In this generously illustrated book, world-renowned Yale art historian Robert Farris Thompson gives us the definitive account of tango, " the fabulous dance of the past hundred years–and the most beautiful, in the opinion of Martha Graham.” Thompson traces tango’s evolution in the nineteenth century under European, Andalusian-Gaucho, and African influences through its representations by Hollywood and dramatizations in dance halls throughout the world. He shows us tango not only as brilliant choreography but also as text, music, art, and philosophy of life. Passionately argued and unparalleled in its research, its synthesis, and its depth of understanding, Tango: The Art History of Love is a monumental achievement. “Thompson . . . inflames us with his reverence for the form.” –Mikhail Baryshnikov “Thompson helps us understand the way artistry and ancestry combine to make an art form of the body.” – The Washington Post "Elegant. . . . Uplifting and timely. . . . Thompson rescues tango from a one-dimensional tristesse, mining in its working-class origins emotions of defiance, freedom, self-control, humor, love, and redemption." – Foreign Affairs "[Thompso treats tango as narrative art, literature and way of life. . . . By extensively tracing the lines of this 'rich suite of moves,' Thompson's work gives a dance started in the early 1900s the weight of a centuries-old form." – Newsweek Robert Farris Thompson is the author of, among other works, Black Gods and Kings , African Art in Motion , and Flash of the Spirit . He has been a Ford Foundation Fellow and has mounted major exhibitions of African art at the National Gallery in Washington, D.C. He is Col. John Trumbull Professor of the History of Art at Yale University, where he is also Master of Timothy Dwight College. He lives in New Haven, Connecticut. Chapter 1 1. TANGO IN HOLLYWOOD I hear the echo of those tangos of Arolas and Greco danced upon the sidewalk, an instant distilled that remains without before, or hereafter, an anti-oblivion, having the taste of everything lost, and everything regained. —jorge luis borges, “El tango,” in El otro, el mismo (1969) In order to recognize a symbol by its sign observe how it is used with a sense. —ludwig wittgenstein, Tractatus Logico-Philosophicus (1921) The history of tango tangles with Hollywood. Tango on film is a chronicle of its own, lurid and strange, mixing dreams and deceptions. Often a tango augments a star—Rudolph Valentino, Marlon Brando, Madonna, Al Pacino—not for its sake but for theirs. And the accord with the tango is always with stereotype: sadness, sex, violence, and doom. This sounds ridiculous and was. But thankfully, in the 1990s, with Adam Boucher’s Tango, the Obsession (1998) and Carlos Saura’s Tango, no me dejes nunca (Tango, Never Leave Me, 1998), truer versions have appeared on the screen. By then the authenticity of Claudio Segovia and Héctor Orezzoli’s stage extravaganza, Tango Argentino, had cleared the way for genuine footwork, sizzling like a Pollock on the floor. The trend toward the real article includes the conversion of a major star of film, Robert Duvall, who makes pilgrimages to Buenos Aires and frequents traditional dance halls. He takes lessons from masters like the late Lampazo, Danel and Maria Bastone of New York, and Juan Carlos Copes, the latter described by Duvall as a “Rolls-Royce without a speedometer.” A Buenos Aires television special cuts to a dance floor where Duvall sits enthralled with his girlfriend, studying the moves. Early in 2000 Duvall danced tango for President Bill Clinton and the president of Argentina in the White House—at the express request of the Argentine ambassador.On March 28, 2003, Duvall released his own tango film, Assassination Tango. It had cameo appearances by major tango dancers like María Nieves, Milena Plebs, Los Hermanos Macana, Pablo Verón, and Gerardo Portalea. We’ve come a long way from Valentino. Valentino was the first man to tango on the screens of North America. His tango in The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse (1921) is a celebrated sequence. Measured against Argentine barrio reality, his moves were a travesty, but his charm and self-confidence made people notice him. Rex Ingram, the director of Horsemen, tells us why: I was attracted at once by Valentino’s face. It was obvious that he was the exact type for the young tango-hero of the story . . . Rehearsing the tango Rudy did so well I made up my mind to expand this phase of the story. I [used] a sequence in a Universal picture I had made years ago. The sequence showed an adventurous youth going into a Bowery dive and taking the dancer, after he had floored her partner. I transposed this action to South America. The account is revealing: Ingram was not interested in tango—he just wanted to build up his star. Valentino was no stranger to tango. He had danced it at Bustanoby’s Domino Room, on 39th and Broadway in Manhattan, ar