MANUEL LIÑÁN, BAILAOR FLAMENCO. PREMIÈRE OF ‘1980’

Free... and with a bata de cola skirt

Silvia Calado Olivo. Madrid, 16th August 2006

‘1980’. Manuel Liñán: baile and choreography. Arcadio Marín, Fernando de la Rúa: music and guitars. La Popi, La Tacha: palmas. Leo Triviño, El Picúo: cante. ‘La otra mirada del flamenco’ season. Teatro Pradillo. Madrid, 16th August 2006. 9pm

Manuel Liñan on 'Mi Soledad' (Photo: Daniel Muñoz)

Laboratory of contemporary flamenco dance. This could be the alternative name of Teatro Pradillo's ‘La otra mirada del flamenco’ season in Madrid. Between 2nd August and 2nd September 2006, this edition offers another window on new directions by the new creative talent behind flamenco dance at the alternative theater. And from among the artists summoned this year, our attention was drawn by Granada-born Manuel Liñán's project ‘1980’.

In his new solo production, the bailaor draws on the sensations of childhood, “a time,” he writes, “when there were unjustified rules to follow.” And the fact is that these artists demand freedom. They show mastery of technique, they respect the general principles, but they bring to the stage their own, unconstrained visions of flamenco. And that's how a rogue stop-start alegrías came to rub shoulders in this production with a male solo por soleá in a full-length bata de cola flamenco skirt. And the fact is that Liñán gives flamenco a shake-down in terms of both style and content. He can be contemporary or traditional, but first and foremost he keeps it simple, shunning all that is the superfluous.

Right from the start of the show, he gave a taste of his individuality. Footlights turned directly toward the audience. Five of the six members of the group are scattered asymmetrically around the stage. Among the silhouettes, the sixth is that of the bailaor. A seguiriya is playing. And so are the feet of the bailaor. Sketching out ideas. Shifting patterns. “The voice that my throat was never able to create” is that of his body. And he begins to move it from the waist up, drawing circles in the air with a bullfighter's cape. Just as a bailaora uses her shawl. The guitar of Arcadio Marín rings out, as the bailaor plays out the imaginary bullfight. The piece is intense, deliberate. Fade to black, and it's straight on with the next.

A vocalist performs malagueñas, accompanied on guitar. And soon the handclaps of the palmeros join in and the alegrías begin. Those rogue stop-start alegrías mentioned before, with a vintage approach, bold due to the exercise of restraint, to the stillness, to taking steps or rounding off a phrase with a turn of the head. The spotlights on the audience. Granada all the way. Lights and... action. Manuel Liñán, dressed as a kind of puppet in red and black shorts. It's time for some fun with an oddball zapateado accompanied by the ‘musical score’ of palmas and jaleos supremely performed by La Popi and La Tacha. A true lesson in how you can make music with just a few handclaps in flamenco. Something to say. A soothing, melodic solo by guitarist Fernando de la Rúa takes us to the closing number, the most striking. And Manuel Liñán comes out once again dressed in a bata de cola. Just as he did before under the orders of Rafaela Carrasco in ‘Una mirada del flamenco’, he once again dons this garment, till now considered feminine. The dance, though, is that of a man. With bare torso and a plain black skirt of thick velvet, no flounces, no ruffles. He handles the skirt in flawless fashion, with a firm grasp that allows him to fly, draw spirals and play. And his boldness was warmly welcomed, as the modest hall offered him a lengthy ovation.

magazine@flamenco-world.com