Review: Flamenc Oh!! at the Peacock Theatre – more “Oh!!” than flamenco

Back in February, I reviewed Yllana Productions’ The Opera Locos at Sadler’s Wells and although I had attended a show that sought farcical amusement from opera with some scepticism, I was well and truly won over by the end (not least because the singers were excellent).

Yllana has been on the road for 35 years, producing 42 separate shows in that time, and the latest to hit London is Flamenc Oh!!, an attempt to do for flamenco what that earlier show had achieved for opera. But, unfortunately, not with the same result: this was certainly more “Oh!!” than flamenco.

The narrative premise was straightforward, concerning a family steeped in flamenco tradition, such that can be found in any Andalusian tablao, dominated by a patriarchal singer (David Bastidas) and his castanet-playing, dancer wife (Raquel Ortega). The familial symbol of their flamenco legacy was a white cane, passed down through the generations from father to son. The problem was that, in this case, the son (Raúl Ortega) – although an accomplished dancer – lacked the machismo of the flamenco male and was continually at the wrong end of his father’s ire: the daughter (Anabel Moreno) was, on the other hand, a feisty and sensual dancer, much more suited to the artistic inheritance. That is, until the arrival of a distant relative (Luis Gallo) who joined the family’s ensemble as a guitarist. This was the cue to enact the age-old rivalry between flamenco puro (the determination to keep the traditions unadulterated) and the modernisation of flamenco nuevo.

Along with his flailing long hair, Gallo was a flamenco guitarist inclined to switch to other sounds, including Purple Rain, Only You and Summertime, to name but a few. The daughter was easily seduced, improvising her dancing to the new music, that is, until the arrival of the irate father, but even he gradually becomes enchanted by the new ways.

The work opens with the neat touch of the cane-wielding, hat-wearing father entering from the back of the stalls, singing and swinging his cane on a slow march to the stage, halting to make prolonged eye contact with a female in the audience. This was the beginning of a long-running leitmotif throughout the show, as father, mother, and guitarist frequently flirted with audience members, the mother’s seductive actions routinely causing a jealous reaction from her macho husband. Part of the show’s problem was that most visual comedy was not left to be enjoyed once: one of the better gags was the mysterious guitarist’s heavy footsteps continuing, like the invisible man, after he had stood still. It was funny the first time but not on repeat.

Another regular irritant was non-verbal guttural expressions, especially by Raúl Ortega as the son, and a kind of farcical, macho expression of power by the father, knees bent and arms swinging low like a great ape; and the unaccountable screaming of a group of young people at the front of the stalls. Both Bastidas and Raquel Ortega encouraged further audience participation by asking us to repeat sung phrases and then setting one half of the audience against the other.

The flamenco artists were all very competent in short bursts, but in each case their contributions were too brief to make much of an assessment. In her seductive red dress, Moreno was a smouldering, sexy bailaora in the best traditions of flamenco. Bastidas had a strong voice, but it was rarely put to the test; Raquel Ortega gave an excellent cameo as a flamenco diva, showing special skill with the castanets; Raúl Ortega (any relation?) was suitably expressive as the nervous son; and Gallo exuded machismo from every pore although his guitar playing was of variable quality, particularly when transitioning to the pop music.

The extremities of modernising flamenco were not just in diversifying the music but in essaying the recent proliferation of cross-gender skills. The two men performed with the mantón (the long-tasselled shawls that are part of the bailaora’s trade), and the father looked longingly at a bata de cola (an elaborate dress with a long frilly train) on a mannequin before dressing in it, although missing the opportunity to dance in it, a skill developed to the max by Manuel Liñan over a long career and exemplified by six dancers in flamenco drag in his hit show, Viva!   

Flamenc Oh!! takes a simple narrative idea of modernisation versus tradition and runs with it in several directions. It has some stellar moments, but others are frankly cringeworthy. The best of it, as in so many flamenco shows, came in two long postscripts, after the original curtain call, where the audience was encouraged to video and get on their feet to bop along, which they did with enthusiasm. Flamenc Oh!! would be a fun night for a hen party or an office get-together, if they still happen in these post-Covid times, but it really wasn’t for me.