. We will call on Carnival to crown that party. And then, for the most humble, will be the Day of Disguises, Masks and Burlesque. And it will be a day of mourning for the sacred goods and the most encumbered.

Librettos of Principal Murgas / 267

Welcome to This Land / Bienvenidos a esta tierra Director We live our times, there is no doubt. Renewed times. Let’s not look at ourselves in the past. Gentlemen, enough of Maracaná, Sorocabana, Ayuí, the Old Country. We should look forward. There is the goal. For this reason, this group, which is inseparable from the modernization that will take Uruguay onto new tracks (because the old ones rattle too much), wants to propose to the people, so that they can advance along with this modernization, a new anthem to be shared so that this great developed world can look at us avidly, that here in Uruguay and especially in the BCG, we are prepared to receive the new modernization. Ok, boys, begin! [Rhythm of marching, choreography of a parade, the director in front with a baton] Welcome to this land you sacred multinationals that, with altruistic goals, will solve all our problems Refrain: You are welcome, welcome, welcome, to tell us what our destiny will be. Let’s speak our language correctly: fútbol . . . . . sánguche . . . orsai. . . . . . Playa Pascual básquetbol . . fau . . . . . . .

. . . . . .

. . . . . .

. . . . . .

. . . . . .

. . . . . .

soccer sandwich offside Pascual Beach basketball foul

yo soy. . . . . . . . . . I am independencia1 . . . . City Bank Welcome to this land welcome, Private Banks with altruistic goals you give everything and ask for nothing. Welcome to this land, welcome Monetary Fund with your good intentions our salaries will go up. (refrain) Let’s continue speaking our language correctly, the colors: verde . . . . green marrón . . . brown blanco . . . white rojo2. . . . . communist criminal! amarillo . . yellow azul . . . . . blue gris . . . . . gray negro3. . . . Son of a bitch Mandela . . . Apartheid! Welcome to this land welcome, intermediaries who will make of Uruguay a comfortable seaside resort Welcome to this land welcome, five-star hotels so that our people can enjoy some lovely vacations. (refrain) Let’s continue speaking our language correctly: bueno, bo, ’ta . mate. . . . . . . garrapiñada . . extensión territorial4 . trabajador5. . . sindicato6. . . . democracia7 . .

. . . good, okay . . . a yerba drink . . . popcorn . . . .

. . . .

. . . .

parking knock out aesthetic center striptease

268 / Appendix Welcome to this land welcome to the Uruguayan miracle with the Free Zones, you will legalize contraband.

larairara laira Larairara lairara

Welcome to this land welcome, profound changes where José Artigas once was let’s put Rambo.

Goodbye, people, goodbye! To be or not to be . . . That is the question. Goodbye, people, goodbye. Remember this night, people . . . goodbye.

Refrain: [In the style of a “Retirada,” the classic melody of Asaltantes con patente:]

Happy Happy Happy Happy

Laraira la rará lairará lairará

Carnival . . . to you Carnival . . . to you Carnival . . . dear people! Carnival . . . to you . . . END

Notes Prologue 1. Osvaldo Sunkel, “Transnational Capitalism and National Disintegration in Latin America,” Social and Economic Studies 22 (1973); Luis Stolovich, “Un mundo capitalista en transformación” and “Rasgos generales del nuevo ciclo,” in “El ciclo de hegemonía compartida,” Poder económico y empresas extranjeras en el Uruguay actual, Serie Los poderosos 3 (Montevideo: Centro Uruguay Independiente/Ciedur, 1989); Anthony Giddens, The Consequences of Modernity (Stanford, Calif.: Stanford University Press, 1990); David Harvey, The Condition of Postmodernity: An Enquiry into the Origins of Cultural Change (Oxford and Cambridge, Mass.: Basil Blackwell, 1989); Martin Carnoy et al., The New World Economy in the Information Age (University Park: Pennsylvania State University Press, 1993). 2. Hebert I. Schiller, Culture Inc.: The Corporate Takeover of Public Expression (New York: Oxford, 1991). 3. Danilo Astori, “Un enfoque económico de la marginalidad,” in Los “marginados” uruguayos: Teoría y realidad (Montevideo: Ediciones de la Banda Oriental, 1986); Guillermo O’Donnell, Modernization and Bureaucratic Authoritarianism, Studies in South American Politics (Berkeley: Institution for International Studies, University of California, 1973). 4. José Joaquín Brunner, La cultura autoritaria en Chile (Santiago: FLACSO/ University of Minnesota, 1981). 5. Gerónimo de Sierra, El Uruguay post-dictadura: Estado, política y actores (Montevideo: Facultad de Ciencias Sociales, Departamento de Sociología, 1992). 6. Paulo de Carvalho Neto, El carnaval de Montevideo: Folklore, historia, sociología, Publicaciones del Seminario de Antropología Americana 9 (Seville: Facultad de Filosofía y Letras, University of Seville, 1967), and Gustavo Diverso, Murgas: La representación del carnaval (Montevideo, 1989). 7. Antonio Plácido, Carnaval: Evocación de Montevideo en la historia y la tradición (Montevideo: Letras, 1966); Milita Alfaro, Carnaval: Una historia social de Montevideo desde la perspectiva de la fiesta, El carnaval “heróico” (1800 –1872) (Montevideo: Trilce, 1991); José Pedro Barrán, Historia de la sensibilidad en el Uruguay (1800–1920) (Montevideo: Ediciones de la Banda Oriental, 1990); Lauro Ayestarán, La música en el Uruguay (Montevideo, 1953); Renzo Pi Hugarte and Daniel Vidart, El legado de los inmigrantes (Montevideo: Nuestra Tierra, 1969); Ildefonso Pereda Valdés, El negro en el Uruguay (Montevideo,

269

270 / Notes to Chapter 1 1965); Paulo de Carvalho Neto, Investigaciones sociológicas afro-uruguayas (Quito, 1963), and El carnaval de Montevideo; Marcelino Bottaro, “Rituals and Candombes” in Nancy Cunard, Negro Anthology (London, 1934); Carlos Rama, Los afro-uruguayos (Montevideo, 1967); Lauro Ayestarán, Flor de María de Ayestarán and Alejandro Ayestarán, El tamboril y la comparsa (Montevideo: Arca, 1990). 8. Coriún Aharonián, “¿De dónde viene la murga?” in Brecha, March 2, 1990. 9. In Murgas: La representación del carnaval, Gustavo Diverso describes the formal aspects of the representation of current murgas. On the other hand, in his report to the first Congress of the Uruguayan Carnival (1990), Antonio Iglesias offers a brief history of the murgas focusing on social and historical issues, providing economic and administrative data. 10. Carvalho Neto, El carnaval de Montevideo. 11. Arnold Hauser and Augusto Boal describe the same theme with reference to the history of ancient Greek theater. 12. Alfaro, Carnaval. 13. Aside from the texts already mentioned, I am thinking of, for example: Maren and Marcelo Viñar, Fracturas de memoria: Crøacutenicas para una memoria por venir (Montevideo: Ediciones Trilce, 1993); Fernando Andacht, Signos reales del Uruguay imaginario (Montevideo; Ediciones Trilce, 1992); Tereza Porzecanski, Rituales: Ensayos antropológicos sobre umbanda, ciencias sociales y mitologías (Montevideo: LA Retta Libros Ed., 1991); Hugo Achugar, La biblioteca en ruinas: Reflexiones desde la perferia (Montevideo: Ediciones Trilce, 1994); Luciano Alvarez, Los héroes de las siete y media: Los noticieros en la televisión uruguaya (Montevideo: Centro Latinoamericano de Economía Humana: Ediciones de la Banda Oriental, 1988); the essays compiled by Hugo Achugar and Gerardo Caetano in Identidad uruguaya: ¿Mito, crisis o afirmación? (Montevideo: Ediciones Trilce, 1992); or Cultura(s) y nación en el Uruguay de fin de siglo, ed. Hugo Achugar (Montevideo: LOGOS: FESUR, 1991).

