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      Book Review: ‘Chita: A Memoir,’ by Chita Rivera with Patrick Pacheco

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      Her new memoir finds the 90-year-old singer-dancer hungry for acclaim, but generous to others on her way to getting it.CHITA: A Memoir, by Chita Rivera with Patrick PachecoHow did Chita Rivera feel when she saw Rita Moreno, another actress of Puerto Rican descent, in the movie role of Anita that Rivera had originated on Broadway in “West Side Story”?“How dare she?” she recalls thinking in “Chita,” her playful and history-rich memoir. “That is my dress, that is my earring!” The truth is she was already kicking it up with Dick Van Dyke on Broadway in “Bye Bye Birdie” at the time. So she got over it. Then, when that show became a movie, Janet Leigh took Rivera’s part of Rosie, even after Rivera killed with “Spanish Rose,” her stereotype-bashing number, on “The Ed Sullivan Show.” (Look it up on YouTube, you won’t be sorry.)Years later the steamy role of Velma Kelly that she originated in “Chicago” for Bob Fosse went to Catherine Zeta-Jones, who won an Oscar for it. “She’s the perfect choice,” she responded when Rob Marshall, its director, checked in.Cutthroat as the acting game may be, and even harder for talent with Hispanic names long before J. Lo, Lin-Manuel Miranda, Rosie Perez and Daphne Rubin-Vega hit the scene, Rivera comes off as thirsty for recognition — but not bloodthirsty — despite the urgings of her colleagues Gwen Verdon, Fred Ebb and others to up her diva game.She occasionally takes a satisfying swipe (Paul Lynde gets a dressing-down for being nasty and so does John Lennon, of all people, when she appeared with the Beatles in 1964). But most everyone else gets a pass, including Tony Mordente, her first husband, a dancer whom she met in “West Side Story”; Lisa Mordente, their daughter; and the many loves of her life that she recalls with generosity — the restaurateur Joe Allen and Sammy Davis Jr., among them.“There’s nothing wrong with ambition,” Davis once told her. It took some time for Dolores Conchita Figueroa del Rivero to understand that. A tomboy born in 1933 and raised in Washington, D.C., by a poised mother of mixed ancestry who worked for the Defense Department and a dapper Puerto Rican musician father who died when she was little, Rivera got a scholarship to the School of American Ballet when she was 16. She moved in with relatives in the Bronx and describes a heady time of bodegas, subways, public school and intimidating ballet instructors. Overcoming her fear of singing, she got into the national tour of “Call Me Madam” with Elaine Stritch, then on Broadway in “Guys and Dolls” and “Can-Can,” starring Verdon. With “West Side Story,” her career took off.Broadway-loving readers will appreciate the play-by-play (pun intended) of this fizzy book, written in collaboration with Patrick Pacheco, a theater-savvy journalist and TV host. It doesn’t take much to make the pages fly when you have a scene of Stritch in rehearsals with Rivera, “blowing” on the Scotch in her coffee cup, or a pre-rehab Liza Minnelli playing her daughter in “The Rink.” Essentially a good girl, despite her insistence that she has a fire-breathing alter ego, Dolores (who occasionally makes herself heard in the book), at 90, this national icon doesn’t seem to want to burn many bridges. If roles or songs were taken from her and given to others, all for the best. She doesn’t get too political either, although she does unload about what it means to play Latina characters “subjected to racist taunts,” and on her defining early role as a street-sassy Puerto Rican. When Rivera was suggested for “1491,” one of his lesser-known shows, Meredith Willson, who wrote “The Music Man,” asked, “Doesn’t she speak with an accent?” She allows that while she bumped into ethnic stereotypes, the theater world was more relaxed than Hollywood. “I wanted to be considered for a range of roles and for the most part I succeeded,” she writes.One role she never played, this upbeat memoir makes clear — the victim.Bob Morris is a frequent contributor to The Times and the author of “Assisted Loving” and “Bobby Wonderful.”CHITA: A Memoir | By Chita Rivera with Patrick Pacheco | Illustrated | 320 pp. | Harper One | $27.99 More

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      How Her Ancestors Reignited Her Return to Theater

