I almost didn't make Manuel Liñán’s ¡VIVA!. I’m so glad I did, the second night, not press night, and the theatre is buzzing. I can’t remember the last time I heard such cheers and applause. With flamenco, often there can be a very vocal audience—one always hopes there is—but tonight’s surpasses any I’ve sat amongst. Seen last year in London at the Gala Flamenca, Liñán obviously has a fan club across age and gender.
The set is nothing to speak of, just some glitter curtains and a few benches, moved constantly to rearrange the stage space. Lighting by Gloria Montesinos provides the drama and mystery, spotlights and shadows. The male dancers, sensual and sexual, in their vivid dresses are the setting. Bodies as beat boxes: it’s quite a gig.
There may be some comic balletic pas de deux, rivalry between two dancers in soft shoes—they even tackle fouettés—and a touch of music hall (I’m thinking Ashton’s Widow Simone), but the almost two-hour straight through show is not a pastiche or a parody à la Trocks, but a display (at times raunchy) of true flamenco alegrías, tárantos and bulerías, palmas. You don't need to know the terminology to enjoy the fantastic beat of the feet to complex rhythms.
There is joy in watching Manuel Liñán and his five companions (Manuel Betanzos, Jonatán Miro, Miguel Heredia, Daniel Ramos and Yoel Vargas) in frocks, make-up and wigs play with and transcend gender. They are obviously men dancing female roles—their energy is male, but their love for the art form is delicately female.
Traditional flamenco in transgender and gender-free form is quite a statement. The men come on towards the end in flesh-coloured trousers and busty bras, wigs still on, neither one sex nor the other. Slowly, they wipe the make-up off, take their wigs off, except for Jonatán Miro, who releases his own long hair, and steps forward—this is who we are, we are not hiding or pretending. I like them better without the theatrical wigs. Is there a middle way?
Liñán is overwhelmed by the appreciation crossing the footlights. He is almost weeping. He has made his statement with vigour, talent and blazing dancing: not just feet, but graceful arms, expressive hands and supple body.
Percussive feet need percussive music, and the black-suited musicians are outstanding, especially Victor Pitarch Pronk “Guadiana” on violin. Francisco Vinuesa on guitar, Kike Terrón on percussion and the two singers David Carpio and Antonio Campos get my feet tapping and my hands itching to join in with the palmas. They get their turn in the spotlight, not just as motivators of the dance.
But it's a community, and the tall dancer Miguel Ángel Heredia sings an epic song as well as dances. Do I hear Lorca? If you don't know Spanish, the body and feet express the inherent meaning, rising above language as well as gender.
Liñán is the star of the show and has the most solos`—demonstrating his versatility in ingenious ways—and his acting skills—but I am also dazzled by Miro, dramatic, passionate, full volume, so to speak, hair unravelling as he dances.
There are changes of costume, but it's the final traditional bata de cola long-trained dress in polka dot that signals we are near the end, the finale. It is the bata de cola Liñán caresses when it is off his body. He also cradles his wig like a baby. When he was a child, he dreamed of wearing these dresses. Now his dream has come true. He has won many dance awards and accolades for his performances.
Is flamenco changing—Sara Baras’s last show at Sadler’s Wells, Alma, has women cross-dressing, and Rocío Molina, openly gay, is a law unto herself—or have these gender-fluid performers been hiding in plain sight?
¡VIVA! may be a flamenco drag show, but look beyond it is what Liñán seems to be saying. Enjoy it. And we do. Most of us go out of the theatre dancing. What a gift! So viva Liñán and his company: he is celebrating flamenco and his place in it. It is his emotional truth.