1. The Interpretation of National Culture from the Site of Popular Cultural Practice 1. For a review of the varied concepts of culture utilized throughout history see Raymond Williams, Keywords (New York: Oxford University Press, 1983); Dictionary of Sociology, ed. Nicholas Abercrombie et al. (London: Penguin, 1984); or in A Dictionary of Marxist Thought, ed. Tom Bottomore et al. (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1983). 2. Angel Rama, The Lettered City, ed. and trans. John Charles Chasteen (Durham, N.C.: Duke University Press, 1996). 3. Hernán Vidal, Literatura hispanoamericana e ideología liberal: Surgimiento y crisis: Una problemática sobre la dependencia en torno a la narrativa del boom (Buenos Aires: Hispamérica, 1976).

Notes to Chapter 1 / 271 4. Mabel Moraña, Literatura y cultura nacional en Hispanoamérica (1910– 1940) (Minneapolis: Institute for the Study of Ideologies and Literatures, 1984). 5. On the symbolic-discursive dimension of spatial and architectural experience see, for example, Walter Benjamin, Reflections (1927–1933); Edward T. Hall, The Silent Language (1959) and The Hidden Dimension (1969); Barbara Miller Lane, Architecture and Politics in Germany 1918–1945 (1968); Aldo Rossi, The Architecture of the City (1982); Henry Lefebvre, The Production of Space (1974); Manfredo Tafuri, Architecture and Utopia (1976); Yi-Fu Tuan, Space and Place: The Perspective of Experience (1977); and more recently, Fredric Jameson, “Architecture and the Critique of Ideology,” in Architecture, Criticism and Ideology, ed. Joan Ockman (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton Architectural Press, 1985), “Spatial Equivalents in the World System” and “Utopianism after the End of Utopia,” in Postmodernism, or, The Cultural Logic of Late Capitalism (Durham, N.C.: Duke University Press, 1991); or David Harvey, Consciousness and the Urban Experience (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1985) and The Condition of Postmodernity (Cambridge: Basil Blackwell, 1989); or Rosalyn Deutsche, “Uneven Development: Public Art in New York City,” in Out There: Marginalization and Contemporary Cultures, ed. Russell Ferguson, et al. (Cambridge: Mass.: MIT Press, 1990). 6. Hugo Achugar, “Between Two Shores: Necessary Bridges,” in Repression, Exile, and Democracy: Uruguayan Culture, ed. Saúl Sosnowski and Louise B. Popkin, trans. Louise B. Popkin (Durham, N.C.: Duke University Press, 1993). 7. Alvaro Barros Lémez, Paralaje y circo: Ensayos sobre sociedad, cultura y comunicación (Montevideo: Monte Sexto, 1987). 8. Mabel Moraña, Memorias de la generación fantasma: Crítica literaria 1973 –1988 (Montevideo: Monte Sexto, 1988). 9. Abril Trigo, Caudillo, Estado, Nación: Literatura, historia e ideología en el Uruguay (Gaithersburg, Md.: Hispamérica, 1990). 10. Hugo Achugar, ed., Cultura(s) y nación en el Uruguay de fin de siglo (Montevideo: Trilce, 1991). 11. To a certain degree, as descendants of cultural anthropology and of the first essays of cultural criticism by Walter Benjamin (in his reflections on Berlin, Moscow, Marseille, Naples, or Paris), Antonio Gramsci (on education, emerging culture, popular ideologies, popular literature, folklore), Michel Foucault (on the prison, asylum, hospital, the body, sexuality, and medicine), Roland Barthes (on the Eiffel Tower, the face of Greta Garbo, the phenomenon of wrestling, the striptease), Raymond Williams (on mass communication, the institutionalization of cultural production), more recent texts and collections have dedicated themselves to cultural criticism than to literary works, per se. Some examples are Clifford Geertz, The Interpretation of Cultures (New York: Basic Books, 1973); Yi-Fu Tuan, Landscapes of Fear (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1979); or Segmented Worlds and the Self (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1982); The Anti-Aesthetic: Essays on Postmodern Culture,

272 / Notes to Chapter 1 ed. Hal Foster (Seattle: Bay Press, 1983); Victor Turner, The Anthropology of Performance (New York: PAJ Publications, 1983); Hernán Vidal, Poética de la población marginal: Fundamentos materialistas para una historiografía estética (Minneapolis: Prisma, 1987) and Poética de la población marginal: Sensibilidades determinantes, ed. James Romano (Minneapolis: Prisma, 1987); Marxism and the Interpretation of Culture, ed. Cary Nelson and Lawrence Grossberg (Urbana and Chicago: University of Illinois Press, 1988); John Fiske, Reading the Popular (Boston: Unwin Hyman, 1989); Pierre Bourdieu, “On Sports” or “Social Space and Symbolic Power” in Other Words (Stanford, Calif.: Stanford University Press, 1990); Rethinking Popular Culture: Contemporary Perspectives in Cultural Studies, ed. Chandra Mujerki and Michael Schudson (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1991); William Rowe and Vivian Schelling, Memory and Modernity. Popular Culture in Latin America (London: Verso, 1991); Fredric Jameson, Postmodernism, or, The Cultural Logic of Late Capitalism (Durham, N.C.: Duke University Press, 1991). 12. This passage on the functionalist approach to the popular, as well as the subsequent presentations of the immanent theories, García Canclini’s proposal, and Brunner’s critique were taken from the position that Hernán Vidal develops more broadly in “The Notion of Otherness within the Frame of National Cultures,” in Gestos (Irvine: University of California-Irvine, 1992). 13. Néstor García Canclini, Transforming Modernity: Popular Culture in Mexico, trans. Lidia Lozano (Austin: University of Texas Press, 1993). 14. José Joaquín Brunner, “Notas sobre cultura popular, industria cultural y modernidad,” discussion materials, FLACSO program, Santiago de Chile, no. 70, June 1985. 15. Pierre Bourdieu, Reproduction in Education, Society and Culture (Beverly Hills, Calif.: Sage Publications, 1977); “The Uses of the People” (1982), “The Intellectual Field: A World Apart” (1985), and “Social Space and Symbolic Power” (1986), in Other Words: Essays Towards a Reflexive Sociology (Stanford, Calif.: Stanford University Press, 1990). 16. Antonio Gramsci, Selections from Cultural Writings, ed. David Forgacs and Geoffrey Nowell Smith (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1985); An Antonio Gramsci Reader: Selected Writings 1916–1935, ed. David Forgacs (New York: Schocken Books, 1988). 17. Other efforts to confront this same problem are found, for example, in Rubén Olivera, “Política y cambios culturales” and “La relación entre arte y cultura,” Brecha, April 28, 1989; in the distinct positions of Jesús Martín Barbero, Nestór García-Canclini, José J. Brunner, etc., included in Las políticas culturales en América Latina, ed. Jorge Cornejo-Polar (Lima: Centro de Ediciones, 1989); or more recently in William Rowe and Vivian Schelling’s Memory and Modernity: Popular Culture in Latin America (London: Verso, 1991). 18. For an exploration of the relationship between social experience and the construction of its meaning, with particular regard to the existence of different elaborations or proposals of meaning as a result of different experiences of the

