The traveler, still thirsty, tries to rehydrate with the providential
rain water. Little did he know that rain would be very
difficult to tame in this imaginary Mexico. Two-dimensional
images created from water droplets and blank spaces start
falling from the sky before a parade of percussionists and
singers, reminiscent of the Day of the Dead celebrations,
take over the stage.
When our resident clown finally outwits the water and manages to fill
up his canteen, he is met by a beautiful, mysterious woman in a white
dress adorned in budding florae. She’s Majo Cornejo, our singer
extraordinaire, and she’s serenading us with a rousing melody. (Tu
llegaras hasta donde nadie se atreverá y mas alla te acercaras a lo
que ya tu dejaste atrás, corres mas recio, mas necio, sin lios hasta
llegar. No se explicar por donde volveremos cargando secretos de
lluvia y luz.) As the rain begins to fall now in earnest, whimsical
patterns begin to emerge and then converge into more recognizable
symbols of the land; the flowers on her dress magically burst into
bloom, turning her dress from white to red.
The images and patterns that appear in the rainfall here
are generated electronically by a graphical water display screen,
interacting with the artists to support the story and mood of the
show. There are Otomi patterns, rain drops, flowers as well as various
animal figures that are nods to the strange, warm and whimsical
creatures of Mexican painter Francisco Toledo.
Now, as Majo reaches a crescendo she is joined by the Running Girl,
the galloping horse, and the rest of the cast as a red circular
lantern-like structure descends upon the stage, powerfully bringing an
end to the first half of the show. (Ya lo descubriste si el cielo
llora, no sirve ponerse más triste, nunca nunca Jamáaaaas.