Tag Archives: Voila! Theatre Festival 2025

COPLA: A SPANISH CABARET

★★½

Theatro Technis

COPLA: A SPANISH CABARET

Theatro Technis

★★½

“rich in ideas, but its academic form and uneven execution keep it from fully landing”

‘Copla: a Spanish Cabaret’ is a one person love letter to copla music’s chequered history. Originally a subversive genre associated with marginalised Spanish communities, copla was co opted as Francoist propaganda before being reclaimed by drag and progressive artists from the 1980s onwards. After runs at the Edinburgh Fringe and The Other Palace, this show returns for Voila Festival as a celebration of music, culture, queerness, and survival. However, it feels lost in translation, weighed down by a stilted structure, overuse of video, and muddy microphones.

‘Copla: a Spanish Cabaret’ traces the genre’s history through writer and performer Alejandro Postigo’s life, blending autobiography with themes of translation, nationalism, drag artistry, and the lasting impact of Franco’s dictatorship on Spain’s LGBTQIA+ community. It’s a heartfelt ode to copla, queerness and feeling in between.

Postigo’s inventive script blends music, dialogue and video, confronting controversial issues head on with fearlessness and sharp humour – the hilarious game of ‘Who Wants To Be A Fascist Censorship Officer’ is a particular highlight and showcases Postigo’s crowd working flair. Copla songs are helpfully translated once they’ve been sung in Spanish, making them accessible while preserving their beauty. Video clips skilfully elaborate some points, most movingly Postigo’s 101-year-old grandmother’s ongoing struggle to discuss queerness.

However, the unusual style veers into lecture territory. The show opens with slightly forced audience participation, feeling more TED talk than theatre, though Postigo quickly recovers the energy with rhythmic clapping which moves seamlessly into the first song. At times the show slips into list making, with Postigo’s credentials and exhaustive ‘My Man’ catalogue diverting attention from deeper exploration of copla’s cultural significance. While ‘Copla’ succeeds in introducing the genre to new audiences, musical renditions feel steeped in historical accuracy, missing chances to show more of copla’s evolution and modern relevance. Overall, the core idea is compelling but the delivery feels weighed down by scholarly exactness.

Sergio Maggiolo’s direction features slick use of technology, with video clips whizzing seamlessly between scenes. There are clever mid-scene costume changes which maintain energy and pace. Postigo commands the room with ease, mingling effortlessly with the audience. However, the relatively large space makes an intimate cabaret more challenging, with the central projector forcing performers to extreme sides.

Costumes hung like a diva’s dressing room and cabaret tables for the front row suggest intimacy, though much of it dissipates in this venue’s larger space. The lighting design effectively captures the mood, shifting from gameshow flashes to dramatic spots to tender low light. Ricardo Ferreira’s video design is slick and seamless, though its frequent switches to other speakers and singers dilutes Postigo’s voice, and again feels more TED talk than stagecraft. The sound design needs urgent attention, making Postigo sound distant while amplifying breaths, distracting from the beautiful copla songs.

Postigo’s infectious energy, great comic timing and effortless charm hold attention throughout. Unfortunately, poor sound balance makes it hard to judge the singing quality. Postigo sings with musical accompaniment from Violeta Valladares on violin and Jack Elsdon on piano, forming a capable trio infused with Spanish soul. Valladares’ vocal duet adds variety, though her breathier delivery sits unevenly beside Postigo’s power and commitment.

Ultimately, ‘Copla: a Spanish Cabaret’ is bold in spirit and rich in ideas, but its academic form and uneven execution keep it from fully landing.



COPLA: A SPANISH CABARET

Theatro Technis

Reviewed on 21st November 2025

by Hannah Bothelton


 

 

 

 

COPLA

COPLA

COPLA

HATER

★★★★

The Space

HATER

The Space

★★★★

“an inventive, emotionally incisive, and culturally sharp piece”

Though not a new work, Hater makes an impressive appearance at this year’s Voila Festival. It opens with a deceptively gentle touch: a baby bunny puppet, soft and endearing, leads us into the story. But the sweetness quickly fractures, revealing far heavier terrain—C-PTSD, immigration, family trauma, fractured relationships, and the relentless pressures of survival. This sharp tonal shift immediately signals the ambition of Gawa Leung’s writing: a play about the invisible weight of immigrant life.

Rather than relying on grand statements, Hater builds its world through precise, almost documentary-like details of diasporic existence: the symbolic economics of a Tesco meal deal, the bureaucratic nightmare of visa systems, the absurd burden of performing a sexualized linguistic identity. These accumulated minutiae echo the sociological concept of “microaggressions”—small daily wounds that, as the play argues, eventually crystallize into the profound weariness that breeds a “hater.”

A brilliant structural device underpins the show: the four-part Bunny narrative, which functions both metaphorically and theoretically. The bunny, a creature perpetually out of place, becomes a precise mirror for the immigrant navigating a world never designed for her.

Gawa Leung and Lorraine Yu deliver the Bunny allegory with superb precision and emotional intelligence, guiding it through a four-part evolution without ever announcing its structure. A highlight arrives when Lorraine delivers “Mummy’s” Cantonese and Gawa translates live onstage. It’s not just bilingual performance—it becomes a vivid expression of the diasporic condition, where translation itself exposes both intimacy and cultural distance. As the bunny tries to “fit into a SeaLife,” Gawa and Lorraine shift effortlessly between humour and desperation, making assimilation feel almost physically suffocating. Under Tess Adèle Glinert’s direction, the piece moves with humour and sharp insight, rendering the immigrant world both painfully real and disarmingly funny.

The play’s central question—Where does the hater come from? —finds its answer not in grand passions but in a thousand tiny cuts. A hater is forged in the crucible of economic pressure, emotional isolation, familial misalignment, and the exhausting navigation of systems built for others. The meta-theatrical motif of “stalking another East Asian woman” is particularly sharp—not born of love or jealousy, but of a desperate immigrant self-interrogation: How did she make it? What is her secret to survival?

Hater is full of surprises, though two elements hold it back from complete polish. One is narrative clarity, that the allegorical Bunny structure is beautifully crafted, but the real-world narrative becomes scattered across too many thematic threads. Another is theatrical transitions: with such dialogue-heavy material, the production would benefit from more dynamic physical staging, bolder scene shifts, and more strategic lighting to maintain rhythm and visual engagement.

Overall, Hater is an inventive, emotionally incisive, and culturally sharp piece—rare in its ability to blend humour, trauma, and immigrant politics with daring imagination. Its potential is enormous, and with clearer dramaturgy and stronger theatrical transitions, it could solidify its place as an essential work of the diaspora canon.



HATER

The Space

Reviewed on 16th November 2925

by Portia Yuran Li


 

Previously reviewed at this venue:

WOMEN OVER 30 DON’T MATTER | ★★★★ | November 2025
AN INTERVENTION | ★★★½ | August 2025
A KISS FOR CINDERELLA | ★★★ | December 2024
ONE MAN POE | ★★★ | October 2021

 

 

HATER

HATER

HATER