Notes to Chapter 1 / 273 same social fact, see Pavel Medvedev and Mikhail Bakhtin, The Formal Method in Literary Scholarship: A Critical Introduction to Sociological Poetics (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1985); or Valentin Voloshinov, Marxism and the Philosophy of Language (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1986). 19. Peter Berger and Thomas Luckmann, The Social Construction of Reality: A Treatise in the Sociology of Knowledge (New York: Doubleday & Co., 1967). 20. Jürgen Habermas, “The Public Sphere,” in Jürgen Habermas on Society and Politics: A Reader (Boston: Beacon Press, 1989). 21. The military and political apparatus, the judicial system, most bureaucratic employees of the state (in all of its diversity and expanse), the heads of the central bank, private economic groups, and the teams of advisors who cling like cysts or parasites to institutions of the state, etc., all of which are neither democratically elected nor replaced with new governments. 22. James Petras and Morris Morley, Latin America in the Time of Cholera: Electoral Politics, Market Economics and Permanent Crisis (New York: Routledge, 1992). 23. Herbert I. Schiller, Culture, Inc. The Corporate Takeover of Public Expression (New York: Oxford University Press, 1989). 24. Fernando Ortiz, Cuban Counterpoint, Tobacco and Sugar, trans. Harriet de Onís (Durham, N.C.: Duke University Press, 1995). 25. Angel Rama, Transculturación narrativa en América Latina (Mexico: Siglo XXI, 1982). 26. Angel Rama, “Más allá de la ciudad letrada,” an interview with Mario Szichman in Espejo de escritores, ed. Reina Roffe (Hanover, N.H.: Ediciones del Norte, 1985). 27. Hugo Achugar, Poesía y sociedad (Uruguay 1880–1911) (Montevideo: Arca, 1985). 28. Washington Lockhart, “El pensamiento y la crítica,” in Capítulo Oriental 22, La historia de la literatura uruguaya (Montevideo: Centro Editor de América Latina, 1968). 29. Vidal, Literatura hispanoamericana e ideología liberal. 30. On the theoretical problem of the construction of the nation, nationality, and the national conscience, see, in addition to the books by Moraña, Trigo, and Vidal mentioned above, the following: José Carlos Mariátequi, Seven Interpretive Essays on Peruvian Reality, trans. Marjory Urquidi (Austin: University of Texas Press, 1993); Frantz Fanon, The Wretched of the Earth (New York: Grove Press, 1982); Horace Davis, Toward a Marxist Theory of Nationalism (New York: Monthly Review Press, 1978); Benedict Anderson, Imagined Communities: Reflections on the Origin and Spread of Nationalism (London: Verso, 1983); “Inventing Traditions” and “Mass-Producing Traditions: Europe (1870–1914),” in The Invention of Tradition, ed. Eric Hobsbawm and Terence Ranger (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1983); Eric J. Hobsbawm, Nations and Nationalism since 1780: Programme, Myth, Reality (New York: Cambridge University Press, 1990); Anthony Giddens, A Contemporary Critique of Historical

274 / Notes to Chapter 1 Materialism: Power, Property and the State and The Nation-State and Violence (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1981, 1987). 31. Luis Stolovich, “Los ciclos de la inversión extranjera en el Uruguay” in Poder económico y empresas extranjeras en el Uruguay actual, Serie Los Poderosos 3 (Montevideo: Centro Uruguay Independiente/Ciedur, 1989). 32. Enrique Méndez Vives, El Uruguay de la modernización: 1876–1904 (Montevideo: Ediciones de la Banda Oriental, 1985). 33. Alberto Zum Felde, Proceso histórico del Uruguay (1920) (Montevideo: Arca, 1991); and Proceso intellectual del Uruguay (1930), 3 vols. (Montevideo: Ediciones del Nuevo Mundo, 1987). 34. Méndez Vives, El Uruguay de la modernización; Achugar, Poesía y sociedad. 35. Benjamin Nahum, La época batllista (1905–1929), Historia Uruguay 6 (Montevideo: Ediciones de la Banda Oriental, 1986). 36. Lockhart, “El pensamiento y la crítica.” 37. Ibid. 38. Juan Rial, De mitos y memorias políticas (Montevideo: Ediciones de la Banda Oriental, 1986). 39. Benjamin Nahum et al., Crisis política y recuperación económica (1930– 1958), vol. 7 of Historia uruguaya (Montevideo: Ediciones de la Banda Oriental, 1987). 40. Luis Stolovich, “Los ciclos de la inversión extranjera en el Uruguay.” 41. For a sketch of this generation, see “Los críticos del 45” by Alberto Paganini, Colección Capítulo Oriental 35: Historia de la Literatura Uruguaya (Montevideo: Centro Editorial de América Latina, 1969). 42. John King, Magical Reels: A History of Cinema in Latin America (London: Verso, 1990). 43. Antonio Cándido and Roberto Schwarz, eds., La literatura latinoamericana como proceso (Buenos Aires: Bibliotecas Universitarias, Centro Editor de América Latina, 1985). 44. Françoise Perús, in “Claves de una literatura en movimiento,” Crisis (Buenos Aires, June 1988). 45. Vidal, Literatura hispanoamericana e ideología liberal. 46. Luis Stolovich, “Ciclo de hegemonía compartida,” in Poder económico y empresas extranjeras en el Uruguay actual (Montevideo: Centro Uruguay Independiente, 1989); and Danilo Astori, “Un enfoque económico de la marginalidad,” in Los marginados uruguayos: Teoría y realidad (Montevideo: Ediciones de la Banda Oriental, 1984). 47. Gerónimo de Sierra, El Uruguay post-dictadura: Estado, política y actores (Montevideo: Montevideo: Facultad de Ciencias Sociales, Departamento de Sociología, 1992). 48. Vidal, Literatura hispanoamericana e ideología liberal, 69–71. 49. Ibid.

Notes to Chapter 1 / 275 50. Luis Stolovich, “La inversión extranjera: mitos y realidades,” Brecha, December 15, 1989, 15–17. 51. Sunkel, “Transnational Capitalism and National Disintegration in Latin America.” 52. See Astori, “Un enfoque económico de la marginalidad.” 53. Rafael Varela, “Autoritarismo y dominación de clase en la cultura del Uruguay militarizado,” in The Discourse of Power: Culture, Hegemony and the Authoritarian State, ed. Neil Larsen (Minneapolis: Institute for the Study of Ideology and Literature, 1983). 54. Cuadernos del Centro de Estudios Estratégicos del Uruguay. Designed in the United States, “acclimated” in Brazil, and harbored by the military hierarchies of other regional armies, the DSN is a geopolitical positioning created by different continental military accords like the TIAR, the joint maneuvers of the Korean War, and the “need” to contain the advancement of nationalist and leftist sectors. The DSN is the master plan that still guides the armies, united in transnational conferences and apart from any fiscal connections to civil superiors. An example of this is the 1986 Conferencia de Ejércitos de Mar del Plata (Conference of the Armies of the River Plate Region). 55. Roger Rodríguez, “De generaciones,” Brecha, December 2, 1991. 56. Hugo Achugar, “Apuntes para una historia de la crítica uruguaya,” Cuadernos de Marcha 3, sixth year, June 1990; Jorge Rufinelli, “La crítica y los estudios literarios en el Uruguay de la dictadura (1973–1984),” Hispamérica 19, nos. 56, 57 (August–December 1990). 57. Diccionario de literatura uruguaya, 3 vols., compiled by Wilfredo Penco with the direction of Alberto Oreggioni (Montevideo: Arca/Credisol Publications, 1987, 1991). 58. Mario Sambarino, La cultura nacional como problema, Cuadernos de Nuestra Tierra 46 (Montevideo, 1970), and Identidad, tradición y autenticidad: Tres problemas de América Latina (Caracas: Centro de Estudios latinoamericanos “Rómulo Gallegos,” 1980). 59. This does not signify that Carnival, popular music, or comic reviews were out of the reach of the regime’s repression. On the contrary, Leo Maslíah, writing about the history of censorship and the repression of popular music during the dictatorship, repeatedly illustrated his argument that Carnival was where, in fact, textual censorship was inaugurated. 60. Eduardo Galeano, “The Dictatorship and Its Aftermath: The Hidden Wounds,” in Repression, Exile, and Democracy: Uruguayan Culture, ed. Saúl Sosnowski and Louise B. Popkin (Durham, N.C.: Duke University Press, 1993), 105. 61. Jorge Rufinelli, “Uruguay, Inside and Out,” in Sosnowski and Popkin, eds., Repression, Exile, and Democracy. 62. Carina Perelli, “Intervenciones II,” in the 1987 Spanish edition of the text, and “The Power of Memory and the Memory of Power,” in Sosnowski and Popkin, eds., Repression, Exile, and Democracy.