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      Quiara Alegría Hudes is back with a new work, an Off Broadway production of “My Broken Language,” adapted from her 2021 memoir.In 2018, the playwright Quiara Alegría Hudes announced that she would be taking a pause from the theater. The art form she loved so much had become a source of heartbreak: She was tired of the industry’s lack of cultural diversity, the disinterest those in power had in changing the status quo and the anxiety she felt leading up to opening night (the unexpected hiccups, the uncertainty of how a work would be received by critics and audience members).When it came to producing works by playwrights of color, she began to feel as if her Pulitzer Prize-winning play, “Water by the Spoonful,” about a Puerto Rican war veteran recently returned from Iraq, and “In the Heights,” her Tony-winning musical with Lin-Manuel Miranda, were exceptions more often than the rule. During the 2018-2019 season, for example, only three writers of color had their work produced on Broadway.In order to heal, Hudes went on an inner retreat. Turning to her memories, she sought out the people who taught her how to tend to her body and spirit. This soulful journey resulted in “My Broken Language,” an impressionistic coming-of-age memoir published in 2021 that detailed the shame she felt over being fluent in her Jewish father’s native English, but not her Puerto Rican mother’s Spanish. It was that same sense of incompleteness that led her to take a break from the theater.While recording the audiobook, Hudes noted her prose sometimes had the rhythm of a monologue. “It was the one-woman play,” she said. That realization, combined with her wanting to step up as a community leader, ignited her desire to return to theater — despite the heartbreak. “Let me get some real bodies and spirits on this,” she recalled thinking during our video chat. Now, Hudes’s stage adaptation of her book, also called “My Broken Language,” is running at Signature Theater through Nov. 27.From left, Samora la Perdida (seated), Zabryna Guevara, Daphne Rubin-Vega, Yani Marin and Marilyn Torres in “My Broken Language.”Richard Termine for The New York TimesOnstage, she is embodied by five people, including one of her frequent collaborators, Daphne Rubin-Vega, all of whom play different shades of the author. Hudes, now 45, had moments of not recognizing the person on the page. She made peace with it by realizing, “it was all the identities of mine, but it was also all the identities of all the women who raised me and who I love.” “My Broken Language,” in all its forms, is also partly a celebration of her ancestors, and how often unintentionally they inspired her to become a writer. “Our archive is in us and of us,” she wrote in the script for the play. On a practical level, in tune with changing what once made her turn away from the theater, Hudes wanted to ensure the production contributes to moving the industry forward in terms of representation in casting. In the script, she insists, “these are Philly Rican roles” for Latina actors.Born and raised in Philadelphia, Hudes comes from a long line of Puerto Rican women who excelled at building community and developing strong spiritual values. Her mother, Virginia Sanchez, who features prominently in the book and the play, is a renowned santera, who instilled love and respect for their Taína-Lukumí-Boricua legacy, as well as a fascination with words. One of Sanchez’s favorite possessions is a 19th-century Spanish dictionary that she uses to search for words people may have forgotten.“The book smells like our elders, it has its own soul,” Sanchez said over a video call, “it contains one of our identities.” In spite of her daughter’s “broken language,” Sanchez said she believes “Quiara always had a gift for words, she knows how to transform her experiences into a form of teaching.”Bill Heck and Liza Colón-Zayas in “Water by the Spoonful,” which had its New York premiere in 2013 at Second Stage Theater.Karli Cadel for The New York TimesLin-Manuel Miranda, center left, and Karen Olivo in the musical “In the Heights” at the Richard Rodgers Theater.Sara Krulwich/The New York TimesIndeed, the playwright extracts wisdom from experiences she had growing up, such as seeing her mother possessed by a spirit. “To do that literally onstage would be vulgar,” Hudes explained. So she transformed her memories into words and then into physical movements that would make sense onstage with the help of the choreographer Ebony Williams. The goal is to create actions that evoke the feeling of being in between universes.The play also marks Hudes’s directorial debut. She describes the work of a director as one of “community care,” and compares it to a gardener choosing the seeds, planting them, and then nurturing them toward excellence. “Directing is the process,” she said.“Her rehearsal room feels like home,” said Samora la Perdida, who plays one of Hudes’ alter egos, describing “walls decorated with altars to our ancestors, tables with guava and cheese empanadas from her favorite spot in Washington Heights, a stereo blasting Frankie Ruiz.”Of Hudes, Rubin-Vega added, “She leads with openhearted professionalism.”Rethinking the meaning of community and how to affect it is what led Hudes to resume her theater work. After publishing her memoir, she discovered a new community in a world of readers who reacted emotionally to her stories and reminded her of her purpose.