Review: Manuel Liñán’s ¡VIVA! – “powerful stuff to witness – overwhelming even”

Where to even start with ¡VIVA! by Manuel Liñán… what I will say is be prepared to be surprised and then overwhelmed by the show’s content and power.

Liñán is a name in Flamenco circles, and ¡VIVA! was part of the Flamenco Festival in 2022. What’s intriguing about the show is that it’s what you’d expect, but in an unexpected way.

Most Flamenco performances follow a similar pattern – less fixed narrative, and more ringside seat into the inherent, intimate culture of Spain and its people through dance, song, music and prose.

And ¡VIVA! does all of the above, and some, but it also leaves convention at the door. Spoiler alert – the six female dancers are actually men in drag.

At the start of the show, I simply read what I saw without any context – a tinsel backdrop and costumes and wigs that don’t scream money. But by the end, this initial knee-jerk reaction couldn’t be more different from how I felt when I left.

Why? Because of talent and authenticity. Whenever I see Flamenco, I’m bowled over by Spanish culture. Sure, I like Morris dancing, but Flamenco is at a completely different level – the passion, rhythm, intensity etc. It seems everyone in Spain has these gifts and a compulsion to express them. And I’m talking everyone, not just polished professionals. But in fact, that’s the bigger point – a Flamenco professional is recognised because of their internal talent, not the external package. And this is rarely the case in dance, as aesthetics still make a habit of getting in the way of capability and progression.

The show offers numerous interludes over the 100-ish minutes, and live music that acts as the catalyst for everything that unfolds. The level of musical skill is off the scale, as is the authenticity that underpins it.

The dancers are dancers, but also innately gifted comedians, and most keenly in the understanding of balance. Most numbers are played seriously, yet the cast manage to push the boundaries of mannerisms to the absolute maximum without crossing over into the realm of pastiche. Consequently, what we see is genuine expression through dance with internal notions of identity communicated through movement and apparel. These men will have grown up surrounded by the women they are portraying. Beautiful, feisty unfathomable creatures. But portray is the wrong word as the cast aren’t play acting but offering an intimate snapshot into a true part of their being. And that’s powerful stuff to witness. Overwhelming even.

All of the dance is extremely worthwhile, and often finds itself physically framed by the cast on moveable benches and chairs. Each vignette takes place in a sense of community, where colleagues either observe with focused intensity or cajole through infectious percussion, song and interjections of “guapa!”

Any dancer looking for some Don Quixote inspiration needs to go along to witness the diva showdown duo. Two of the dancers change into soft shoes, grab their castanets and let some steam off in a properly funny ‘bet you can’t do this’ tit for tat, and I kept thinking “this is exactly what’s missing from over-rehearsed, sterile Act 3s of Don Q I’ve seen over the years” – less perfection more punch. Spain in a bottle.

Someone I know recently referred to drag as a form of blackface in relation to women. And in 2024 it’s impossible for most things not to offend particular groups in certain ways. I can only offer my reading of the work, and what I saw wasn’t about appropriation, but rather identity and a need to express it in a myriad of ways.

The finale sees the cast bare their souls in relation to clothing, and it wasn’t the first time I contemplated the irrelevance of gender or sex in relation to Flamenco, or many things for that matter. However, it seems immaterial what people might think, either side of the fence, as when individuals are given the (safe) space to express their innermost identity, we’re best placed to sit down, shut up and observe. As this is where the truest of work shows itself. I can’t recommend this experience enough. It has to be seen.

Matthew Paluch Guest Author

Matthew Paluch was awarded a place at The Royal Ballet School in 1990 where he graduated in 1997. His first four years as a professional dancer were spent working with London City Ballet, Scottish Ballet, K-Ballet and English National Ballet, becoming a full-time member of ENB until leaving in 2006.

Matthew graduated from the Royal Academy of Dance, Professional Dancers’ Teaching Diploma in 2007, and was formerly on faculty at The Royal Ballet School. He completed his Masters in Ballet Studies at Roehampton University in 2011, has been a freelance writer since 2010 and currently works in the Law Sector.

He is a member of the Dance Section of The Critics’ Circle.