"When one leaves, what remains is what one gave." This powerful statement, now an emblem of Juan Gabriel’s enduring legacy, underpins the new Netflix documentary, Juan Gabriel: I Owe, I Can, and I Want To. The film brings renewed focus to one of the most controversial moments of his career: his landmark performance at Mexico City’s Palacio de Bellas Artes on May 9, 1990. That night forever altered the relationship between popular culture and high art in Mexico.
Known as the "maximum temple of the arts," Bellas Artes opened its doors to the Divo of Juárez at the peak of his fame. He was accompanied by the National Symphony Orchestra, led by Maestro Enrique Patrón de Rueda, with symphonic arrangements by Maestro Eduardo Magallanes. This recital merged popular song with concert music in an evening that became a media phenomenon, yet also sparked a firestorm of criticism.
In 1990, a significant portion of Mexico’s artistic and academic community viewed it as an affront to allow a popular music artist onto the country’s most prestigious stage. Critics, primarily from cultural newspapers and magazines, accused the National Institute of Fine Arts of "profaning" the venue with a mass spectacle. Conservative cultural sectors voiced their opposition through opinion columns, letters, and televised debates. They argued that the Palace should be reserved for opera, ballet, or classical music, not for songs heard on the radio or at popular outdoor festivals.
The controversy also carried undertones of class and prejudice. Juan Gabriel represented the masses, the popular, elements many intellectuals still considered "alien" to the established cultural canon. As contemporary chroniclers noted, some even described the event as a "contamination of cultural space by mass culture."
On the other side, Mexican essayist Carlos Monsiváis enthusiastically defended the Divo’s presence at Bellas Artes. The celebrated chronicler wrote that the concert marked an "apotheosis of new cultural times," a reconciliation between high art and the people. Monsiváis contended that denying Juan Gabriel access to that stage was equivalent to denying the artistic value of popular emotion.
Key cultural officials also approved the event. VÃctor Flores Olea, a crucial figure in authorizing the presentation, and Rafael Tovar y de Teresa, then Director General of the National Institute of Fine Arts, gave their consent. Both agreed on the necessity of opening official spaces to popular artistic expressions of high value. Juan Gabriel’s office and Maestro Eduardo Magallanes were the direct promoters, managing and presenting the final project to the Institute. Reports from the era indicate that a portion of the concert’s earnings was allocated to support the National Symphony Orchestra, bridging two worlds that had previously remained separate.
The cost of admission reflected the exclusivity of the event. Tickets ranged from $70,000 to $300,000 Mexican pesos, not including resale prices. As noted by Monsiváis, this amounted to approximately $4,000 to $16,000 USD today. Only the affluent could access the venue.
As a young journalist apprentice, I was sent to capture the "color" outside the concert. There wasn’t much to report from the throngs of well-dressed attendees adorned in jewels and expensive furs. Then, through a stroke of luck, I encountered a friend who offered me a ticket. I dashed inside, securing a seat high up in the theater.
For over two hours, Juan Gabriel delivered a powerful repertoire that included "Amor eterno," "Querida," "Hasta que te conocÃ," and "No tengo dinero." Standing ovations shattered the usual decorum of Bellas Artes, transforming solemnity into a collective celebration. I watched in disbelief as ladies in their expensive fur coats removed their necklaces and scarves, waving them in the air, dancing to the rhythm of his music.
The concert drew prominent public figures, including then-First Lady Cecilia Occelli de Salinas, alongside artists, journalists, and diplomats. Juan Gabriel was joined by the Mariachi Arriba Juárez, complementing the orchestral musicians, in a production that combined his characteristic dramatism with the majesty of the venue. The result was a resounding success. Bellas Artes sang and danced. The concert was recorded and released as a historic album, Juan Gabriel in the Palacio de Bellas Artes, and images of the Divo addressing the audience from that stage became an indelible part of Mexican cultural memory.
The night at Bellas Artes redefined what it meant to be a popular artist in Mexico. What some initially perceived as an act of rebellion ultimately became a turning point. Following Juan Gabriel, other popular artists like Lola Beltrán and Armando Manzanero were also able to perform at the revered venue. Three decades later, the controversy has transformed into an homage. This weekend, the concert will be projected in Mexico City’s Zócalo as part of the Netflix documentary’s launch. The film features previously unreleased footage from the artist’s personal archives and reflects on his profound legacy.
Thus, the spirit of the man who defied labels and prejudices once again fills the air of Mexico City. As he himself declared, "When one leaves, what remains is what one gave."