“Quiara is giving our community the opportunity to talk about the raw pain we’ve inherited, not only as women or immigrants but as people,” Sanchez said. “My daughter is a keeper of our lineage, a witness of our experience.”Although they work in different fields, Hudes said she believes she and her mother have overlapping journeys. “We break through the vines with our machetes, finding our own way, sharing strategies and celebrating triumphs,” Hudes added.“Quiara accepted her tongue for what it was in order to create a language of her own,” la Perdida said, “a language that shamelessly dances with both her Latina roots and Western canon influences. A language with the rhythms of Chopin and Juan Luis Guerra, inspired by the poetic prose of both Shakespeare and José Rivera.”After five years away, Hudes said she is enjoying the various pleasures that come with working in the theater again, like being in a room full of Latino artists, her community. She finds it to be utterly therapeutic. “I often crunch up in my seat, kind of like a ball, and then pop up, it’s so much fun to live all these old habits again,” she said. More

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      Ariana DeBose Becomes the Second Latina to Win an Acting Oscar

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      Ariana DeBose won the Oscar for best supporting actress for her role as Anita in Steven Spielberg’s adaptation of “West Side Story.” It is her first Academy Award. The outcome was expected but historic nonetheless as the 31-year-old actress becomes only the second Latina to nab an Oscar. The first one was Rita Moreno, who won in 1962 for the same role in the original film version. DeBose is also the first openly queer star to win an acting Oscar.DeBose beat out Jessie Buckley (“The Lost Daughter”), Judi Dench (“Belfast”), Kirsten Dunst (“The Power of the Dog”) and Aunjanue Ellis (“King Richard”). In accepting the award, DeBose made reference to being a queer woman of color and said:Imagine this little girl in the back seat of a white Ford Focus. Look into her eyes. You see a queer — openly queer — woman of color, an Afro-Latina, who found her strength in life through art, and that’s what I believe we are here to celebrate. So to anybody who has ever questioned your identity — ever, ever, ever, — or you find yourself living in the gray spaces, I promise you this: There is indeed a place for us.DeBose also nabbed statues at the Screen Actors Guild Awards and the British Academy Film Awards for her magnetic performance as an America-loving seamstress who adores both Bernardo and his younger sister, Maria. The actress-singer-dancer has also been nominated for a Tony for her role as Donna Summer in the short-lived musical “Summer: The Donna Summer Musical.”DeBose will next be seen in Matthew Vaughn’s spy movie, “Argylle,” for Apple TV+. More

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      ‘Encanto’ May Be Accurate, but Can It Carry a Whole Country?

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      The filmmakers behind the Disney hit worked for cultural accuracy. Some Colombians and Colombian Americans are looking for more.“Encanto” wasn’t always set in Colombia.The germ of the idea for the Disney feature can be traced to 2016, when the “Encanto” directors Jared Bush and Byron Howard were still working on “Zootopia.” They knew they wanted to tell a story about family — and how family members can struggle to truly see each other. Then they asked: Where should this movie take place?Enter Natalie Osma and Juan Rendon, two Colombian filmmakers who worked on the behind-the-scenes documentary “Imagining Zootopia.”“As we were trying to figure out all of these perspectives and how to bring all the wonders and splinters of Latin America in a way that felt real,” Bush said, “they were like, ‘It’s the crossroads. Everything you can imagine is there.’”Osma and Rendon both became members of the Colombian Cultural Trust, a 10-member group of specialists — historians and anthropologists, biologists and botanists — dedicated to the movie’s details.“Encanto” has been praised for its cultural accuracy. And many Colombians and Colombian Americans loved the film — but it has also started a debate: What can and can’t one movie capture about a country?Whether it’s the racial dynamics that exist today or a strong sense of place in a country one-ninth the size of the United States, the film’s portrayal of nuanced and critical topics has sparked countless discussions among those of Colombian descent.