In previous Issues, we have visited the Dominican Republic, where the new world’s first Carnival was held, and Veracruz – where Spain’s conquest of the American mainland began. Compared to Mexico and Peru, the “Southern Cone” – which includes most of Argentina and Uruguay - was sparsely populated before the colonial era. Subsisting by hunting, gathering, and basic farming, the native peoples did not develop urban spaces like those found in the Aztec and Incan empires. The area around the Rio de La Plata eventually became a center for cattle raising and the manufacture of leather goods. But precious metals were lacking, and the Spaniards were slow to foster other economic activities.
Under the treaty of Tordesillas, ratified by Pope Julius II in 1506, the world outside of Europe was notionally divided between Portugal and Spain. The scheme granted the coast of Brazil to Lisbon; the rest of Latin America fell under the dominion of Madrid. But the geography of the western hemisphere was only vaguely understood. Even as their wealth grew exponentially, the Spanish worried about incursions by their Iberian neighbors. To reinforce their claim, the port of Buenos Aires was settled in the 16th century. Across the river, Montevideo was established as a fortified city in the 1720s. Both were administered from Lima until 1776, when the Viceroyalty of Rio de La Plata was proclaimed.
The Napoleonic Wars effectively ended Spanish control of the territory. British attacks in 1806-7 were repulsed by local forces, but that did not signal fealty to the motherland. Revolution in 1810 created the United Provinces of the Rio de La Plata; Uruguay broke away in 1828.
Relations between Argentina and Uruguay were contentious, even violent, for decades. Yet their respective capitals, separated by just 200 kilometers, maintained ties of language, trade, and religion. We can meaningfully speak of a common Rioplatense culture, enjoying similar cuisines, with a shared passion for futbol, and gloriously expressed through tango.
Indigenous and Mestizo populations are small compared to other parts of the continent. The 19th century saw a boom in immigration from Europe— Spain and Italy especially. Naturally, these migrants continued to observe the festive celebrations of their homelands. One demographic difference, however, makes Montevideo’s Carnival distinct.
In 2011, 4.6% of Uruguayans identified as Black – a tiny percentage compared to Brazil or the Spanish-speaking Caribbean. But it is still significant when contrasted with Argentina, where less than 1% claim African descent. Numbers aside, Afro-Uruguayans have had a cultural impact manifested in many ways, including the art of candombe.
Candombe should not be confused with Brazilian Candomblé, although both words have been etymologically linked to West Africa, and the practices have other similarities. As the journalist Ana Laura de Brito explains:
Even though for the majority of Uruguayans candombe is simply a musical rhythm, the drums enclose another great mystery, born in Africa, that is more religious than cultural…phonetically, the terms candombe and Candomblé can immediately be associated, and currently they have a similar significance. Candombe is a social gathering to play drums and dance, while Candomblé refers to gatherings of a ritual nature where drums and dancing are also present.
The rhythms of Candombe resound during llamadas, or “calls” which brings together various bands of musicians, folkloric characters, and devotees of the music. In the colonial era, llamadas were first held on the 6th of January – the feast of Epiphany, or Three Kings’ Day. At that time gatherings of Blacks, whether free or enslaved, were severely restricted. Things were relaxed, to some extent, during the holiday.
Candombe percussion now fuels the inaugural parade that kicks off Montevideo’s extended Carnival. However, the season is not generally marked by the kind of rowdy street parties one finds elsewhere. Indeed, if you walk around the city in the days leading up to Lent, you may be hard-pressed to find any signs of revelry. Yet it would be a mistake to conclude that locals don’t savor the celebration. Rather, the main festivities are held at arenas, theaters, and other venues in and around the capital.
Each night, crowds gather to watch tabladas – entertainments staged by community groups. There are various types of ensembles – murgas, comparsas, and parodistas. The latter, as the name suggests, present comic sketches, although music is also a part of their act. All the troupes are engaged in creative competition; judges deduct points when a presentation exceeds designated time limits. The most successful performances demonstrate production values worthy of Broadway or the West End. Candombe is never far from the surface, while there are stylistic echoes of commedia dell’arte, European cabaret, and Vaudeville.
The Teatro de Verano is a popular and prominent destination for the shows. Located in the Parque Rodo neighborhood, the “Summer Theater” was inaugurated in 1956. Outside of Carnival season, it has hosted international rockers like Lou Reed, Vampire Weekend, and Patti Smith, along with such Latin luminaries as Celia Cruz, Caetano Veloso, and Bad Bunny. Close to golden sand beaches and luxury high rises, El Teatro is clearly a modern structure. But its open-air seating evokes ancient Greek amphitheaters – in function as well as form.
It is well documented that classical drama arose from an Athenian festival honoring Dionysos, the god of wine. The works of Euripides, Aeschylus, and Sophocles explored universal themes that still resonate. Critical discourse, however, tends to treat the plays as abstract, deracinated text, rather than products of a vibrant communal experience. David Kawalko Roselli, an American scholar, offers a crucial corrective in this regard.
Theater of The People, Roselli’s 2011 study, gives due focus to dialogue and the songs of the chorus. But he also provides detailed context around the physical space, and the composition of audiences:
Spectators were able to drink, eat, carouse, and generally express their thoughts with abandon. Some of them wore garlands, thus advertising their participation in the ritual celebration of Dionysus (sic). This atmosphere perhaps led to Horace’s claim that the spectators of Greek tragedy were all drunk…festival exuberance ruled the day.
Whether comic or tragic, plays at the festival were part of a contest. Poets and producers vied like Olympic athletes, and those who were victorious enjoyed a similar prestige. It is important to note that the works that have survived to our millennium represent only a tiny portion of all those that were staged. There is an element of hubris in assuming the received canon necessarily includes the most well-regarded productions of their time.
In ancient Athens, as in contemporary Montevideo, those judging the shows received pride of place, close to the stage. In contrast to sport, the scoring of artistic efforts is inherently subjective. Even with clearly established criteria, judges can’t completely transcend their personal biases. At the same time, crowd reactions are difficult to ignore. Persuasively, Roselli argues that those creating Greek drama played to the “cheap seats” in ways both subtle and blatant.
Today, Uruguay is viewed as one of Latin America’s most stable democracies. But the nation was under military rule from 1973 until 1985. As has so often been the case, Carnival entertainment provided an outlet for dissent. Topical allusions remain popular.
2500 years ago, Aristophanes’ Lysistrata famously expressed public weariness with the ongoing Peloponnesian War. A few years earlier, in Clouds, he viciously lampooned Socrates. Satirical references to other public figures were also common. It’s fair to assume that Old Comedy featured other “in jokes” whose meanings now eludes us, but which would have delighted those who originally heard them.
Beyond the action on stage, public processions began and ended Athens’ five-day festival of drama. Processions can also be seen at El Teatro, albeit on a smaller scale. When their allotted time ends, musicians and dancers will often wend through the audience, eventually reaching a kind of pavilion set aside for vendors of food and drink. As the delicious aroma of parrilla-grilled meats fills the air, they mingle with friends and family. Joyously, people discuss the tabladas they have seen, and those still to come.
Many sip yerba maté, the herbal infusion ubiquitous in the region. Others enjoy cold pilsner or tannat, the red wine which is the glory of Uruguay’s burgeoning viticulture industry. Montevideo’s Carnival may not be everybody’s ideal bacchanal. But in its own fashion it is decidedly, gloriously, Dionysian.
So no change there! It was always a peaceful respite after the craziness of Buenos Aires to cross the river to Montevideo
It’s over 20 years since we’ve been to Montevideo so it’s fascinating to read your contemporary account. Clearly we need to get back there!.