276 / Notes to Chapter 2 63. Alvaro Barros Lémez, “Uruguay: Redemocratization, Culture, Return from Exile (Is it Possible to Go Home Again?)” in Repression, Exile, and Democracy: Uruguayan Culture, ed. Saúl Sosnowski and Louise B. Popkin (Durham, N.C.: Duke University Press, 1993). 64. Juan Rial, “The Social Imaginary: Utopian Political Myths in Uruguay (Change and Permanence during and after the Dictatorship),” in Sosnowski and Popkin, eds., Repression, Exile, and Democracy: Uruguayan Culture. 65. Mauricio Rosencof, “Intervenciones IV,” in the 1987 Spanish edition. 66. Jorge Luis Borges, “The Aleph,” in The Aleph and Other Stories, ed. and trans. Norman Thomas di Giovanni (New York: E. P. Dutton, 1978), 23. 67. Ibid., 28. 68. Thomas Kuhn, “Preface,” in The Structure of Scientific Revolutions, 2nd ed. (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1970). 69. Alvaro Barros Lémez recounts some of these cultural practices in “Uruguay: Redemocratization, Culture,” 239–50. 70. Milita Alfaro and José Pedro Barrán, in their works cited above, and other writers have attempted to rewrite history from the perspective of subaltern cultural practices. 71. See Raymond Williams, Marxism and Literature (New York: Oxford University Press, 1977).

2. To Open Up the Night 1. Bertolt Brecht, Prologue of “Pequeño orgañon para el teatro,” Carta Cultural (Journal of the Cultural Division of the Communist Party of Uruguay) 1, no. 1 (1987). 2. “Las teorías de Galilei, escritas en lenguaje popular, se difunden entre el pueblo: cantores de baladas, panfletistas y juglares difundían las nuevas ideas, las ideas modernas, por todo el país. En el carnaval de 1632, numerosas ciudades eligieron como tema la astronomía para las comparsas de los gremios.” Paulo de Carvalho Neto, El carnaval de Montevideo: Folklore, historia, sociología, Publicaciones del Seminario de Antropología Americana 9 (Seville: Facultad de Filosofía y Letras, University of Seville, 1967), 44. 3. Ibid., 119. 4. Ibid., 45. 5. Ibid., 48. 6. Ibid., 49. 7. Ibid. 50 –51. 8. Ibid., 48. 9. See the works by Antonio Plácido, Renzo Pi Hugarte and Daniel Vidart, Paulo de Carvalho Neto, Lauro Ayestarán, and Milita Alfaro, previously cited. 10. See Milita Alfaro. 11. Carvalho Neto, El carnaval, 47. 12. Ibid., 170. 13. Ibid., 53.

Notes to Chapter 2 / 277 14. Ibid., 51. 15. See the works cited by Paulo de Carvalho Neto, Antonio Plácido, Juan Capagorry and Nelson Domínguez, and Gustavo Diverso. 16. Juan Capagorry and Nelson Domínguez, La murga: Antología y notas (Montevideo: Prisma, 1984), 8. 17. Carvalho Neto, El carnaval, 47. 18. Ibid., 53. 19. Mauricio Rosencof in Milita Alfaro and Carlos Bai, “Murga es el imán fraterno,” La Lupa de Brecha, February 14, 1986. 20. Ibid. 21. Carvalho Neto, El carnaval, 53. 22. Ibid., 170. 23. Montevideo Noticioso, February 9, 1894, cited by Gerardo Caetano and José Rilla in “La modernización,” Historia contemporánea del Uruguay (Montevideo: Fin de Siglo, 1994), 97. 24. Antonio Iglesias, Informe al I Congreso del Carnaval Uruguayo (Montevideo: DAECPU/Intendencia Municipal de Montevideo, 1990): 3–4. 25. See the works of Antonio Plácido, Paulo de Carvalho Neto, Antonio Iglesias, José Pedro Barrán, Milita Alfaro, and Gustavo Diverso. 26. Juan Rial, “El ‘imaginario social’ uruguayo y la dictadura: Los mitos políticos de (re)construcción,” in Carina Perelli and Juan Rial, De mitos y memorias políticas, (Montevideo: EBO, 1986). 27. Diverso, Murgas, 14. 28. Rial, “El ‘imaginario social’ uruguayo y la dictadura.” 29. Anderson Branchero cited by Mabel Moraña, Literatura y cultura nacional en Hispanoamérica, 135. 30. Rial, “El ‘imaginario social’ uruguayo y la dictadura.” 31. See Antonio Plácido, Carnaval: Evocación de Montevideo en la historia y la tradición, and Milita Alfaro, Carnaval: Una historia social de Montevideo desde la perspectiva de la fiesta. 32. For example, the 1917 murga Los políticos de la época. 33. Carlos Martins, Música popular uruguaya 1973–1982: Un fenómeno de comunicación alternativa, Colección Argumentos (Montevideo: CLAEH/EBO, 1986), 43. 34. Iglesias, Informe, 7. 35. Jorge Esmóris, interview with the author. 36. Ibid., 6. 37. Mabel Moraña, Memorias de la generación fantasma: Crítica literaria 1973 –1988 (Montevideo: Monte Sexto, 1988), 120. 38. Iglesias, Informe, 1. 39. Ibid., 11. 40. Ibid., 7. 41. Moraña, Memorias, 115 and 133. 42. Ibid., 133.