“I found it charming,” the writer and editor Camilo Garzón said in an interview. “I found it beautiful. At the same time, it fell short in terms of what representation for representation’s sake can be.”He explained, “In the spirit of American meliorism, the criticism is to make things better, not necessarily because I didn’t like it.”Colombia, located where Central and South America meet, is home to more than 50 million inhabitants, and its rich cultural heritage reflects influences from Indigenous populations, European colonization, enslaved African people and later immigration.In Hollywood, the nation has been used mainly to tell stories about drugs, drug lords and violence — known as narconovelas — and that is why “Encanto” means so much: The country has never received treatment like this from a major American studio before.Explore the World of ‘Encanto’Disney’s new film, about a gifted family in Colombia, pairs stunning animation with spellbinding songs by Lin-Manuel Miranda.Review: “Encanto” charms with its focus on family dynamics, fantastic feats of wizardry and respect for Latino culture, writes our film critic.Colombian Picture: The movie has been praised for its cultural accuracy. But for many Colombians, it has sparked a conversation about cultural representation.The Voice of Mirabel: Stephanie Beatriz, who won over fans with her role in “Brooklyn Nine-Nine,” discusses taking on the lead role in the film.An Enchanting Soundtrack: The film’s album of music recently climbed to the top of the Billboard 200, displacing Adele’s “30.”A Slice of His Homeland: A Times reporter watched “Encanto” with her Colombian father. Here’s what they thought.The film, which is up for the Oscar for best animated feature this month — follows the Madrigals. Years ago, Alma Madrigal fled her home to escape armed conflict. She saved her three infants but lost her husband. Devastated, the matriarch clung to the candle lighting her way, which became enchanted. Its magic imbues her family members with fantastical gifts when they come of age — except for Alma’s youngest granddaughter, Mirabel.In 2018, Bush; Howard; the executive music producer Tom MacDougall; Lin-Manuel Miranda, who wrote eight songs for the film; and Miranda’s father, Luis A. Miranda Jr., credited as a story consultant, traveled through Colombia for two weeks on a research trip.They started in sunny Cartagena on the Caribbean coast, drove roughly an hour and a half to San Basilio de Palenque, visited in and around the capital, Bogotá, and saw Bucaramanga, the city of parks. In Barichara, they heard traditional bambuco music, which would inspire the song “Waiting on a Miracle.” They ended in the Eje Cafetero, the coffee-growing region, including Salento and the Valle de Cocora. The soaring wax palm trees of the valley would later feature heavily onscreen.The research process continued throughout the five years of production. Familia, a group of Latino Disney employees, was assembled to share personal perspectives that would help shape the film. Iterations of the project were screened about eight times, said a producer of the film, Yvett Merino. Familia, which she is part of, watched each time and read early scripts.“I joke that they were like true family, because they gave us true feedback,” Merino said. “When they didn’t like something, they really let us know.”The opposite held true, too: Members of the Colombian Cultural Trust made clear what they thought should be included, like the story line of conflict and displacement.In 2016, the Colombian government signed a peace deal with the largest guerrilla group, the Revolutionary Armed Forces of Colombia, supposedly heralding the end of a conflict that had left more than 220,000 people dead over more than half a century.“We were repeatedly asked, ‘Please don’t shy away from that; that is part of our history,’” Bush said. “By going through it, you also see the incredible resilience of Colombians.”Garzón, the writer and editor, was born in Bogotá and moved to the United States at the age of 18. “It’s beautiful to see different things that you’re like, ‘Oh, my God, this makes me feel back at home,’” he said in an interview. “And at the same time, that’s not home, because home wouldn’t look like that.”He contrasted the pueblo surrounding the Madrigal family’s enchanted house with the town of Macondo, where the Colombian author Gabriel García Márquez set his novel “100 Years of Solitude.” Both are fictional, but Macondo is believed to be based on Aracataca, García Márquez’s actual childhood home, while the pueblo is an amalgam of Colombian sites.“That cheapens the places, cheapens the significance of the geographies,” said Garzón, who critiqued the film’s generic setting in an article for Intervenxions, an online publication of the Latinx Project at New York University.He also saw a family whose members looked deeply different from one another, but lived in harmony — without ever talking about how race affects their lives.This, he said, was unrealistic: It was a representation of Colombia projected from an American perspective. But as he kept watching, he began to see the film’s depiction instead as an ideal to strive for — whether or not that was the filmmakers’ intent.Aiko Hilkinger, a Japanese German animation screenwriter from Colombia, thought “Encanto” was visually beautiful, stunning. It looked like Colombia, she said. But echoing Garzón, she said it didn’t feel like home. And she wrote as much, in an op-ed for Remezcla.