Never again will there be
a tango couple like us.
I think we were
the couple of the 20th century and of the 21st as well.
If I die and were to be reborn,
I'd do everything the same again.
Be a tango dancer above all else.
I'd do it all, except for...
being with Juan.
Everything.
OUR LAST TANGO
Subrip: Pix
In life, there's only one time
when you fall in love
and are blinded by that person.
Just one time.
It's your first love.
In my day, there were milongas in every neighborhood
and lots of dances and people went to them.
I remember coming here, to the "Estrella de Maldonado" club only once.
I came with my sister and her friends.
That's the only thing
that I remember about it. Because I didn't dance at that time.
I was very young. My sister wouldn't let me dance,
because then they would all have danced with me, and not with her.
It's been years...
How old were you when you met Juan?
-13 or 14. -13 or 14? - So young?
He's three years older. I'm turning 80, and he's 83.
-Did he dance well? -No, in the beginning he was a cart,
as we used to say, when people couldn't...
That's what people said in the milongas. The word "cart" meant
someone who couldn't dance.
Because I was young
and supposedly good-looking, girls danced with me.
As there was no way to learn other than treading on people,
I kept treading on girls.
I liked the way he looked.
He made an impact on me, I felt something.
Butterflies in my stomach. At night I couldn't get him out of my head.
I hugged the pillow, or I closed my eyes and...
How silly we women are. How silly.
Then he disappeared.
He returned the next year when we were already at the "Atlanta" club,
and by then he danced with great elegance. Only simple steps.
In the time you didn't see him did you wonder where he was?
-No, because I had only seen him once in a club. -But you'd noticed him?
I noticed him, but...
I didn't miss a trick.
Yes, I noticed him.
I can hardly believe that this is the "Atlanta".
I came here from '48 to '50.
The dancefloor was enormous.
It's strange seeing it with this roof. It was open air.
You danced tango and saw the moon.
You saw the stars. It was romantic.
Hundreds of young women and men
with a tremendous love of tango.
All this brings back beautiful memories.
It makes me a bit sad, too. Because I see it has aged,
just like I've aged.
But this is where Maria Nieves came from.
Fine. That's enough. Just a bit, so Maria can get the idea.
It's lovely, what they're doing.
Beautiful.
-But, I danced closer. -Closer?
And with fewer steps.
Especially the first time.
And with more eye contact.
She looked at you, you didn't look at her.
-I didn't look at her? -No. It's like this.
You understand? Later, as professionals,
we parted slightly to do the gancho steps.
But we danced more like this.
Understand? Together.
She was a beautiful girl. She was 16, 17 years old.
And I realized she was what I was looking for,
for my height and the way I moved.
At that moment I knew
I'd found my Stradivarius.
As I danced with Maria Nieves, I asked her, "Will you be my girlfriend?"
She stayed silent and didn't reply.
"I have to ask my sister."
And we chatted too.
"How are you? How was your week?"
Ear to ear. - Did Juan ask you anything the first time you danced? - No.
That's it! Good!
Let her go!
It's very complicated.
Look at each other.
Look up. That's it.
Gently! Onto his back.
That's it!
I'd fallen in love with him. That's all. Dancing was an excuse.
You understand what I'm saying?
I went dancing because that was the joy of the poor.
To go dancing on Saturdays and Sundays.
But I wasn't interested in the dance as much
as in the person.
We had a very bad childhood.
Always there was the pain of not having anything.
I saw my mother going through the trash.
To make a stew, if she found a bone she'd take it,
wash it, boil it, and give it to us.
I never had a doll.
The glass soda siphon we had, that was my doll.
I put a cloth on the bottleneck.
This brings back...
memories.
I didn't know how to dance tango, or that it takes two to tango.
So I took the broom as if I was sweeping and rode it like a horse.
That's what tango did to me when I heard it on the radio.
How did you do your hair to go to the milonga?
The way it was at home all day.
-And your clothes? -The same clothes I'd worn all week to work.