278 / Notes to Chapter 2 43. Mirza, “El teatro uruguayo contemporáneo,” Latin American Theater Review (Spring 1992): 182. 44. Ibid. 45. Alvaro Barros Lémez, “Uruguay: Redemocratization, Culture, Return from Exile (Is it Possible to Go Home Again?)” in Repression, Exile, and Democracy: Uruguayan Culture, ed. Saúl Sosnowski and Louise B. Popkin (Durham, N.C.: Duke University Press, 1993). 46. Mirza, “El teatro uruguayo contemporáneo.” 47. Aquiles Fabregat and Antonio Dabezies, Canto popular uruguayo (Montevideo: El juglar, 1983), 14. 48. Martins, Música popular uruguaya 1973–1982, 26–27. 49. Ibid., 26. 50. Fabregat and Dabezies, Canto popular uruguayo, 9. 51. Ibid., 10. 52. Ibid. 53. Iglesias, Informe, 7. 54. Jorge Esmorís, interview with the author. 55. Iglesias, Informe, 8. 56. Leo Maslíah, “Popular Music: Censorship and Repression,” in Sosnowski and Popkin, eds., Repression, Exile, and Democracy, 112. 57. Ibid. 58. Iglesias, Informe, 8. 59. Ibid. 60. Ibid. 61. Ibid., 9. 62. Maslíah, “Popular Music: Censorship and Repression,” 114. 63. Ibid. 64. Ibid., 115. 65. Ibid. 66. Ibid., 111. 67. Moraña, Memorias, 123. 68. Maslíah, “Popular Music: Censorship and Repression,” 112. 69. Ibid. 70. Ibid. 71. Hugo Brocos, A Marcha Camión: Historia y anécdotas de Falta y resto (Montevideo: Editorial Fin de Siglo, 1991). 72. Ibid., 123. 73. Ibid. 74. Maslíah, “Popular Music: Censorship and Repression,” 112. 75. Iglesias, Informe, 9–10. 76. Mauricio Ubal, “Carnaval: Arte y zafra,” Brecha, January 30, 1987. 77. “Las autorizaciones para tales festividades, serán concedidas sobre la base de que las mismas deberán propender exclusivamente al sano esparcimiento, al mayor atractivo turístico, a la recreación y a la difusión de la cultura popular.

Notes to Chapter 2 / 279 La libertad de expresión y de creación artística como derechos inherentes a la persona humana, serán amparados intrínsecamente teniendo como límite natural el que las normas jurídicas aplicables establecen para aquellos derechos. Deberán reflejar la máxima expresión de identidad de nuestra cultura, sobre la base de una crítica sana y constructiva de hechos y situaciones que componen el quehacer cotidiano. “Todo aspecto de las mismas que afecte estos objectivos o signifique un apartamiento de estos principios generales o constituyan agravios contra valores reconocidos por el ordenamiento jurídico, atenta contra el orden, la moralidad y las buenas costumbres, [y] se considerará motivo suficiente para no adjudicar o cancelar la autorización respective, sin perjuicio de las sanciones que por derecho correspondan.” From Regulation of Carnival 1. 78. Regulation 9. 79. Regulation 21. 80. Regulation 22. 81. Regulation 23. 82. Regulations 12–13. 83. “La Categoría Murgas, es conceptualmente un natural medio de comunicación, transmite la canción del barrio, recoge la poesía de la calle, canta los pensamientos del asfalto. Es una forma expresiva que trasunta el lenguaje popular con una veta de rebeldía y romanticismo. “La Murga, esencia del sentir ciudadano, conforma una verdadera autocaricatura de la sociedad por donde desfilan identificados y reconocidos los acontecimientos salientes del año, lo que la gente ve, oye y dice, tomados en chanza y en su aspecto insólito, jocoso y sin concepciones [sic], y si la situación lo requiriera, mostrará la dureza conceptual de su crítica que es su verdadera esencia. El contexto del libretto así como la crítica social, tendrá un nítido sentido de ingenio, picardía y autenticidad. “La veta de protesta punzante, irónica, aguda, mordas, inteligente y comunicativa es la estructura y la esencia de la murga. “El panfleto o la demagogia como elementos integrantes de la misma, le retacean creatividad y la despoja de la naturally espontánea autenticidad popular. “La mística de la murga se mantiene en la medida de una natural autenticidad del libreto, que transmite y logra crear una corriente fluida de comunicación con su auditorio, integrándolo y haciéndolo participar espiritualmente de sus canciones y hechos. “Distingue a la murga, contrariamente al refinamiento artístico que es sustancia de las otras categories (sociedades de negros lubolos, revistas, parodistas y humoristas) la mímica, la pantomima, la vivacidad, el movimiento, el contrase, la informalidad escénica y lo grotesco; como también la sincronización de movimientos se conceptuará como válida, si esta diera brillantez al espectáculo perseguido y no atentara contra la idiosincrasia de la murga. “La sátira como diferentes situaciones creadas en la murga pasan a través de todas las categories, ya que ésta en su creatividad permanente, parodia situaciones

280 / Notes to Chapter 2 o personajes, realiza humoradas a través de su libre inventiva. Sus textos estarán apoyados por músicas popularmente conocidas o inéditas, teniendo así la posibilidad que tienen las otras categories de realizar su propia música si así lo quisieran. “La inercia, la inacción y en definitiva el quietismo, serán factores de empobrecimiento general del espectáculo. “La pintura o maquillaje del rostro es fundamental para contribuir al complemento del vestuario, la que a su vez con su originalidad mantendrá viva su verdadera identidad. “La murga deberá presentar originalidad y colorido, destacándose por la representación de personajes llamativos, sus dichos, modismos y situaciones. En suma; auténtica chispa popular a través de las cosas vividas. “Los instrumentos básicos y esenciales serán el bombo, platillo y redoblante. También podrán utilizarse otro tipo de instrumentos musicales, aunque éstos solamente como apoyo a los instrumentos antedichos; los que en ningún caso excederán de cinco minutos en su utilización en el total de su actuación. “La murga podrá entrar de pleno en escena siendo muy importante el papel del director escénico que encabezará la inmovilidad contribuyendo al contagio de sus compañeros. “La canción de retirada trasmitirá el tradicional mensaje evocativo, romántico, comunicativo y/o ejemplarizante, o ésta se podrá referir, en sentidos homenajes a hombres y hechos que hayan sido de trascendencia histórica o popular, cuya relevancia podrá estar situada en los diferentes ámbitos de la historia, que ha hecho perdurar a esta expresión carnavalesca indefinidamente en el tiempo. “La escenografía sera optativa, estableciéndose que la misma, no calificará en los puntajes del Concurso Oficial. “Estos conjuntos estarán compuestos de un mínimo de 14 y un máximo de 17 integrantes, y sus actuaciones en los espectáculos del Concurso Oficial tendrán una duración minima de 35 minutos y un máximo de 50 minutos.” Regulations 28–30. 84. Regulations 6–7. 85. “La gente quería verse, oírse, reírse en sus murgas.” Martins, Música popular uruguaya 1973–1982, 44. 86. Moraña, Memorias, 122. 87. Iglesias, Informe, 10. 88. Ibid. 89. Iglesias, Informe, 12. 90. Ibid., and registered rosters of the government of Montevideo. 91. Julio Martínez and Guillermo Reimann, “Historia del Carnaval” (1988), supplement to the weekly Mate Amargo 49. 92. Ibid., 10. 93. Iglesias, Informe, 12. 94. Diverso, s, 9.