“Because of the lack of Colombian people behind this film in positions where they could make decisions and actively influence people — particularly from the directing and the writing perspective — it doesn’t feel like a Colombian film,” Hilkinger said in an interview. “It doesn’t feel like you’re portraying Colombian culture and Colombian people in a way that’s authentic to Colombia.”Hilkinger said it seemed to her that the film was made more for Latinos who were born or living in the United States than for those from or living in Colombia. At the same time, though, she loves that young Latinos are seeing themselves onscreen, connecting with characters who look like them.Lina Britto, an associate professor of Latin American and Caribbean history at Northwestern University, agreed with the criticisms about place and race. “But I think expecting that from a movie like this would be not understanding the alphabet that they are using to write the story,” she said. “And the alphabet is the alphabet of magical realism.”The professor, who is from Colombia, said accuracy was not necessarily a concern or a goal in magical realism. She said the film’s premise — that the Madrigals received magical gifts as a result of overcoming tragedy — could open up a conversation about the history and reality of Colombia in an artistic manner.“Each person has his own unique talent,” Britto said, “that is the product of each one of them transmuting the trauma into something special and something unique and something that is going to be of service to others, not just to themselves.”Britto views each gift or talent as a form of justice and reparation. Which, she said, is “absolutely crucial” to Colombia at this moment, as the peace deal between the government and the Revolutionary Armed Forces of Colombia threatens to unravel. In the courage of the young protagonist, Mirabel, and the receptiveness of young viewers, though, she sees hope for the future.“It’s the audience — and the insightfulness, the intelligence, the open-mindedness of this generation,” Britto said, “that has pushed older people — the producers, the creators — to be more daring.”In Colombia, “Encanto” was the highest-grossing film of 2021. According to the culture minister, Angélica Mayolo, almost four million people saw the movie in theaters, generating more than $10 million at the box office. (A percentage of that, totaling about $560,000, goes to the country’s Film Development Fund, which helps filmmakers with screenplay development, production and more.)“What, for me, would be the greatest win or success for ‘Encanto’ — aside from the three award nominations in the Oscars — is how the world now sees Colombia,” Mayolo said in an interview. “We’re no longer seen just as the country of drug lords. We are seen in a more positive way.”Mayolo pointed to the more than 16 companies currently working on production in the country — including Netflix, with “100 Years of Solitude” and “Freelance,” starring John Cena and Alison Brie — as proof that they way the world views Colombia is changing.She added: “We cannot deny our history and our conflict. But what we really want to reaffirm is our new moment.” More

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      Oscar Rewind: When Rita Moreno Made History and Thanked No One

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      The actress explains why she gave one of the shortest Academy speeches ever when she became the first Latina to win an acting Oscar 60 years ago.It was the night that cemented her place in history, and Rita Moreno almost skipped it.In February 1962, Moreno, then 30, was in the Philippines, shooting “Cry of Battle” — a black-and-white World War II film in which she played the English-speaking leader of a band of Filipino fighters. So when she found out that she had been nominated for her first Academy Award — for best supporting actress for her performance as Anita in “West Side Story” — she took a moment to celebrate. And then, she got pragmatic.As a star of “Cry of Battle,” she would still be needed on set — 7,300 miles from the Santa Monica Civic Auditorium, where that year’s Oscars ceremony would take place in April.“I was absolutely positive Judy Garland was going to win for ‘Judgment at Nuremberg,’” Moreno, now 90 and still vivacious and irreverent, said in a recent phone conversation from Carmel-by-the-Sea, Calif., where she was on a trip with her daughter.But then she won a Golden Globe — and had a change of heart. She bought an airplane ticket.