I have not seen the one dedicated to that La Sexta broadcasts tonight, so this is not a review or a value judgment, nor even a recommendation. At best, it is a suspicion, a concern. In times of memes and reelsfrom the Gonzo show, is going to take the radish by the leaves. It doesn’t matter how hard they try to fine-tune the portrait. In the end, only noise will come out, because Víctor speaks like the countrymen of Mieres. Like a good poet, he is unaware of euphemism and periphrasis. They have already filled the program with phrases about Pedro Sánchez and some political figures. For example, he compares Abascal with Blas Piñar, in an analogy that is not too surprising, but which has produced a few clicks and fights on the networks.
It’s a shame that the noise drowns out Victor’s silences. If his words sound categorical, it is because he cultivates silences that television cannot afford. Víctor Manuel is unspeakable on TV: to show his way of being in the world, a Bergman-style film would be needed, long and with very static and minimalist shots. The amphetamine vacui horror of today’s television and social media does little justice to his ironic smile, his snide and underground humor, and his inexhaustible ability to listen. When Víctor talks to someone, he attends to them with his whole body. The interlocutor feels that there is nothing more important than what he says. While listening, the singer creates a reply that is timely because it responds to what the other has said. He never brings the well-thought-out phrases from home, like the talk shows. In a world of monologues, he talks, but on Instagram there is only room for preachers. After the issuance of Saved Remnants of a kind of sermon will float across the phone screens. And as a priest, Víctor only has the pose, with his black shirt and his way of taking over the stage.
If someone were to pick up Víctor Manuel’s modulations of silence, instead of putting his words in quotation marks, we could try a change of tone that would do us a lot of good. It would be nice if the political debate looked more like a long after-dinner conversation with him, and less like a fight between deputies. In the absence of silence, I hope one of the mottos that he has always raised will resonate more strongly: we all fit in here or not even God fits in. That would be enough.