Notes to Chapter 2 / 281 95. Data from the Centro Latinoamericano de Economía Humana (CLAEH), 88. 96. Ibid., 57. 97. Ibid., 90. 98. Ibid., 95. 99. Ibid., 96–97. 100. Ibid. 101. “el dueño paga por tablado [por actuación] un precio preestablecido y durante los meses de ensayo paga el ómnibus. Cada cual arregla por su lado y se cotiza diferente, según su experiencia y condiciones. Algunos cobran adelantos o primas — que pueden ser en especie — o cobran fijo por la temporada — caso de vedettes, primeras voces, actores célebres o cupleteros. El deambular de un conjunto a otro, año a año, y a veces dentro de la misma temporada, es la característica tradicional del carnavalero, que pese a su origen, nunca pudo llegar a darse un sindicato que pelee y aúne sus intereses.” Mauricio Ubal, “Carnaval: Arte y zafra,” Brecha, January 30, 1987. 102. “Entender que el carnaval es quizás la única manifestación artística en donde realmente la clase trabajadora, el pueblo participa como protagonista sin sentirse sapo de otro poso, es entender el profundo significado social y cultural del carnaval. Pero hay otra razón, no por terrenal menos fascinante. Momo constituye, paralelamente a su dimensión cultural, una fuente de trabajo. Lo fue siempre; sólo que hoy, con una economía arruinada y sin perspectivas, hace rato que muchos uruguayos ansían que la zafra arranque de una buena vez (cada año empieza antes), que se extienda el máximo posible, y que además no llueva. Y no me refiero únicamente a las expectativas naturales de los aproximadamente mil quinientos artistas que saldrán a carnavalear en febrero; el transporte en general, el periodismo todo, el comercio en sus diversos rubros, los escenarios, la industria del turismo, todos estamos pendientes de Momo. Si bien la frase ‘nadie vive de esto’ es típica dentro del carnaval — y es sólo verdad a medias — revela sí la otra certeza: en este país, todo el que produce arte es ‘un zafrarero,’ un vendedor ambulante que hoy come y mañana no sabe. Agravado por la crisis y el desempleo, el carnaval, inserto en esta sociedad capitalista, reprodujo siempre en su interior las contradicciones sociales, políticas y económicas del sistema.” Ibid. 103. “Poco a poco, se ha ido perdiendo aquel jugarse por la camiseta que caracterizaba al barullo de otros años. El mercantilismo se ha metido lentamente en el bolsillo del puro amor propio que caracterizaba a las murgas y a las comparsas, y una mentalidad de empresa que cotiza en dólares es el debe y el haber de cada conjunto, se fue masticando la sensibilidad y el entusiasmo. Y como todo aquello en que los intereses entran a tallar, han surgido también los acomodos, los arreglos, los entretelones, la avaricia y el juego sucio. Hay quienes dicen que se ha instituido una verdadera mafia alrededor de algunos caudillos carnavaleros, que echan los mangos por delante, y entre sus manos y sus bolsillos empiezan a suicidar apellidos, honestidades, rectitudes y vergüenzas.” Martínez, Todo Momo, 2.

282 / Notes to Chapter 3 104. “1988, en su sede propia, Don Timoteo repite nuevamente el cuplé ante una multitud que se ha congregado para ver los ensayos. Visten équipos deportivos con el logotipo de la murga y una marca de cigarrillos — al estilo de nuestros principales cuadros de fútbol — estampada en el pecho. Varios son murguistas ya conocidos en carnavales anteriores y han llegado a la murga luego de un agitado período de pases donde los propietarios de algunos conjuntos se han repartido las figuras consagradas. Una buena colocación en el concurso desquitará las pérdidas.” Gustavo Diverso, “Las murgas uruguayas: Desde Cádiz a Montevideo,” El Popular, January 29, 1988. 105. Herrera, “Con Banana González: En Carnaval soy un obrero especializado,” La Hora (January 25, 1988). 106. Ibid. 107. Barrán, Historia de la sensibilidad en el Uruguay. 108. Brocos, A marcha camión. 109. “La hora de los elegidos,” La Hora (March 7, 1988), Carnival Supplement, 2; Julio C. Martínez, Todo Momo: Anuario del Carnaval Uruguayo 1988 (Montevideo: Edición Equipos, 1988). 110. For example, Las ranas by Mauricio Rosencof, El centroforward murió al amanecer by Agustín Cuzzani, Los invasores by Egon Wolff, the theater of Juan Radrigán, etc. 111. The word in Spanish for planks is tablón, which is the origin of the term tablado, the impermanent stage on which the murgas perform. 112. For a discussion of the topic of tradition, its appropriation, and reelaboration, see Gerardo Caetano and José Rilla, “Izquierda y tradición en el Uruguay,” Supplement La lupa of Brecha (Montevideo, July 1988), and “Izquierda y tradición: Un problema y su versión en el Uruguay” (Montevideo, 1991). Also, Julio Rodríguez’s note “El hombre, ¡qué animal más juguetón!” Brecha, March 30, 1990.

3. Theology of Carnival 1. Pierre Louis Duchartre, The Italian Comedy (New York: Dover, 1966), 124; Giacomo Oreglia, The Commedia dell’arte (London: Methuen & Co., 1968), 56; Margot Berthold, Historia social del teatro (Madrid: Guadarrama, 1974), 104. 2. Julio Rodríguez, “El hombre, ¡Qué animal más juguetón!” Brecha, March 30, 1990. 3. “Misa murguera en oración a Momo,” murga Araca la Cana, 1987. 4. The pauses in this process, the moments of greatest enthusiasm, were consequences of political processes such as the referendum and the plebiscite against amnesty of the dictatorship’s crimes, the 1989 elections and the triumph of the Frente Amplio of Montevideo, and the recent plebiscite against the privatization of state businesses and services. 5. Carlos Real de Azúa, “La élite religiosa,” in La clase dirigente, Colección Nuestra Tierra 34 (Montevideo: Nuestra Tierra, 1969).

Notes to Chapter 3 / 283 6. The Monument to the Flag constructed by the dictatorship, the Obelisk to Constituents of 1830 erected by the great bench, the equestrian monument of General Fructuoso Rivera, the monument to Rome, the commemorative circular rock to Alsina, and the gigantic antenna of Monte Carlo Television’s Channel 4. 7. The term “civil religion” is used by Rousseau in The Social Contract and by Durkheim in his exploration of the precontract society in The Elemental Forms of Religious Life. See Dictionary of Sociology (New York: Penguin, 1984). 8. Juan Rial, “El imaginario social uruguayo y la dictadura: Los mitos políticos de reconstrucción,” in De mitos y memorias políticas: La represión, el miedo y después (Montevideo: Ediciones de la Banda Oriental, 1986). 9. Antonio Plácido, Carnaval: Evocación de Montevideo en la historia y la tradición (Montevideo: Letras, 1966); Milita Alfaro, Carnaval: Una historia social de Montevideo desde la perspectiva de la fiesta: El carnaval “heróico” (1800 –1872) (Montevideo: Trilce, 1991). 10. José Pedro Barrán, Historia de la sensibilidad en el Uruguay, vol. 1: La cultura “bárbara” (1800–1860), and vol. 2: El disciplinamiento (1860– 1920) (Montevideo: Ediciones de la Banda Oriental/Facultad de Humanidades y Ciencias, 1990). 11. Alfaro, Carnaval. 12. Plácido, Carnaval. 13. Paulo de Carvalho Neto, El carnaval de Montevideo: Folklore, historia y sociología, Publicaciones del Seminario de Antropología Americana 9 (Seville: Facultad de Filosofía y Letras, University of Seville, 1967). 14. Alfaro, Carnaval. 15. Plácido, Carnaval. 16. Reglamento Municipal del Carnaval, Montevideo Municipal Government — Department of Hotels, Casinos, and Tourism — Tourism Division — Service of Celebrations and Public Spectacles (January 1988). 17. Rial, “El imaginario social uruguayo y la dictadura.” 18. Antonio Iglesias in Informe al I Congreso del Carnaval Uruguayo (Montevideo: DAECPU/Intendencia Municipal de Montevideo, 1990). 19. Leo Masliah, “Popular Music: Censorship and Repression,” in Repression, Exile, and Democracy: Uruguayan Culture, ed. Saúl Sosnowski and Louise B. Popkin (Durham, N.C.: Duke University Press, 1993). 20. “Levántate,” Araca la Cana, 1987. 21. Oscar Brockett, History of the Theatre (Boston: Allyn and Bacon, 1987). 22. Diccionario de la Real Academia Española (Madrid, 1732). 23. “somos unos chiquilines fabulosos y gentiles . . . ” from “We are who we are . . . ” “Nosotros somos quien somos . . . ,” Anti-murga BCG, 1988. 24. Carina Perelli, “De la integración negativa a la herejía: Identidades colectivas, actores y retóricas en torno a la enseñanza media en el Uruguay,” in Perelli and Rial, De mitos y memorias políticas. 25. Jaime Roos song.

