Manuelita cropArtistically speaking you could say Manuelita is the love child of Evita and Che. Manuela Saenz is widely known as the lover of, Simon Bolivar, liberator of Venezuela, Colombia, Peru, Ecuador and after whom Bolivia is named. But that is the point of the story: as is so often the case in history the significance of actors on the world stage is suppressed by those who come after, particularly if they are political antagonists. So it is with Saenz whose place in history has been dictated by the enemies of Bolivar, the winners of the in-fighting that followed the liberation of those countries from Spain. Manuelita sets the record straight.

Saenz’s is a ‘Girls Own’ story of the most breathless and exciting sort. Far from being someone dismissed as being merely a bit of skirt for Bolivar to come home to, she was a political activist, spy and combatant who rose through the military ranks to become a colonel in the army of liberation – a true heroine of the revolution.

Tamsin Clarke plays the role with wit, charm, energy and intensity. Cameleon-like she switches from voluptuous, smoky seductress to impassioned revolutionary with ne’re a slip. It’s not every actress who can go from vein bulging anger to silky charm in one breath and take you with her. Her first meeting and dance with Bolivar (she dances with herself) is deft, clever and funny, displaying some of the fruits of her Lecoq training. In this her talent is not squandered in unnecessary display but used as a painter might use a highlight or a writer an apposite word to bring a sentence alive. Mime fills in the gaps where words are inappropriate and her physicality drains the stage of empty space, where her smile lights it up.

No writer is credited so I assume the play was devised by Clarke and director, Scarlett Plouviez Comnas. It’s a neat distillation of a remarkable life, which leaves you with impression that you have made a wonderful discovery. The form moves easily from monologue to soliloquy to whatever acting with yourself is called that isn’t a kind of madness. Clarke also knows how to flirt with an audience and comfortably dipped in and out of the fourth wall to everyone’s amusement.

No small contribution is made by the on-stage soundtrack of guitarist, Camilo Menjura, whose bravura playing washes each scene with Latin colour and mood. For a one act show this is just about as complete an experience as it gets and a piece of feminist historical retrieval that shines a welcome light on a neglected character.   ★★★★☆   Graham Wyles   14/05/15