I washed and ironed them.
-And took them with you? -I went wearing them.
My shoes were worn out, everything was worn out.
Everything was old. But I didn't give a damn.
I wanted to dance tango.
The style was born in the "Atlanta" with elements from both of us.
She was quick, I was slow.
We united both elements and discovered something new
that later became a popular style,
the Copes style.
There was no one else for me.
While she was with me, she was the only one.
She was the greatest.
Together for 50 years.
-Can you imagine? -No.
They must have danced all their feelings.
-Yes, most certainly. -50 years!
Maria says she never imagined that it would come to an end.
I hold Juan in very high regard.
I'd like to be his friend.
But that cannot be.
Only I know what I went through. Because it was a partnership
and you can't break up a partnership without looking each other in the eye.
We went to the movies, they were showing "Singin' in the Rain".
And we went at least five times.
We dreamed.
I think we came out of there
and thought we were Gene Kelly and Cyd Charisse.
Don't I look like Gene Kelly? Really, I look like him.
That's a memory that I'll take to the next world.
Maybe I'll meet him there. I am someone who believes
that there is life after death.
So don't be surprised if I meet Gene Kelly.
When they threw us out of the "Atlanta", one of the directors said to me,
"Get out of here, you and your gang. We don't want any more tango."
The same thing was happening all over. Tango clubs were being closed,
because new music was coming. Cumbia came, Rock came.
But I said, "I can't give up.
I'm going to invent something, but I'm going to do something with tango."
He was a creator.
He always said that tango
had to be about more than just going to a milonga.
That it could be something worldwide,
just like Jazz was from the USA.
He was obsessed with that, and he succeeded.
And I accompanied him.
I'm a good companion.
Did you believe in Juan's conviction, that he'd achieve his goal?
I knew he was tenacious and very intelligent and that he truly loved tango.
So yes, I knew he would achieve what he'd set out to do.
When we started to rehearse
he brought in couples from the milongas.
And he told everyone about his dream?
Sure. Yes. And everyone accepted it.
But then no one stuck to it.
You can't imagine the number of good
male and female tango dancers there were in our time.
But they stopped. They got married. They had kids.
Or they didn't have the spark that Juan had.
The period I play, when she was young,
is when Maria decided to follow him in his ideas, which were strange at the time,
and the dream that all his projects were feasible.
The dream and the admiration she had for Juan.
Absolute admiration that she still has.
When she talks about Juan, she says it was he
who invented it all. He had the vision.
Yes, the tenacity and dedication. He was obsessed with dance.
When I saw I had a group of friends with me, I said,
"If tango has so many doors to open
why not try to open one more?"
And that was when I put it on stage for the first time.
To think that it was in this theater
that I made my debut
in 1955!
It brings back very beautiful memories.
And some ugly ones too, because I opened my eyes here.
I was dazzled seeing so many semi-naked women.
It was a revolution in my head. You didn't get that in Villa Pueyrredón,
or in Mataderos or anywhere.
I didn't like it.
Women giving themselves like that.
That hurt me.
And there were lots of chorus girls.
20 chorus girls. The diva, the star, the starlet...
It embarrassed me.
I just wanted to get out of there.
She thought I belonged to her.
But, I didn't belong to her. On the contrary, she belonged to me.
As a human being I always respected her,
totally.
The fact that I had weaknesses, on the other hand,
I think that's natural.
Otherwise I wouldn't be a man.
I wasn't jealous.
No, not at all.
And if I was jealous, I swallowed it all.
You can't keep swapping. Pedro with Juana, then
Pedro with Maria, Juana with Roberto, no, no, no.
You must have patience
and keep moving forward. Even if it's a married couple
and they're arguing,
not to lose the artistic aspect, because
-that's the end. -It can be hard to separate.
No, but you must separate the two. You suffer, but...
it helps you to grow as an artist.
I like solitude, but when I was able to resolve my past
I said, "Now I'm going to do what I like. I'm alone.
