Germán Cornejo, Tango After Dark director, calls the art form ‘a dialogue’

“The King of Tango” is coming to Chicago. Dancer and choreographer Germán Cornejo will bring his troupe of dazzling dancers and their Argentine production Tango After Dark to Orchestra Hall for a grand exhibition of rhythm, passion and physical derring-do for an SCP Special Concert on Feb. 28. As ever, he’ll perform with his partner, Gisela Galeassi, and four other couples to arrangements of music by the late tango composer and pioneer Astor Piazzolla, who decades ago revolutionized the nearly 150-year-old art form, born in Argentina, with a once controversial jazz-and-classical-infused version dubbed nuevo tango.  

Not long before Cornejo’s appearance here, the former “America’s Got Talent” contestant, now 39, discussed various facets of his increasingly successful career and of tango itself.

On personal authorship vs. collaboration:

Tango, by nature, is a dialogue. Even when I create a strong choreographic structure, I leave space for the dancers’ individuality to emerge. My role is to set a framework — an emotional and physical landscape — but within that, each dancer brings their own timing, musicality and presence. Improvisation is not about chaos; it’s about listening. Onstage, as in social tango, something alive happens when dancers are truly connected and responsive. That’s where authenticity appears, and that’s what keeps the work breathing.

On honoring Piazzolla while creating something new:

With Piazzolla, honoring him means understanding his courage. He didn’t break tradition to destroy it — he expanded it. I don’t try to imitate his rupture, but I do feel responsible for maintaining that same spirit of honesty and risk. I know I’m on the right path when the work feels necessary, not decorative — when the movement responds organically to the music and speaks from the present moment, not from nostalgia.

On evolving tango while maintaining its soul:

For me, it’s not about evolution versus tradition — it’s about honesty. Tango has an extraordinary plasticity: the embrace, the connection, the truth between two bodies is its core. As long as that remains intact, the dance can expand, evolve, and even merge with other styles. The soul of tango is lost only when movement stops being honest. Every exploration is valid as long as the intention, the human connection and the embrace remain real.

On tango’s continuing power to shock:

Tango has a unique physical language — the complexity of the legs, the precision of ganchos, voleos, adornments — combined with a deep emotional intensity. What can still shock today is that contrast: two bodies moving from the simplicity of an embrace to extreme technical complexity, all within a shared pulse. When emotional truth, intensity and physical mastery coexist, the effect can be deeply unsettling — in the best sense.

On his changing relationship to his body:

Time has brought respect. I listen to my body much more now. I no longer feel the need to do more to prove something. My style has always lived between muscular release and tension—between contraction and release, like an elastic. That dynamic gives my tango a very particular plasticity, with a lot of dynamism and precision. Today, what’s added is experience: the ability to fully inhabit those moments, to enjoy them deeply, and to live the dance not only as choreography, but as presence — being completely in the moment.

On maintaining tradition while growing artistically:

Social tango and stage tango evolve along different paths, even though they share the same roots. The social essence of tango lives in the milongas — spaces of play, anonymity and connection, where there is no performance, only experience. Those spaces are very much alive around the world. When tango moves to the stage, it becomes a theatrical experience. The presence of an audience changes everything. It’s no longer a social ritual, but an artistic language. Both forms are valid. They run in parallel, not in conflict.

On the evolution of his leadership style:

With time, I’ve learned to listen more. I still move forward with my ideas, but I now deeply value the perspectives of others. Leadership today means creating a space of trust, play and shared growth. I’m less attached to being right and more interested in collective intelligence. The goal is not just excellence, but a creative environment where people feel seen, challenged and inspired.

On meeting resistance, as Piazzolla did, to his creative choices:

I’ve heard everything — from how tango “should” look, to clichés rooted in old films: the rose in the mouth, the scarf, the garter. Those images are part of history, but they’re not the whole story. I respect tradition deeply, but I don’t believe tango should be frozen in time. I listen to criticism that challenges my thinking, but I ignore anything that tries to limit identity or imagination.

On his expanded and reshaped understanding of tango’s cultural identity:

Distance clarifies essence. Being away intensifies the nostalgia, the melancholy, the bohemian spirit of tango. Everything feels deeper. You begin to understand that tango isn’t about form — it’s about content. About emotion, memory and contradiction. Traveling has expanded my understanding, while also grounding me more firmly in what truly matters.

On his biggest creative challenge:

What’s hardest is challenging expectations. Often, people arrive with a fixed image of what tango should be. Tango After Dark is inspired by Piazzolla, whose music represents modern Buenos Aires — the city, its contradictions, its present reality. That sometimes clashes with nostalgic expectations of tango as something from a different century. For me, respecting lineage means honoring roots while speaking in a contemporary voice. Tango doesn’t need to be simplified to be universal.

On what constitutes true artistic risk:

The real artistic risk today is repetition — falling back on formulas I already know will work. With experience, there’s a constant temptation to rely on what is familiar, what has been successful before. That’s the comfortable path. The challenge, and the true risk, is choosing not to stay there. Each new work asks me to question myself again: to search for new perspectives within the same language, to avoid copying my own past, and to remain open to uncertainty. Tango is still my core, but I believe it only stays alive if I keep moving forward —curious, present and willing to step into the unknown rather than repeating what I already master. 

On how he wants to impact audiences:

I hope they leave with a sense of awe — a feeling of being moved, even stunned. Beyond technique or spectacle, I want them to feel the dedication, the unity and the passion — not in a superficial or sensual way, but as a deep commitment to this music, this dance and this cultural identity. That shared intensity between two bodies dancing as one — that’s what I hope stays with them.