“I flew into California thinking, ‘Hey, if there’s one iota of a chance that I may win, I need to be there,” said Moreno, who was up against Garland, Fay Bainter (“The Children’s Hour”), Lotte Lenya (“The Roman Spring of Mrs. Stone”) and Una Merkel (“Summer and Smoke”).It didn’t hurt that the film she was nominated for — “West Side Story,” Robert Wise’s adaptation of the Broadway musical — was a hit both at the box office and among critics, or that it had racked up 11 nominations, including best picture. The New York Times film critic Bosley Crowther called it “a cinema masterpiece.”But leading up to the ceremony, Moreno was so pessimistic about her chances that she practiced her “loser face” and made up speeches about how “it was a lousy movie” and she “didn’t want it anyway.” But her heart wasn’t in it. She did want to win — badly.So on April 9, 1962, when Rock Hudson opened the envelope, paused, then read her name — making Moreno, who is Puerto Rican, the first Latina actress to win an Academy Award — her saucer-size eyes and open mouth said it all.Explore the 2022 Academy AwardsThe 94th Academy Awards will be held on March 27 in Los Angeles.A Makeover: On Oscar night, you can expect a refreshed, slimmer telecast and a few new awards. But are all of the tweaks a good thing?Best Actress Race: Who will win? There are cases to be made for and against each contender, and no one has an obvious advantage.A Hit: Ryusuke Hamaguchi’s “Drive My Car” is the season’s unlikely Oscar smash. The director Bong Joon Ho is happy to discuss its success.  Making History: Troy Kotsur, who stars in “CODA” as a fisherman struggling to relate to his daughter, is the first deaf man to earn an Oscar nomination for acting. ‘Improbable Journey’: “Lunana: A Yak in the Classroom” was filmed on a shoestring budget in a remote Himalayan village. In a first for Bhutan, the movie is now an Oscar nominee.“I didn’t expect to win,” Moreno said, then added with a laugh, “No one who’s watched it can argue with that.”But as she walked to the stage in her Pitoy Moreno gown, with a voluminous black-and-gold skirt and black sleeveless top, open-mouthed every step of the way, she had just one thing on her mind. (Well, two: The first, she said, was “Don’t run; it’s not dignified.”)“I remember thinking very clearly, ‘Do not thank anyone,’” she said. “They didn’t give you the part as a favor. They were forced to give it to you because you did the best screen test.”She delivered one of the shortest acceptance speeches in Oscars history: “I can’t believe it! Good Lord! I leave you with that.” It lasted just seven seconds.“I ran out of anything to say once I decided I wasn’t going to say thank you,” she said. “And I’ve been trying to make up for it with long acceptance speeches ever since.”But offstage, her night was only getting started: After accepting the award from Hudson, she ran into Joan Crawford backstage, who was there to present the best actor award and, as Moreno put it, “drunk as a skunk on vodka.”“She hugged me so hard she covered my face entirely,” Moreno said. “She was built like a linebacker. And she’s hugging me and the photographer is saying ‘Miss Crawford, I can’t see your face. Would you please uncover your face?’”Backstage Moreno missed the night’s other most memorable bit of drama: A New York City cabdriver, upset that Bob Hope hadn’t been nominated for his role as a radio host in “The Big Broadcast of 1938,” sneaked in, climbed onstage and announced, “Ladies and gentleman, I’m the world’s greatest gate-crasher and I just came here to present Bob Hope with his 1938 trophy.”He promptly produced a homemade statuette.“Really?” Moreno said when told of the episode. “I don’t recall that at all! I must’ve won the Oscar just before that and been in the press room. That’s the only way I wouldn’t remember that. That’s unforgettable.”Moreno didn’t linger too long after her big win, as she had a 15-hour flight back to Manila the next day. Her early departure also meant she missed all the phone calls, flowers and telegrams that arrived for her in the United States. But a friend told her later that up and down El Barrio in New York — Latinos stuck their heads out their windows the moment Hudson announced Moreno’s name — and screamed.“I was deprived of all of that wonderfulness because I had to go back and make this [expletive] war movie in Manila,” she said.Our Reviews of the 10 Best-Picture Oscar NomineesCard 1 of 10“Belfast.” More

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      in Music

      Tito Matos, Virtuoso of a Puerto Rican Sound, Dies at 53