I'm financially independent, I don't want for anything", but...
I forgot something.
The years pass.
And being alone is bad for you at 80.
Good. Same again, so she's falling off the table.
That's it.
How come you went to the United States?
Because when we started working here, Juan said,
"I won't stop till Corrientes Ave,"
which was the top for a tango dancer. And we made it.
When he got to Corrientes Avenue he was already thinking,
"I won't stop till New York." He wanted to work on Broadway.
So we set off, as he said,
with a suitcase full of dreams.
Do you know how hungry we were? How difficult it was?
I thought about it, but didn't say anything.
Didn't even tell Nieves we would dance on the table.
I took some chalk
and outlined 1.5 by 1.5 meters.
"Let's try and do the double gancho step in here."
I never told her we were going to do it in a show.
The higher the table became,
the happier I felt.
I was terrified of that table.
She didn't want to get on it for anything.
And every single night we did it, she was afraid of falling off.
But I did it for years, and I always felt panic.
He liked it? He wasn't scared?
No, I don't think so. Men are braver than women.
-And you followed him? -Yes, of course.
-Why? To that extent? -What was I going to do?
It was the only thing I could do.
Dance tango.
-Always with Juan? - Always with Juan. -You never thought of changing? - No.
I didn't even remotely think of that.
Not even for a moment, when things weren't working?
-Not even then. -Not even then. - No.
My dream was to get married and have a family and children.
Of course. My dream wasn't to be an artist.
It never even entered my head.
It was to have a home with children.
But it all turned out differently.
Completely different.
When I got married
I was happy.
Like at any wedding. But I had no white dress.
A long dress wouldn't have been fitting.
For what?
I was very pretty, and I was very emotional.
When we got back here it all started to fall apart.
A marriage in Las Vegas is invalid in all other countries.
So we were both still single. And I told her,
"I'm going to rehearse with five women, because I'm going on tour again."
-She didn't believe me. -I don't think he did it with bad intentions.
He'll have said, "I'll do a little tour with my group.
We'll have some space from each other." I think that's good.
Because I couldn't stand her anymore.
Being on stage is one thing.
It's another being off stage, before and afterwards.
Terrible!
That's when I realized what I could and couldn't stand anymore.
He was handsome.
Very passionate.
He was very gentle.
-He loved me very much. -It's beautiful
-to feel so loved. -Yes!
It was the first time that I felt so loved,
that someone showed me their love.
I enjoyed it a lot, yes. I really enjoyed it.
At first I felt guilty, but later I said, "Guilty? For what?"
You left me on my own, so fuck you!
It's the truth.
You take it and take it till you can't take any more.
Look, they're waving to me.
I danced with five girls, but not like with the one.
I needed my partner again,
to have the woman who danced with me.
When I came back after two years of touring, I shaped her anew,
I made her study and dance, and she changed her look.
She was never as beautiful as in the second part of her life.
I missed him.
But, you see, it doesn't matter.
Whichever way...
I thought I would forget him.
I was very sad.
But I had to choose and I chose...
tango.
Love doesn't exist. For me it's all a lie.
-Don't say that. -It is, darling.
And I reached a conclusion.
You have to use men
and throw them away.
No tear shed by a woman for a man is worth it.
A year later she joined us again, did the table dance and everything.
And "Caño 14" opened.
It was in Caño 14 in Buenos Aires,
something that was imitated a lot where I established the Copes Tango Show.
There, you see? Caño 14 was there.
-That place there? -Yes, I can hardly believe it.
-How long were you here? -About four years.
-It was like being at home. -What a lovely feeling.
And the lovely thing was
how the people enjoyed the tango.
At the weekends men came with their wives.
The same guys came back alone later, droves of men came.
In truth it was great for picking up men.
It was a time of freedom.
And of lots of work. I earned lots of money.
So I could afford the luxury, after finishing work,
of meeting friends, who worked nights, in the fancy places.
Obviously we didn't go there to eat.