284 / Notes to Chapter 3 26. This Project was created to implement the dictatorial civil-military complex within a Council of National Security that was superior to democratic civil-political structures. 27. Luis Trochón song, performed by the group Los que iban cantando. 28. Miguel López song, performed by the group Rumbo. 29. Mauricio Ubal and Rubén Olivera song, performed by the group Rumbo. 30. “Retirada” of La milonga nacional, 1978. Citations from texts prior to 1985 have been taken from Juan Capagorry and Nelson Domínguez, La murga: Antología y notas (Montevideo: Prisma, 1984). The citations from the murgas’ texts from 1987 and beyond are taken from the original librettos collected personally at the Carnival tablados. 31. “Retirada” from Falta y resto, 1982. 32. “Presentation” from Falta y resto, 1982. 33. “atada con alambre y un poquito de cinta scotch,” from a song by Ignacio Copani. 34. Mauricio Rosencof, El regreso del Gran Tulque y su amor por la Margarita. 35. “Couplet” from the murga Lá . . . from Falta y resto, 1984. 36. All murga representations exhibit a set of common characteristics. To delineate these paradigms is an attempt to take the discussion to a second plane through an analysis of the different underlying narratives that support the general murguista narrative. The object of this deeper reading is to develop criteria that distinguish representations beyond the common separations established among the murgas-murgas (“the murgas from the neighborhood Unión, which represent the true spirit of murga”), the murgas-pueblo (“the workers’ murgas,” “the murgas from the neighborhood La Teja,” “those that without negating the murguista tradition are loyal to the example of civic duty and participation, tied to the will of the people, contrary to the easy laugh, the comfortable position, vulgar humor”), or the anti-murga (“for whom the murga must change,” “for whom the genre of murga itself is converted into an object of parody”). See the libretto published by the murga Diablos verdes in 1988 and in Capagorry and Domínguez, La murga: Antología y notas. 37. The murgas of the 1950s and the murgas-murgas are the principal source for the first paradigm, the Anti-murga BCG for the second, and the murgaspueblo for the third. This does not signify that the distinct types of murgas coincide with the proposed paradigms. Usually the distinct types of murgas present combinations of the three paradigms. This presents a series of rather problematic contradictions. 38. Patos cabreros, 1927; Asaltantes con patente, 1932. 39. “Farewell,” from Amantes al engrudo, 1949. 40. “Retirada” from Asaltantes con patente, 1932. 41. Falta y resto, 1991. 42. [The murga should do its] characterization with humor and grace. Diego Muñoz (1909) in Capagorry and Domínguez, La murga: Antología y notas.

Notes to Chapter 3 / 285 43. Diego Muñoz (1909) in Capagorry and Domínguez, La murga: Antología y notas. 44. “Farewell” from Patos cabreros, 1953. 45. “Retirada” from Patos cabreros, 1961. 46. Ibid. 47. “Farewell” from Amantes al engrudo, 1949; “Retirada” from Araca la Cana, 1954; “Retirada” from La nueva milonga, 1954. 48. “Retirada” from Asaltantes con patente, 1932; “Farewell” from Amantes al engrudo, 1949; La milonga nacional, 1952. 49. “Retirada” from Patos cabreros, 1961. 50. “Retirada” from Asaltantes con patente, 1932. 51. “Couplet El Patrullero Vidal,” Los saltimbanquis, 1988. 52. Ibid. 53. “Couplet El último tren” from Don Timoteo, 1988. 54. “Retirada” from Los Pierrots, 1988; “Farewell” from Don Timoteo, 1988. 55. Mauricio Ubal, “Carnaval y mafia,” Brecha, March 23, 1990. 56. “Momo’s Couplet,” Anti-murga BCG, 1988. 57. Ibid. 58. Introduction to the libretto of the Anti-murga BCG, 1988. 59. “Momo’s Couplet,” Anti-murga BCG, 1988. 60. Ibid. 61. Ibid. 62. “Greeting” from Anti-murga BCG, 1988. 63. “Retirada al puchero de ayer,” Anti-murga BCG, 1988. 64. “Momo’s Couplet,” Anti-murga BCG, 1988. 65. “Retirada” from Asaltantes con patente, 1961. 66. “Retirada” from Milonga nacional, 1968. 67. Ibid. 68. “Momo’s Couplet,” Anti-murga BCG, 1988. 69. Ibid. 70. Ibid. 71. Ibid. 72. Ibid. 73. The notion of epic-Carnivalesque is intended to capture the epic character that predominates the space of Carnival, particularly in the murgas, at certain times. 74. “Potpourri of Nafalda,” Araca la Cana, 1988. 75. “Murguera Mass in Honor of Momo,” Araca la Cana, 1987. 76. “Greeting” of La soberana, 1973. 77. “Who Stole Our Laughter?” Araca la Cana, 1988. 78. “Farewell” from Don Timoteo, 1988. 79. Mauricio Ubal and Rubén Olivera song, performed by the group Rumbo. 80. Ibid.

286 / Notes to Chapter 4 81. 82. 83. 84. 85. 86. 87. 88. 89. 90. 91. 92. 93. 94. 95. 96. 97. 98. 99. 100. 101. 102. 103. 104. 105. 106. 107.

“Only Tonight I Ask You,” Araca la Cana, 1987. “Who Stole Our Laughter?” Araca la Cana, 1988. “Farewell” from Don Timoteo, 1988. “The People’s Couplet,” Falta y resto, 1988. “Murguera Mass in Honor of Momo,” Araca la Cana, 1987. Falta y resto, 1991. “Greeting” from the Reina de la Teja, 1988. “Greeting” from the Reina de la Teja, 1987. “Greeting” from the Reina de la Teja, 1988. “Murguera Mass in Honor of Momo,” Araca la Cana, 1987. Nueva milonga, 1984. “Potpourri of Nafalda,” Araca la Cana, 1988. “Retirada” of Falta y resto, 1982. “Presentation” of Falta y resto, 1988. “It’s February,” Anti-murga BCG, 1988. “Rise,” Araca la Cana, 1984. Araca la Cana. “La justa bate la justa,” La Justa, 1984. Reina de la Teja, 1981. “Greeting” from Falta y resto, 1988. “Retirada” from Falta y resto, 1988. “Momo’s Couplet,” Anti-murga BCG, 1988. “Retirada” from Falta y resto, 1988. “Greeting” from Araca la Cana, 1984. “Retirada” from Reina de la Teja, 1988 “Retirada” from Reina de la Teja, 1987. “Retirada” from Falta y resto, 1984 and 1987.

