I loved this spectacular show so much that within ten minutes of it ending – and for the first time that I can remember after a review – I went online and bought tickets to experience it all over again on the next evening!
¡Viva! is not new to London since it had opened the Flamenco Festival at Sadler’s Wells in July 2022, and it has returned fresher than ever following a recent tour of China. The ending of both performances that I witnessed brought the whole audience to their feet in an ecstatic outpouring of acclamation than was totally deserved. It is the most joyful and uplifting example of dance as pure entertainment. An hour and forty minutes without an interval seemed to pass so quickly.
It is flamenco but not as we know it! ¡Viva! is a highly personal show that has been a lifetime in the making. Now a very youthful 44, Manuel Liñán is one of this generation’s major flamenco stars. I have powerful memories of seeing him perform as a virtuoso bailaor in the intimate tablao surroundings of Madrid’s Coral de la Morería, a decade or so ago, expressing all the dynamic, aggressive, bull-fighting machismo of the male flamenco dancer (his father, Manuel Arroyo, was a bullfighter and hoped that young Manuel would follow him into the ring).
However, his mother had other ideas and he became a prodigious dance talent at a young age, training under the legendary Manolete. Although absorbing the fine art of the bailaor, young Manuel grew up secretly practising the art of a bailaora in the privacy of his bedroom, dressing in his mother’s clothes. A successful career as a dancer, director, and choreographer, over almost 30 years, has enabled Liñán to bend flamenco’s traditional aesthetics by gradually introducing sequences in his shows where he danced as if a woman, showing exceptional skills with the mantón (the heavy fringed shawl) and wearing colourful bata de cola (flamenco dresses with long, frilly, trains).
Liñán’s hopes and desires of 30 years ago are poignantly reflected in ¡Viva!’s closing moments when having danced in a yellow, polka-dotted bata de cola, and now stripped to underwear, he lovingly draped the dress around his shoulders, the arms tied around his neck as if the colourful garment was now a cape. Having unpinned his wig with its long, thick plait, Liñán lay down at the apex of a strong burst of diagonal light, gently cradling the hairpiece as if it were a baby, and by holding it against his face, he exposed the intimacy of those childhood dreams for all to see. It was incredibly powerful stuff!
Although ¡Viva! is the ultimate in Liñán’s ambition of making and performing a show dedicated to flamenco drag it is not just about him, since he is joined by ten other men: five superb musicians and another five cross-dressing as bailaoras for the whole show, or at least until a poignant epilogue where they stand in a line at the front of the stage, having discarded their dresses, removing wigs (although Jonatán Miro's thick mane of dark hair means he doesn't need one) and wiping away the make-up.
The five musicians are led by the exceptional cantaores, David Carpio and Antonio Campos, and include excellent contributions from the traditional flamenco guitar (Francisco Vinuesa) and percussion (Kike Terrón) but also considerably enhanced by the less usual engagement of a superb violinist (Victor Pitarch Pronk, known as “Guadiana”). The mutuality of flamenco skills is well evidenced in the slender, willowy presence of Miguel Ángel Heredia as one of the drag bailaoras. He is better known as a cantaor and acted as a multidisciplinary narrator through the show, in song, dance and often leading the palmas (handclapping rhythms).
There is an obvious comparison to be made with Les Ballets Trockadero de Monte Carlo, the all-male drag ballet ensemble, which has toured the world for many years. Like the Trocs, these male dancers aren’t merely parodying bailaoras, they dance as if they are women, but merging the exceptional skills of both male and female performers. Their capability to manipulate both mantón and bata de cola (often simultaneously) is mixed with virtuoso zapateado (footwork). There is – again, in common with the Trocs – plenty of humour but these comedic moments simply punctuate a work that is an intensely serious exposition of flamenco.
Memorable highlights in this consistently absorbing show were a hilarious competitive parody of a street battle in which Daniel Ramos and Yoel Vargas attempted to outdo each other with their virtuoso balletic skills, including flashing fouettés and multiple pirouettes and Miro’s coruscating explosion of powerful flamenco puro.
As the headline star, Liñán leads the way with a trio of solos, each showcasing his magnificent command of zapateado and opening with a back-to-audience performance that exemplified the silky-smooth fluidity of his hands, wrists and arms. Everything he does is delivered with intense expressiveness, exemplifying this highly personal odyssey that has changed the face of flamenco.
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