We drank and drank.
Because everyone who sat at the table had to buy a round.
I don't remember.
Because, I wasn't doing well either.
But, I never once thought
what he was thinking about.
Besides, it seems stupid
that he sought death,
when it's so simple,
face to face, looking each other in the eye, to say, "This can't go on."
Suicide? No, it wasn't about suicide.
I wanted to live.
But, I had such a huge rage
and I wasn't going to hit anyone.
So I hit myself. It was like I stuck a dagger in myself!
Myriam saved my life.
They say there's no such thing as love at first sight.
That's not true. It exists. I saw him and fell for him.
And when he kissed me, what I felt for him
I'd never felt before for any man.
I've been with Myriam for 42 years. She's given me two daughters.
That didn't happen with Maria. Maria and I always argued.
But, I could have had kids.
Maybe people ask, "Why didn't she have any children?
She must be..." What's it called?
Infertile. No.
If I was 15 or 16 now and wanted a child,
I'd have one. At home I'd be welcomed with open arms,
and I wouldn't be looked down on in the neighborhood.
But, in my day that was taboo.
But yes,
I could have had children.
That's all. I can't tell you anything else.
I have no reason to talk about it. I told you the other day
I don't want to talk anymore.
Let's talk about dancing.
About what time I go to the bathroom, anything.
You can make things up, if you want.
You won't get any further, because I'm going to stay...
like that.
Silent. I won't say anything else.
I won't say anything.
You made me talk about Copes, Copes... You're getting on my nerves with Copes.
Who the fuck is Copes?
It was an actress and singer who said to me, "Maria,
did you know that Juan has a child with another woman?"
That killed me, as you can imagine.
A child with another woman.
I had a thousand thoughts in my head.
People would think that I didn't give him a child,
so he had a child with another woman.
It made me very angry, and I wanted to run out screaming,
because my pride was wounded.
I don't know.
It's difficult to judge this. Very difficult.
It's difficult to judge another person's life.
They seemed like a couple...
without equal.
They had the world at their feet. They were the tango.
For 30 years it was just them.
In terms of dance, what they had was so strong
that it was untouchable.
Maybe having a family
was dangerous for them. Who knows?
I don't regret anything.
Life panned out as it did. I accepted it.
And I carried on living. I can't regret everything.
That's why I advise young women
who marry and are tango dancers,
not to delay having a child.
Because tango can wait for two, three or four years.
Because they're young.
Because once you realize, it's too late. That's what happened to me.
You know what my mother said to me?
You can have another man,
but for the rest of your life your husband will be Juan.
Dance freely now.
When things were difficult, did you ever think of quitting tango?
No.
If the thought arose, then I rejected it at once,
because all my life I had fought for that.
So I had to continue.
So, no.
-Never? -Never.
I was hurt. But that helped me
to rise a bit higher,
because I was always beneath him.
I said to myself,
"I'll show you. I'll mop the floor with you on stage."
Yes, I remember that.
Not knock him down,
but try to show him up.
And I grew a lot during that time.
For me as a dancer it was magnificent.
I danced with hate on stage.
What stands out to me is a certain disconnectedness,
-which is interesting. - In their look? -In their look. - Disconnectedness?
-Show me. -Yes, look. Each one is looking away.
-They're not looking at each other. -Compared to the other photos...
They used to be more connected.
-Yes, there's no comparison. -It's like they're absent.
That must really have happened to them.
I can't explain it.
Because they say there was a time when they danced, but didn't talk.
That they only saw each other on stage.
It's like dancing with a stranger.
I think they're connected in their disconnectedness.
I think the difficult thing
is how to sustain such a stormy relationship for so many years.
I don't know if I could have sustained a relationship like that.
I have the greatest possible gratitude for the "Tango Argentino" show.
On Broadway it was like a revolution.
Tango-mania.
In the New York Times they said that the best dancers
were Maria Nieves and I.
We worked all the time, we were very well paid,
and I could do what I wanted to do.