4. Bodies, Costumes, and Characters 1. Hernán Vidal, Frente Patriótico Manuel Rodríguez: El tabú del conflicto armado en Chile (Santiago, Chile: Mosquito Editores, 1995). 2. Allan Sloan, “The Hit Men,” Newsweek, Febrary 26, 1996, 44–48. 3. “Greeting,” Araca la Cana, 1987. 4. “Rise up,” Araca la Cana, 1984. 5. Angel Rama, La generación crítica (1939 –1969) (Montevideo: Arca, 1972). 6. “Greeting,” La reina de la Teja, 1988. 7. Ibid. 8. Basáñez is a soccer club. 9. The Pereira Hospital is designated for indigent mothers. The Millán Hospital is a mental institution. 10. Falta y resto is the name of a card game and a murga. It may also be translated as “Highest Bet.” Trans. 11. “Greeting,” Reina de la Teja, 1987.

Notes to Chapter 5 / 287 12. “The People’s Couplet,” Falta y resto, 1988. 13. “The Last Train,” Don Timoteo, 1988. 14. Antonio Gramsci, Selections from the Prison Notebooks of Antonio Gramsci, ed. and trans. Quintin Hoare and Geoffrey Nowell Smith (New York: International Publishers, 1971), 325. 15. Ibid., 326. Note within the original text: “ ‘Know thyself’ was the inscription written above the gate of the Oracle at Delphi and became a principle of Socratic philosophy.” Trans. 16. Ibid. 17. Anthony Giddens, The Consequences of Modernity (Stanford, Calif.: Stanford University Press, 1990), and Ernesto Laclau, Politics and Ideology in Marxist Theory (London: Verso, 1977). 18. Alfaro, Carnaval. 19. “Retirada,” Don Timoteo, 1988. 20. “The Last Train,” Don Timoteo, 1988. 21. “Officer Vidal’s Couplet,” Saltimbanquis, 1988. 22. Libretto of Diablos verdes, 1988. 23. “A Potpourri of Critiques,” Saltimbanquis, 1988. 24. “The People’s Couplet,” Falta y resto, 1988.

5. Carnival Celebrates the National Popular Epic 1. Gerardo Caetano and José Rilla, “El sistema de partidos: Raíces y permanencias,” De la tradición a la crisis, Colección Argumentos 3 (Montevideo: CLAEH/EBO, 1985). 2. María del Rosario Beisso and José Luis Castagnola, “Identidades sociales y cultura política en Uruguay,” Revista de CLAEH 44 (1987). 3. José Joaquín Brunner, La cultura autoritaria en Chile (Santiago: FLACSO/ Latin American Studies Program at the University of Minnesota, 1981). 4. Guillermo O’Donnell, “Las fuerzas armadas y el estado autoritario del Cono Sur de América Latina,” in Estado y política en América Latina, ed. Norbert Lechner (Mexico City: Siglo XXI, 1986). 5. Rafael Varela, “Autoritarismo y dominación de clase,” in The Discourse of Power: Culture, Hegemony and the Authoritarian State in Latin America, ed. Neil Larsen (Minneapolis: Institute for the Study of Ideologies and Literature, 1983). 6. Hernán Vidal, Poética de la población marginal: Fundamentos materialistas para una historiografía estética, Literature and Human Rights 1 (Minneapolis: Prisma, 1987). 7. “Greeting,” Araca la Cana, 1984. 8. “Introduction,” Reina de la Teja, 1984. 9. “To My People’s General,” Araca la Cana, 1987. 10. “Retirada,” Reina de la Teja, 1988. 11. “Introduction,” Reina de la Teja, 1981. 12. “Who Stole Our Laughter?” Araca la Cana, 1987.

288 / Notes to Falta y resto 13. “Murguera Mass in Honor of Momo,” Araca la Cana, 1987. 14. “Momo,” Anti-murga BCG, 1988. 15. “Greeting,” Araca la Cana, 1984. 16. “Retirada,” Falta y resto, 1984. 17. The cielito (Spanish for “darling,” “little sky,” or “my little heaven”) is a poetic form of the early nineteenth century associated with the Uruguayan Bartolomé Hidalgo (1788–1822), founder of the tradition of gauchesco literature. Formally it consists of an octosyllabic quatrain written in colloquial language and rhyming in the second and fourth lines. The form takes its name from the frequent use made by the poetic voice of a gaucho (all by himself in the immensity of the grasslands) of the Spanish word cielito in refrains. Thematically, the cielitos are “songs of freedom,” written, recited, and sung at meetings and military camps during the struggles for independence from the Spanish and Portuguese. They narrate many epic episodes, celebrate the ethics and attitudes of the gaucho, and also make commentaries and jokes against foreign rulers and invaders. 18. “Retirada: Inheritor of Hidalgo’s Heaven,” Falta y resto, 1988. 19. “Momo,” Anti-murga BCG, 1988. 20. “Farewell,” Reina de la Teja, 1987. 21. “To Our Montevideo,” Reina de la Teja, 1981. 22. “Murguera Mass in Honor of Momo,” Araca la Cana, 1987. 23. “Farewell,” Reina de la Teja, 1987. 24. Ibid.

Notes to Araca la Cana 1. Ferreira Aldunate. 2. Gregorin Álvarez, one of the last “heads” of the dictatorship. 3. The Spanish word reputación contains the term puta, which means prostitute. The line plays on the word within a word, and the repetition of “My, what a filthy mouth” also plays on double entendres. 4. The Spanish term parto can mean “I go/depart” and also “birth/labor.” Pancho’s response may include a reference to the second meaning. 5. Julio María Sanguinetti, the president. 6. A character in and the title of the classified section of the newspaper, referring to items for sale. 7. The term for leech, sanguijuela, is close in spelling to the president’s name, Sanguinetti. 8. These two stanzas refer to a popular song about the Farolera, a girl who fell in love with a colonel when passing the barracks on her route to light the streetlamps during the colonial period. 9. The Spanish term for dispute, disputa, contains the word puta, which means prostitute.

Notes to Falta y resto 1. One of the disappeared children, Simón and Mariana Zaffaroni, who recently “reappeared.”

Notes to La reina de la Teja / 289 2. Peñarol is a soccer team. 3. This refers to the card game wherein the ace of gold is called the “dirty asshole.” 4. The name of a soccer team.

Notes to La reina de la Teja 1. A principal avenue in Montevideo. 2. The “B” soccer league. 3. The “A” soccer league.

Notes to Los diablos verdes 1. The color of the National Soccer Team. 2. Progreso and Nacional are names of soccer teams, and Carrasco was a player. 3. Peñarol is another soccer team.

Notes to Los saltimbanquis 1. The word colorado refers to the color as well as to the Uruguayan political party, the Colorados. 2. Saltimbanquis is the Spanish term for jugglers and acrobats.

Notes to Don Timoteo 1. There is a word play in this verse: Saca means take away or remove, Poné means put it in, and Zulú means brute. 2. The Spanish here is Pelé el poroto, which is a word play containing both the Spanish phrase “I peeled his penis” and a reference to Pelé, the Brazilian soccer player. 3. The phrase “Miami Mississippi” sounds similar to the Spanish phrase mí, a mí me hice pipí, which means “I peed on myself.”

Notes to Anti-murga BCG 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7.

independencia is the Spanish term for independence. rojo is the Spanish term for red. negro is the Spanish term for black. extensión territorial literally means territorial extension. trabajador is the Spanish term for worker. A sindicato is a union. democracia is the Spanish term for democracy.

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Gustavo Remedi is associate professor of modern languages and literature and is affiliated with the Latin American and Caribbean studies program at Trinity College in Hartford, Connecticut. He teaches Latin American history and culture through literature, theater, film, and other forms of social production. He has published La modernidad desbordada, the Spanish translation of Arjun Appadurai’s Modernity at Large. Amy Ferlazzo translates scholarly works from Spanish to English and teaches Spanish to children and adults in Durham, North Carolina.