Copla: A Spanish Cabaret, The Other Palace Theatre Review
Alejandro Postigo in Copla: A Spanish Cabaret. Photo by Jake Bush
Written by Paris for Theatre and Tonic
Disclaimer: Gifted tickets in exchange for an honest review
Every time I watch a show, regardless of its subject or form, I try to find the one word that best captures its essence. Not out of laziness or a desire to impress with some clever gimmick, but to understand, first and foremost, what I feel about it and what makes it stand out. This process becomes even harder when I’ve loved something deeply. So, what do I believe about Copla: A Spanish Cabaret, which I had the privilege of watching last night at The Other Palace Theatre? I believe it was inevitable.
Alejandro Postigo, both the writer and performer of the show, takes us on an extraordinary journey through Spain's history, weaving together music, politics, and personal identity. Postigo delivers a masterful performance in just over an hour, seamlessly transitioning between singer, storyteller, and guide. Under the direction of Sergio Maggiolo, the production illuminates the rich, bittersweet legacy of Copla music and its role in resisting the conservative values of Franco's dictatorship and the Catholic Church. The show highlights Copla’s deep connection to the LGBTQ+ community, showing how it became a lifeline and a tool for empowerment, demanding visibility and dignity.
This is an unapologetically political show. It does not dilute its message to just please. Instead, it wears its convictions proudly, tackling themes of resistance, identity, and belonging with unflinching honesty and humour. Copla: A Spanish Cabaret is not just one thing; it is a history lesson, a cabaret, a drag show, live music, theatre, stand-up, documentary, and a queer man’s monologue all at once. Remarkably, it excels in each aspect, leaving little room for criticism. Yet the show never becomes a lament; above all, it celebrates resilience and beauty. Postigo radiates love and care throughout the performance, making the audience feel their journey, struggles, and triumphs. They are not alone in this but are supported by a highly talented team.
Jack Elsdon, on piano, welcomed the audience into this meticulously designed venue and accompanied Postigo’s performance with great skill. He even served as an English translator for the lyrics and provided unexpected comic relief. Meanwhile, Violeta Valladares, with her incredible violin artistry and ethereal supporting vocals, added depth to Postigo’s singing. In one of the most poignant moments, Valladares, wearing a Spanish CNT-FAI malita cap—a subtle yet powerful statement full of historical weight—helped Postigo transform into their queer alter ego. Her deeply moving performance elevated her to one of the show’s most unexpected yet memorable stars.
One of the most touching aspects of the show is how Postigo opens up about the things that shaped them—their love for divas, their early expressions of queerness, and their deep connection to copla in a country still burdened by the lingering shadow of Franco’s conservative regime. Despite 20 years of legalized gay marriage in Spain, Postigo shares how they feel they can never truly be themselves there. Living in the UK, they long for their homeland but knows it holds conflict and rejection as much as it holds familiarity and love.
Coming from a Mediterranean background myself, I resonated deeply with their honesty and their sense of being caught "in between." As migrants striving for acceptance and a better life, we often feel alienated in our adopted countries, while our homelands remain sources of both pain and nostalgia. The documentary footage of Postigo’s grandmother moved me to tears—I felt her strength, her story, and her love without ever having met her. Through Postigo’s storytelling, I could feel the weight of Spain’s political history, the scars of its civil war, and the enduring pain left by fascism. I am not Spanish, nor did I grow up with copla or queer performers as inspirations. But by the end of the show, I felt I had lived these experiences through Postigo’s storytelling. This is what makes it an extraordinary piece of art—it transcends its specifics to connect with anyone who has ever felt displaced, unheard, or yearning for a sense of home.
Sure, there are minor quibbles, like some pacing issues and a slightly prolonged video segment where Postigo applies makeup while a performer discusses copla’s history. And perhaps the title could better prepare audiences for the show’s depth and range—it is far more than just an exotic cabaret evening. But these are insignificant in the face of a show so profound and meaningful.
You could call this show “breathtaking,” “genius,” “masterful,” “a triumph,” or “hilarious yet moving.” All those words apply and could easily serve as punchlines or promotional tags. But for me, the most important realization is that some art doesn’t ask for permission or approval. Among countless productions where you can sense the calculated processes and marketing strategies behind their creation, Copla: A Spanish Cabaret simply is—because there was no other way.
It is a living, breathing reminder of the unstoppable force that is great theatre. This show demanded to be born, shaped by Postigo’s childhood passions, struggles, and studies. It reminds us that true art, like change, is meant to happen. Just as Postigo is unapologetically themselves and could never help but be, even if the whole world were against them. They could not avoid creating this show because to do so would have been to deny themselves, leaving them untrue and incomplete.
That’s why I believe the true power of Copla: A Spanish Cabaret lies in this: it was inevitable.
At The Other Palace Theatre until 26 January 2025
★★★★★
