Alfredo Sanzol has the sight of a very wise kid, comprehending and mocking, perpetually surprised and amazed; a kid on his own, on a roof or an attic, looking at sunset, at the other side of the moon with a telescope of great magnifying power, and in the other side of the moon he finds family adultery, thefts that are not what they seem, open graves, unbelievable tales, very funny and terrible stories.
Alfredo Sanzol has reached consecration with a spectacular quintet -Sí, pero no lo soy (2008), Días estupendos (2010), Delicadas (2010), En la luna (2011) and Aventura (2012)- in which we could also include La calma mágica, his last comedy just premiered this last autumn.
Performance after performance, Sanzol is composing over the scene a lateral and impressionist biography of his childhood and adolescence (the winters in Pamplona and Madrid, the eternal summers in Quintanavides) which he summarizes in the memorable quote: "I tell the stories to invent the facts that I cannot remember, and to tell them, I apply the feelings that I do keep".
In his penultimate work, Aventura, he has written about all that surrounds him and surrounds us: the crisis, the fears, and the rottenness they produce.
The strategies of Sanzol:
1) his appeal for common and fabulous people, which he observes "in circles", with their greatness and miseries, with humor and poetry, with lightness and secret deepness.
2) his talent to draft complete and complex portraits in a few minutes and his capacity to make us understand, by removing our preconceptions, the points of view that initially we might consider indefensible.
3) his capacity for detecting the subterranean turbulences and his way of building comical situations from which an increasing menace stems, without allowing us to foresee to what side will the balance tip.
4) his way of embracing the risks with subtlety, the, with a lateral advance, daring to flee from the expected (and the expected normally is the fast-paced rythim that apparently is requested in today's comedy).
If Sanzol was to write tales, he would be a storyteller to the leveñ of Roal Dahl or Pere Calders; if he made television, he would be the new Jaime Armiñan. But he has chosen dramatic comedy, either by chapters or in "long" format, and in both cases he merges his texts as a careful score of counterpoints, applying an marvelous ear for dialogue and narration. Popular and complex theatre, which does not highlight its intentions, and never underestimates its audience, making it laugh and excited.