In the documentary, the owners of Toni tell the story of the mythical Vigo nightclub

Carlos López Silveira, manager of Toni’s Guitars club together with his brother Eladio, “Lala”, is like the mayor of Vigo. He cannot take a step without being stopped to shake his hand. The difference is that he gained his popularity for decades behind the bar, providing moments of happiness to such a diverse clientele, that it is impossible to determine the profile of the domestic customer, because he changed from time to time, like life.

Carlos or Charlie, as everyone knows him, is a hotel hottie, unable to say his age out loud, but he is not so conceited as to deny it: “I am seven nine, and my brother Lalo is eight five”, he admits, original.

Two years ago, they lowered the curtain on the underground and unique world of excess night. But it couldn’t stay that way. And although one of the club’s mottos was:What happens at Toni’s, stays at Toni’s», there is information that cannot be withheld from future generations. There is a documentary about that that will be released next Thursday, March 30at 20:00 at Northern multiplex.

Its author is from Porriñés who lives in Vigo Ruben de Marina. Versatile artist, trained as actor in Madrid, where he studied acting and dramaturgy, debuts with this film in which he delves into the peculiar history of this bar which is the same child when he came to Vigo, with the same discretion with which the myth of flamenco and the dramatic rumba that broke the mold were handled. “He would stand in the corner and not move, but then he would gladly go to Kamen na kanice. He could have taken three dozen in one sitting,” recalls Carlos, who now regrets not having the memories with him, “but I wasn’t into photos and those stories,” he says.

Rubén entered Toni’s house for the first time at the age of 23 and little by little he formed a friendship with the brothers that continues to this day. The director of the film, — who also just released his first novel love and ruins— explains that it was difficult for him to convince them, but he succeeded. “The idea is his,” admits Carlos, who was not seen talking about the details of the space where the privacy of the clientele has always been sacrosanct. “He is very discreet about his privacy and that of others, he doesn’t like to show off, but in the end they agreed and in the summer of 2019 we went with them to shoot on location for four days, with some cameras. who were also clients”, he recalls the process that continued in leaps and bounds due to Carlos’s health condition, which had to leave his working life due to heart surgery, and after recovery until the outbreak of the pandemic. “In March 2020, when we were closed, Toni reopened four months ago. They stopped and never came back,” Rubén says, confirming Carlos, who remembers that he didn’t stop paying the bills while the bar was closed without being able to invoice.

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Toni was opened in 1962, but Lalo, who played the guitar At the slightest opportunity, he took over the club in 1969. In the 1990s, his brother arrived and the curtain came down in October 2021, but now the digital curtain opens again with footage witnessed by its protagonists. For Rubén, the important thing about this film is also that it conveys a way of understanding hospitality that no longer exists: “Behind the bar there are no longer people who listen to you or look you in the eye,” he muses.

Natalia Barciela is the co-producer, together with Susana Giráldez and Zircocine, of the documentary they titled Toni´s Club-Night life. For now, only one performance is planned, although it is likely that there will be more, as the hall has only 150 seats. The documentary will also start its career at various festivals.

Carlos, who reveals that at the age of 17 he worked in a nightclub in Vigo’s Chinatown called El nido del cuco, worked as a bartender, therapist and confessor for Toni, and also played in a band Charlies boys. Although he assures that the items from the bar were stolen, in his house he still keeps dozens of memorabilia from that space where nothing else could fit, a unique place in the basement that was reached by narrow stairs. Downstairs, on the carpet and red sofas, people from the local bourgeoisie had fun for decades, young people who let their hair down to the rhythm Raffaello Carr without shame when it is not in fashion, the Erasmus students who recommended this unavoidable visit to their compatriots, and the lake etc. addicts of a place that could be in another city, but it was in Vigo. There was a time when the acquired fame was already under pressure from hoteliers: “He would come, and there was already a line at the door. They didn’t even give me a coat to take off,” he says about that time. Film buff Carlos López, now in film, warned his clients, “Reality is up there,” and sums up his career this way: “My life has been colossal.” End.