-Adagio. -I could ensure I lacked nothing,
that my siblings were alright, that my mother lived like a queen...
I was always focused on helping my family.
We cursed each other when we danced, but nobody noticed.
"Have you been eating heavy rocks?", he said to me.
All through gritted teeth, with a smile.
Because if you argue, you lose concentration with what you're doing.
Seeing you dance, I feel there was something in the dance
that transcended the conflicts.
Yes, I think it was the love of tango.
That it was worth continuing,
although we had separated.
To continue with the tango, something we'd devoted our lives to.
Because there was nothing,
we didn't even look at each other. Nothing.
-We came out, and danced... -How is it working like that?
As a professional,
if your mother dies,
you have to continue.
So we continued dancing. It doesn't matter
what happened. What matters is what you do.
Many years passed.
We got on extremely well once we'd worked everything out.
When he started a family
and I forgot about things.
Artistically it was wonderful.
We danced for many more years.
The artistic separation came many years later.
That hurt me the most, more than anything.
One year earlier we signed a contract for Japan.
And I told her, "When we're back from Japan, it's over."
And I did what I'd said.
Great.
I feel moved.
Tango has something very special about it,
which is communication
between partners. So when we dance it
we feel countless emotions,
as it can be with love,
but also with hate.
I was born to dance tango
and I will die for my tango.
Many thanks.
-Was that improvised, Maria? -Yes.
It was the first time I spoke.
Afterwards I threw up in the restroom.
From the nerves.
I put up with it for 25 years of my life.
There was a tour to Japan and I said to Juan Carlos,
"I think the chapter with Nieves is finished. Think about it.
If you come back home, it's without Nieves as a dance partner.
If you carry on dancing with Nieves, don't come home."
And he came home.
Ugly.
Horrible.
Awful.
Inhuman.
I'd never have done that to him.
Never ever.
It hurt me a lot.
I was...
like a kitten in the shower
being squirted with water.
It was a dagger in the heart,
that tore it apart.
I thought it was over for me
with tango.
I need to dance every night.
I need it in order to feel well.
The body changes, so does the way of dancing.
The only thing I'm not losing is the feeling.
When they separated and stopped dancing together in '97,
after more than 40 years of dancing together,
of course my father missed dancing with Maria.
Even though, when I started to dance, I was practically a clone of Maria,
I still didn't take Maria Nieves' place when I started dancing with him.
Maria is unique. It's impossible to fill her shoes.
This is what I do every night.
At the age of 83.
I don't feel it.
At times I get thinking,
and it makes me mad to think that I'm 83.
-People remember you together. -I'm sure.
Without a doubt.
-And it was for many years. -Yes.
Do you know why it ended?
In truth I haven't the faintest idea.
But, things change. Once time has passed you say, "Well."
On the one hand I'm grateful.
Because that same pain
made me become a better person,
a better artist,
and a better tango dancer.
So I have to be grateful for that separation.
I couldn't believe it.
It gave me goose bumps.
It can't be true! Then at some point I thought
they were applauding me out of pity.
I swear by my mother.
They see I'm old.
And then I accepted it, I said, "No, Maria,
you are a veteran, but on stage you're a lioness."
Hearing that applause, getting a standing ovation in Luna Park,
that was the greatest thing for me.
That's when I realized
I was worth a lot.
More than I believed.
I think everything has changed in my life.
I rose again like a phoenix.
With more vitality, with more joy.
And alone.
Which was the most important part.
Alone.
It makes me sad to know I'm not going to be able to dance anymore,
which is what I love most.
In my dreams I'd dance for ten more years.
Retire? No. I'm not even thinking of it.
I was born with the tango, I devoted myself to the tango,
I transformed it, and I want to die with the tango.
Yes, I've suffered a lot, but I think all women suffer.
All men suffer, sooner or later in life.
I remember all the bad things,
but I remember with happiness and with forgiveness.
Because now I am me.
For good or for bad, I am Maria Nieves.