Morante, god of bullfighting

Morante, god of bullfighting

If you were fortunate enough to see the bullfight, hold on to what you experienced, to that mysterious collective commotion that took over La Maestranza at the hands of a genius named Morante de la Puebla.

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If you didn’t see it, close your eyes and dream of an uneven, virtuous, thrilling, surprising, baroque work, a display of improvisation by an artist who is not of this world, capable of hypnotizing and with a supernatural ability uncharacteristic of today’s bullfighting.

Morante is the god of Sevillian bullfighting, of Spanish bullfighting, of the world, of the entire universe, wherever you want, because he is unique and different, and does what no one else would dare in their right mind.

But what happened? Trying to tell it is reckless, but there is no other choice.

The fourth bull came out; Morante leaned against the boards of the barrier in stand 5, and waited there with the cape in one hand. The animal, distracted and loose, passed by his side a couple of times, while a strange sensation began to take over the stands.

Suddenly, Morante stepped to the line of the third and bullfought with the veronica, stumbling at first, then with more composure, and two extraordinary passes emerged. The music played and the ecstasy had just begun with the crowd on their feet.

After an anecdotal pass of the bull by the horse, he performed a quite unknown named move: he held the cape gathered in front and passed it behind like a ribbon.

The bugles sounded for the banderillas third. Morante asked for the sticks (big surprise!) and placed a first pair forward, but straight; the second was simply perfect, and for the third… For the third he asked the breeders’ box for a folding chair, sat on it, crossed his legs, raised his arms, and called the bull. He stood up with just enough time to plant a spectacularly bent pair.

Morante, god of bullfighting
Morante, sitting on a chair to place a pair of banderillas with a bend.Eduardo Briones (Europa Press)

By this point, the arena was a madhouse; happy, very happy, that is, but an uncontrollable madhouse.

When the Sevillian took the muleta he already had the highest trophies in his hands. He sat down again on the chair, and drew three high passes in such a way that they composed a Rafael El Gallo film. And from now on, an excellent flow of improvisation, of long and beautiful muletazos and others hooked; and a complete, round natural, which was a lesson in the greatest bullfighting.

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When he prepared to kill, the arena fell silent, prayed, begged that the sword would sink into the noble and dull flesh of the bull, but it was not so. Needless to say, the two laps around the ring were apotheotic; the commotion was such that at the end of the bullfight they wanted to carry him out on shoulders through the Prince’s Gate, but it was not possible despite a long wait, and he left carried through the teams’ gate.

Two final details that should not go unnoticed.

One: Morante’s bull was an unpresentable novice bull, who was a sidekick throughout the fight. It didn’t even accompany, nor was its noble dullness taken into account. There was no other protagonist than Morante, and that is not right.

And two: You have to see how well and how much Seville sings! Everything, absolutely everything seems beautiful to this fun audience that throws olés everywhere without any cause to justify it.

The rest of the bullfight is another story. Morante’s first, a corpse project. Víctor Hernández stood firm for his courage, his steadiness, his pride, and his clear head in front of an unfavorable lot. He painted strokes of good bullfighting, solemn in all respects, in his first, exhausted and noble; and he got close in the sixth, which he dedicated to Morante.

Juan Ortega, for his part, went unnoticed. He received the second on his knees in the middle with a long change, and he looked hesitant and confused. The bull developed a somewhat annoying fighting spirit and the bullfighter never felt comfortable, more concerned with accompanying than commanding. In the fifth, the audience was exhausted after the Morante feast, and Juan Ortega sank before a classless opponent.

Let no one be surprised if one of these days someone registers the Morante religion to worship the bullfighter from La Puebla… Let no one be surprised.

Núñez/Morante, Ortega, Hernández

Bulls by Álvaro Núñez, uneven in presence; very weak first and third; the fourth was a novice bull, and the others were correct; docile at the horses, soft, noble, and exhausted in the final third.

Morante de la Puebla: sword thrust (silence); pinch, half sword thrust and two descabellos (two laps around the ring). He left on shoulders through the teams’ gate.

Juan Ortega: very low sword thrust (ovation); sword thrust (silence).

Víctor Hernández: _warning_ somewhat dropped sword thrust (ear); sword thrust (ovation).

Plaza de La Maestranza. April 16. Sixth subscription event of the April Fair. Full house.

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