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      A lifelong champion of the plena genre, he helped rejuvenate it for a new generation both in Puerto Rico and in New York.Tito Matos, a master percussionist, revered educator and lifelong champion of the Puerto Rican style of music known as plena, died on Jan. 18 in San Juan, P.R. He was 53.His wife, Mariana Reyes Angleró, said the cause was a heart attack.Mr. Matos was a virtuoso of the requinto, the smallest and highest-pitched hand-held drum, or pandereta, used in plena. Rooted in African song traditions, plena emerged in the early 20th century on the southern coast of Puerto Rico and came to be known as “el periódico cantado,” or “the sung newspaper.” In street-corner style, it narrated stories, some gossipy, about love and the concerns of everyday working-class and Black Puerto Ricans. In its early years, wealthy elites maligned the genre.Mr. Matos was a member of multiple plena groups but first gained wide recognition with the band Viento de Agua, founded in New York in 1996. It reimagined plena and bomba, another Afro-Puerto Rican style of music and dance, by infusing them with jazz textures, exuberant horn sections and Cuban batá rhythms.For Mr. Matos, the band’s first album, “De Puerto Rico al Mundo” (1998), opened the door to a dynamic career that transformed him into one of the foremost plena practitioners of his generation.Héctor René Matos Otero was born on June 15, 1968, in the Río Piedras district of San Juan, one of three children of Héctor Matos Gámbaro and Hilda I. Otero Maldonado. His father was an accountant and a salsa enthusiast; his mother is a homemaker.Raised in Villa Palmeras, a barrio of the Santurce section that is considered a nexus of bomba and plena, Héctor embraced plena as an 8-year-old when his grandfather gave him his first pandereta, for the Three Kings Day holiday. Héctor had no formal musical training and could not read sheet music, but his love for plena was planted.He moved to New York in 1994 and eventually completed a degree in landscape architecture at City College. He entered a new diasporic community of musicians, joining Los Pleneros de la 21, an intergenerational East Harlem ensemble, and learning from plena masters who had migrated to New York in the 1940s and ’50s.Mr. Matos, third from left, playing the pandereta in 2014. “He got a lot of young people to just pick up a pandereta,” a friend said, “who were not necessarily interested in plena.”Hiroyuki Ito for The New York TimesIn New York, he met Ricardo Pons and Alberto Toro, two saxophonist-arrangers. “Tito was addicted to plena,” Mr. Pons said in a phone interview. “Un fiebrú,” he added, laughing, “like he had a fever.”Historically, only certain families were custodians of plena, charged with keeping its traditions and rhythms alive. “It was a problem, because they were very restrictive,” Mr. Matos said in an interview in 2010.Instead, Viento de Agua sought innovation. “It was not about conserving plena or bomba,” Mr. Pons said; “it was about doing whatever we wanted with it.”The group’s album “De Puerto Rico al Mundo” was infused with an irreverent, imaginative spirit. Writing in The New York Times, Peter Watrous praised it as “exuberant and raucous.”The group performed in Mexico, Cuba and across the United States, sometimes accompanied by a full jazz band.“Tito was super, super gregarious and charismatic,” Ed Morales, a journalist, author and friend of Mr. Matos, said in a phone interview. Mr. Matos, he added, had a special ability to reach Puerto Ricans both on the island and in the diaspora and instill in them a sense of communion — particularly when he performed at a biennial concert at Hostos Community College in the Bronx.“You really got to feel the connection between people in Puerto Rico and people in New York more than almost any other place,” Mr. Morales said.In the early 2000s Mr. Matos returned to Puerto Rico, where he became an educator and cultural advocate. He co-founded Plenazos Callejeros, a monthly initiative that gathered musicians across Puerto Rico for spontaneous plena performances on street corners.“He got a lot of young people to just pick up a pandereta,” Mr. Morales said — “people who were not necessarily interested in plena, because maybe they thought it sounded corny or something, or it wasn’t like salsa or hip-hop or reggaeton.”Today, plena is undergoing a cultural renaissance; in recent years it has played a central role in progressive political gatherings and protests in Puerto Rico, including those in the summer of 2019 that led to the resignation of Gov. Ricardo Rosselló.Subsequent projects led Mr. Matos to collaborate with stars like Eddie Palmieri, Ricky Martin and the jazz saxophonist and composer Miguel Zenón. Mr. Matos later founded the band La Máquina Insular, which focused on returning plena back to its roots.In 2015, he and his wife founded La Junta, a bar and performance space in Santurce, where they hosted live music and plena workshops. Hurricane Maria destroyed the space in 2017, but its spirit was revived in “La Casa de la Plena,” a historical exhibition, curated