Every story begins with the seed of an idea. For this one, Venezuelan conductor Gustavo Dudamel decided he needed to go beyond the traditional to celebrate Ludwig van Beethoven’s 250th anniversary. In April 2022, he brought together the Los Angeles Philharmonic Orchestra and Deaf West Theatre to premiere a new staging of Beethoven’s Fidelio (1805). Taking part were the Coro de Manos Blancas, a non-professional group of musicians from Venezuela. Following the success, Dudamel alongside Alberto Arvelo, staged another production, this time in Venezuela with the Coro de Manos Blancas in the lead roles. Director María Valverdes documentary Hands of Song chronicles the journey to stage the first ever sign language performance of Fidelio.
Art’s integrity has always been compromised by inequality or lack of inclusion, notably gender-based. The Brontë Sisters, Mary Ann Evans (George Eliot) and Amantine Lucile Aurore Dupin (George Sand) were forced to write under pseudonyms, in order for their work to be taken seriously. Then there’s Clara Schumann, the wife of composer Robert Schumann, who was never recognised as a composer during in her own lifetime. While she had a successful concert career as a pianist, she was sadly denied broader acknowledgements. The examples of inequality and exclusivity go on. It’s from this that Valverdes’ film draws its power, by shining a light on those that champion inclusivity.
Hands of Song swiftly moves through its setup, explaining the roots of the Coro. In 1975, Maestro José Antonio Abreu created The National System of Youth and Children’s Orchestras and Choirs of Venezuela, which is commonly known as El Sistema. According to the film, this programme “aims to democratise music for people in situations of risk, exclusion and isolation.” The Coro de Manos Blancas is a part of this visionary programme that enables people with disabilities to musically express themselves.
Valverdes’ film is not only about Dudamel, Arvelo and the Coro de Manos Blancas’ present-day journey, but also the historical one, begun by Maestro Abreu. Opening up the critique, cinema can be described as a conversation, and this is a useful context in which to view the journey Hands of Song chronicles. Staging Fidelio is engaging with an ongoing conversation, in which artists are given a space to add to the interpretation begun by Beethoven himself in 1805, when the opera first premiered. As the universal adage says, to thrive, art must be discussed. Given that Beethoven suffered hearing loss throughout his lifetime, it only feels fitting that Fidelio should be interpreted and staged by deaf musicians. The endeavour of Dudamel, Arvelo and the Coro is a testament to the fact that art can be reinvigorated in novel ways. There is, however, an expression of humour behind this idealist endeavour. Dudamel in one scene asks, “What would Beethoven think of us?” His answer: we’re crazy.
Given that Hands of Song is described as the “genesis for an opera group that doesn’t exist”, it positions the film as an important historical record. It also serves as an insightful reflection on the creative process, where Alvero expresses that by acting, you cease to be you. Instead, you transform and become free. To him, the joy of acting is living other lives and splitting yourself. And watching him work with the performers gives an insightful glimpse into the painstaking attention to detail required to tell any story.
What Valverdes appreciates is that while her documentary is about the staging of Fidelio, it must also give time to the human stories of those involved. Identifying a core group, she explores the life experiences of deaf people, highlighting their inherent challenges. They include José Gabriel who was abandoned by his mother when he was 10 years old (he only discovered sign language aged 17). And while she explores the resiliency of her subjects, she never turns them into objects for the audience to pity. Instead, they are people we should admire.
Song of Hands showed at the 25th REC Tarragona International Film Festival.
