Most Westerners know, or think they know, the story of Salome. Most of them have at least heard about "the dance of the seven veils," the story of a young woman who danced for Herod and demanded the head of John the Baptist in exchange for her dancing.

And this story of jealousy, sex and death will unfold at the Poly Theater today and tomorrow.

If you are a dance lover or a fan of Carlos Saura films like "Carmen" or "Tango," this dance should absolutely thrill you. For everyone else, it will be a unique theatrical experience.

"No film director has managed to portray flamenco like Carlos Saura and there is no dancer today, who can interpret its throbbing rhythms like Aida Gomez," said Ou Jianping, a Beijing-based dance critic.

With Saura's daring art direction, essentially based on light and shade, with the apparent simplicity of minimal sets, the production underlines the formidable beauty of a dance that reinterprets the flamenco, confronting it with the spirit of some of its most ancient origins.

Extreme love

The story tells a tragedy that happened more than 2,000 years ago in Galilee, when a young woman asks for the head of a man as the price for her dancing.

At Herod's birthday party, Herod wants his stepdaughter Salome to dance for him, whatever it takes. But she refuses, having eyes only for a man called the Baptist.

Salome tries to seduce the saintly man, and fails. Frustrated, angry, she grants Herod his wish, and does a most beautiful, sensuous, provocative dance for him. Herod approaches her, victorious, only to be left petrified by the girl's request: Salome wants the head of John the Baptist.

During her stint as director of the Spanish Classical Ballet, Aida Gomez, one of the most popular Spanish dancers, became obsessed with some of the great myths related to the Mediterranean world and the need to translate them into a dance that would spring from the same roots.

She wants to shape a ballet using pure flamenco as well as flamenco ballet or "Danza Espaiola" -- its formal offspring.

She submitted the project to Saura, asking him to direct for the theater a ballet based on the story of Salome.

"When she came to me, I did not know much about her but I was thrilled by her suggestion. Her charm and passion and talent in dance has impressed me. A new idea came out of that encounter and I wanted to make a ballet and, at the same time, a fiction film," said Saura.

"Salome," the film and the ballet were born at the same time and share the same creative phases. Consideration was given to the possibility of shooting the "rehearsals," real or fictitious, in high-definition video.

It was decided to take full advantage of the flexibility of the medium in order to capture the moments of preparation and distinguish, through fine nuances of definition and depth of colors, the rehearsals from the ballet itself. Perfection was going to be reserved for the "finished work."

The idea of a young girl demanding the head of a man in simple exchange for a dance may be perceived as something monstrous given the completely disproportionate terms of exchange. It is impossible not to wonder why she did it.

In his answer, Saura is inclined towards the sexual sphere. He interprets Salome, above all, as an embodiment of desire.

Salome did it because she desired John. She "castrated" him because she loved him.

To desire a human being to the point of wanting to destroy him might be an aberration, but what is beyond question is that such an aberration is of great significance to Western culture.

Salome loves, but loves only for herself. It is an impatient love, urgent and pressing, which doesn't take "no" for an answer. Salome wants to possess the object of her desire; she wants it in any form -- even dead.

For such an interpretation, Saura gives full attention to the limitations of the medium. In ballet, dialogues cannot be used. Complex storylines and contradictory narrative have to be ruled out, historical elements have to be forgotten, and the focus has to remain on what can be told with the means inherent to dance, music and light: emotions.

Saura "simply" sets beauty on stage and lets emotion take hold of your senses.

Gomez dances, frowns, smiles, swivels, glides, undresses, and the audience find themselves fascinated with that bright, red, sensual butterfly fluttering among blue screens.

You will definitely be moved by Gomez, who tries to get closer to Salome, to understand her desire and to render it in gestures.

You will be moved by Salome the woman, who shivers as she puts her arms round the head of the man she desires above and beyond everything else. The two exist, at the same time.

To find the music to convey these ideas was quite a challenge. With flamenco rhythms unifying the entire composition, Roque Banos succeeded in integrating elements that are not usually easy to pitch together.

Inspired by Arabian or Pakistani melodies, religious pieces by Bach, Haendel and Telemann, Banos uses wind instruments and Indian percussions to create an unexpected and electrifying dialogue with flamenco in its purest form.

Director of dance

Saura is known for his portrayal of the passion of dance.

"Dance is a wonderful way that mankind has to express ourselves. I love dance, especially Flamenco and I myself dance well. Moving to a certain music could bring out many new ideas," says Saura.

Many of his well-known films are about dance, especially flamenco, such as "the flamenco trilogy" -- "Boda de Sangre" (1981), "Carmen" (1983) and "El Amor Brujo" (1986).

His film "Flamenco" (1995) is a collection of musicians and dancers performing various styles of flamenco, and "Tango" (1998) is basically a stage-door musical. The main character is making the definitive film about tango when his girlfriend leaves him. The plot is designed to let the dancing drive the film.

These are, understandably, some of Saura's best-known films to watch, but not all of the 37 films he has made are about flamenco or even dancing.

His first film, "La Tarde del Domingo," was a short made upon his graduation from the Escuela Oficial de Cinematografia, that came out in 1956.

Realizing he needed creative control after a disappointing "Llanto por un Bandido" (1964), he teamed up with a producer who allowed him the freedom he wanted. It was during this time that the movies which many regard as his best came out.

Born in Huesca, Spain in 1932 to a lawyer and a pianist, Saura's first artistic interest was photography. His brother Antonio, a well-known abstract expressionist painter, was the one who suggested Saura study film.

As a freelance photographer, Saura became well known for his portraits of dancers and musicians. This love resurfaced in his later films.

(China Daily November 11, 2004)