When I read that the Barcelona Wax Museum was closing, I understood it, at the same time that it made me sad. My relationship with this museum was peculiar, because I have always liked museums from other eras, such as Natural History museums. I went once, in my wild youth, out of my own humor, not without fetishism, and I stole Ramon Llull's finger (I swear). Not long ago, I invited my brother-in-law ---who also enjoys this nostalgic streak--- to give him a scare, which I planned with perfect rigor. I love the building. It is on Paseo de la Banca, next to La Rambla (and on La Rambla is where the mythical ticket office to buy tickets is located) because before, of course, it was a bank.
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And it is for all this that I was very happy to read, also, that the museum was reopening because a group of businessmen had decided to convert it into a modern and spectacular museum. One of these businessmen is Toni Cruz, ex trinco, and taking advantage of the fact that I know him, I ask him if he can show it to me. It is difficult, I tell you now, to explain the visit to you, because it seems to me that there are many surprises that it is better not to reveal. Toni tells me ---and I think he is right--- that they wanted to make "the best wax museum in the world", but it's not just that.
When you enter, the first thing you will find is an audiovisual ---here you can see the hand of someone who understands television--- that explains, in Catalan, Spanish and English and many images, what Catalonia is. And then, of course, you enter the room dedicated to Catalonia: There are some "castellers", of course, but the grace they have is the movement they transmit, taking advantage of the natural scenography; in this case, the staircase. Throughout the visit I realize this idea: that of the movement of the figures. Those that have been newly built have life due to their body attitude. Those that remain from before are too hieratic. Toni tells me: "If they are too hieratic you don't believe them."
The museum, needless to say, is renovating its roster of famous figures. Think that, before the reopening, the last pope there was John Paul II and the most famous celebrity, Sara Montiel. Now, we can find Greta Thunberg in a space, by the way, where there are very understandable explanations about the climate. But let's continue. In the room about Catalonia, we can find Catalan writers (some of whom, like Father Cinto Verdaguer, from "portraits of the era") and, very importantly, their most famous writings superimposed on the wall. Anyone who goes to the museum will be able to read La vaca cega. I think that's important.
As I was telling you, I'm not telling you everything, because you deserve, like myself, to have a scare in the assassins' room and to be able to play, like myself, with the audiovisuals. But I can tell you, for example, that the fun and modern thing about the museum is the interactivity. They allow you to touch the figures and, therefore, you can take a selfie with Merkel. Or sit in the Star Wars ship, the Millennium Falcon, next to Chewbacca. You can enter a space rocket, you can walk among light effects, you can camouflage yourself among the characters of La casa de papel, who are in the basement of the building, where the various client safes used to be. It's fantastic to be able to see them.
Perhaps some of you remember, from the old museum, the room where the various dictators resided in complete harmony. Arafat, Hitler, Franco... Now, they have been placed in a corridor called "of good and evil." In the good zone, for example, is Teresa of Calcutta. In the evil one, them. And it's interesting that, again, on the walls there are superimposed phrases they said (both sides). In the room where the dictators were, now are the idols of pop music. Elton John, the Beatles, Bowie... In the room next door, are the classics: Joaquin Rodrigo, Pau Casals... And what I'm going to say now seems obvious, but an obviousness that, perhaps because it's so obvious, no one had thought of before. Since what we see are musicians, when we see them we hear the music they made.
Upon leaving the museum, everyone talks about the elevator, and rightly so. The elevator alone, I tell you no more, is worth the visit to the museum. But what impressed me most was the chefs' room. In a kitchen with the Ratatouille mouse are ---for now--- the three Roca brothers. It "is" them. Toni tells me that these three figures were made with a scanner (by scanning their faces) and, therefore, they are ---the verb suits us perfectly--- identical to the real ones. I would only say, in truth, that the flesh-and-blood Pitu Roca is thinner. Go to the wax museum. You will have fun.