by the couple, that opened in May 2021 at the Taller Comunidad La Goyco, a community center they established in an abandoned Santurce school building they had renovated.In addition to his mother and his wife, whom he married in 2013, Mr. Matos is survived by their son, Marcelo; two children from previous marriages that ended in divorce, Celiana and Héctor; a brother, Yan Matos Otero; and a sister, Glennis Matos Otero.A procession this month honoring Mr. Matos in San Juan drew hundreds.Taller Comunidad – La GoycoOn Jan. 21, Mr. Matos was honored with an immense procession in Santurce. Friends, family members and dozens of fans walked the streets, drumming on panderetas and singing words of gratitude. “Muchas gracias, te amamos,” they chanted — “Thank you very much. We love you.” More

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      $50 Million Gift to Juilliard Targets Racial Disparities in Music

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      The renowned conservatory will use a grant from a California foundation to expand a training program focused largely on Black and Latino schoolchildren.For three decades, the Juilliard School has sought to bring more diversity to classical music by offering a weekend training program aimed largely at Black and Latino schoolchildren.Now the renowned conservatory is planning a major expansion of the initiative, known as the Music Advancement Program: Juilliard announced on Thursday that it had received a $50 million gift that it would use to increase enrollment in the program by 40 percent and to provide full scholarships to all participants.“This will be transformational,” Damian Woetzel, Juilliard’s president, said in an interview. “It will broaden the pathway to the highest level of classical music education in such a significant way.”The gift is from Crankstart, a foundation in California backed by the venture capitalist Michael Moritz and his wife, Harriet Heyman, a writer, who are longtime supporters of the program.Heyman, in announcing the gift, pointed to the lack of racial and ethnic diversity in American orchestras, where only about 4 percent of musicians are Black or Hispanic. The Music Advancement Program’s “commitment to recruiting underrepresented minorities will help bring new spirit, as well as superb young musicians, to orchestras, concert halls and theaters everywhere,” Heyman said in a statement.Juilliard aims to expand enrollment to 100 students, up from 70. The initiative will also broaden its reach to include younger students. (It currently serves children ages 8 through 18.) And in addition to full scholarships for all students, the gift will be used to create a fund to help them buy instruments.The program includes ear training, instrument lessons and theory classes for its students, who largely come from New York City public schools. Students can enroll for four years. The program costs $3,400 per year, though many students receive full or partial scholarships, currently funded from a variety of sources.While just seven Music Advancement Program students since 2010 have ended up in Juilliard’s undergraduate program, more have entered other prestigious institutions, including the Manhattan School of Music, Berklee College of Music and New England Conservatory. And 61 of the students have gained admission to Juilliard’s prestigious pre-college division.Anthony McGill, the New York Philharmonic’s principal clarinet and the artistic director of the program, said the gift would allow Juilliard to reach students who might have been reluctant to apply because of financial considerations.“We needed to make sure there were no barriers to getting more of the students we want into our program,” McGill said in an interview. “We wanted to open the doors, the pathways, to their success.”The program was founded in 1991 as a way of providing rigorous training for promising young musicians at a time when many New York schools were cutting music education classes. The initiative has at times faced financial difficulties. Juilliard almost suspended it in 2009, citing budget cuts and problems raising money. A group of donors, including Moritz and Heyman, eventually came to the rescue. In 2013, the couple stepped up again, giving $5 million.The program’s expansion comes amid a broader push by artists and cultural institutions to address longstanding inequities in classical music. Weston Sprott, who helps oversee the program as dean of Juilliard’s preparatory division, said being a musician of color was too often a lonely experience, and that ensembles should better reflect the diversity of their communities.“Oftentimes, as musicians of color, the reward that we get for our success is isolation,” Sprott, who is Black, said in an interview. “Classical music can’t be the best it can be without these young people that we’re bringing into our programs.” More