BEANSCENE : BULLFIGHTING

My first Bull Fight. What a spectacle, I am so glad I went. I have read the books, Matador and also Hemmingway’s Death In the Afternoon both which provide comprehensive insight into the bullfight culture. The bull ring, with its bright yellow sand, the darkness of the bull and the colours of the matadors bring a contrast which adds up to such theatricality, the like of which I have not before witnessed. It was well attended. Any rumours questioning the popularity of the bullfight’s existence can be quashed.

Around the perimeter of the ring are six specific points of wooden protection points – the safety boxes if you like – where the matadors and picadors run to in order to save their little bottoms getting a fierce horn sent up them.

There was a band of brass instruments, which acknowledges the opening of the corridas (bullfight) and heralds the start of each –there were four on this occasion -and applauds the Pasa Doble - when the matador executes a double twist of the cape around the bull in a balletic figure of eight manoeuvre. Music added very much to the spectacle.

The crowd becomes anticipatory, all gates but two on the ring are closed, eagerly awaiting the entrance of the troupe and another for the bull. Through one appeared two mounted horsemen, sombreros and baroque style black, white and leather clothing displaying the Spanish riding style upon white horses. The horses side-stepped over in rhythm to the brass accompaniment, to underneath the Presidente’s box, president meaning presiding figure rather than President. The horseman raised their hats to el Presidente, who then flings over the front shelf of his box a green silk flag, to order the proceedings underway. The entire troupe then appear, fronted by the Cuadrillas, with their mickey mouse hats on sideways, with tight black short jackets and even tighter breeches. Little flat shoes that look for all the world like carpet slippers with monograms and knee high socks of cyclamen pink.

They drag their capes that they wave in front of the bull – yellow one side, sock-pink the other about on the sand, as if trying them out for the drag effect that they might make on the sand and contemplating what is ahead. Behind them, are the four novice matadors who will show different grades of experience as the evening progresses. These are dressed in the “Suit of Lights” some fantastic tight knee breeches, and the typical short bolero type jacket, the complete outfit with an intricate design of sequins and tiny mirrors sewn in to the matching bolero and trousers, on a plain coloured background. One in a suit of purple with black sequins, which looked like lace and sparkled in the bright sun, the next in turquoise with gold sequins; the next a red suit, with green and gold sequins, and the last white with gold sequins. All had pristine white grandfather-collared shirts and a thin, black tie. They carry a smaller semi-circular cape of red, which has a stick along its upper horizontal in order to handle more accurately whereas the Picadors grab the top of their capes grittily with both hands. Little defence against a raging bull.

Following the Matadors are the 4 surface cleaners, dressed in white smock shirts and white baggy trousers with a wide red sash around their lower waists. They carry rakes to resettle the sand after each corrida. All the troupe except the cleaning brigade wear the vomit pink socks. As they parade in organised rows towards el Presidente, they raise their hats, are acknowledged and then proceed around the ring waving to the crowd which cheers and applauds even though nothing yet has happened.

This is the chance to show off their elegance, arrogance and sheer self-control, because very soon they are alone with something like a half-ton of raging bull in the arena and all the applause in Christendom ain’t going to help one iota. Their elegant little figures retreat to the gate from whence they came to await the roaring bull. One Matador, four picadors. They all cross themselves before re-entering the ring, and then…the bull emerges, fast.

This is a seriously dramatic moment.

Crowds nearest to the bull gate bang on the nearest hard surface to provoke the bull to charge into the ring. The crowd appears to like a very feisty bull, and it is applauded for its boisterousness. It is quite spectacular to see the bull, which has been reared solely for this purpose to come into the ring. The ferocity with which it circles the ring is borne of curiosity and resentment of its enforced confinement. The Picadors flutter their capes and perform speedy escape routes from the charging horns and then, returning to the ring strike at the bull’s shoulders with brightly coloured pics, which they pierce just into the hide of the animal. Acting as an annoyance to the beast this brings down the level of the head to a lower position which is thus better positioned to receive its ultimate blow. Once the Picadors have done, probably all of about four minutes of display, the Matador comes on, striding arrogantly towards this hulking angry animal, yet still cutting a tiny defenceless figure. He interacts with the bull, who circles the Matador in answer to the red cape swirls, and the true bravado is when the Matador has achieved several pasa dobles or faenas, (an effective succession of turns) that he turns his back on the bull and walks away, holding the cape in an unprovocative style. This gets utter enthusiasm from the crowd who applaud immediately. As each turn between suit of lights, red cape, black bull and back again, the crowd roar “Ole!” This is an approval gesture that the Matador is successfully on terra firma. The kill comes quicker and is effected more rapidly than I had expected. The bull is panting, tired and angry. The sword goes in cleanly and hits the cortex of spinal cord so death is instant. This great heaving mass of beef folds its legs and is very quickly gone, a big black mass lying on the sand.

The defeated bull is then removed. In true rural Talarubbias style, this was utterly unceremonious. A one person fork lift drove on to the sand and with an efficient heave ho of its ugly mechanical lifting head was able to remove the beast efficiently if not totally uncaringly. The butcher wagon is parked outside the bull ring, as is an Ambulance.

The excitement of the crowd is also spectacular. The President notes the approval level of the crowd. This is the waving of white handkerchieves. If the crowd believes either the Matador/Bull has done badly they don’t wave their whites. If a good performance then the waving increases. If the crowd believes the Matador has put on an exceptional performance, they then wave profusely and obviously, so that the President is in effect led by them and he too waves a white handkerchief. The prize? The ears of the bull – one ear for medium to good, two ears for good to better and then the ultimate prize, the tail, once more unceremoniously removed. The Matador is presented with his prize to enthusiastic applause.

The brass instruments strike up a triumphant cacophony and the Rakers come out to do their housework on the sand. As this is happening the Matador, if successful, proudly struts around the ring to more applause and is thrown red roses. Once he’s done his circuit, it’s time for the next corrida.

The colour and spectacle left a huge impression on me. I did not come away with a feeling of cruelty, if the Brit sports of fox hunting or deer stalking were to be compared, then I think that they would have the cruelty edge. Because the kill is so quick, the spectacle is not as cruel as some might imagine.

The third Matador of the evening won both ears and the tail for his performance. He was almost acrobatic in his movements, tightly turning to escape the bull’s horns and swishing his cape deftly to and fro. All the time he appeared to maintain an elegant posture, that backward curve held for just a split second overlong, to emphasise the subtlety of his actions – a bit like the golfers when they take a swing and keep the posture when gazing after the ball. To see such a great animal about 10 metres behind the matador who has confidently turned his back on a raging bull is quite breathtaking.

Si, hay circulo, peligroso y teatro. (So, there is circus and danger and theatre.)

Can’t wait to go again.