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Celine Delahaye as the Housekeeper, La Poncia, and Holly Page as the doomed Adela Pictures: Lucy Barriball The House of Bernarda Alba Playbox Theatre The Dream Factory, Warwick ***** Ninety minutes of pure magic and unceasing dramatic talent. It was typical of the Playbox Theatre - it exists for that very purpose - to present a production of such vivid imagination, such daring, such inventiveness, indeed such perfection as their latest effort: a production by Mary King, its Founding and Executive Director - of Federico Garcia Lorca's final masterpiece, The House of Bernarda Alba. This high praise is easy to explain. Lorca's play is by no means easy to pull off. It requires especially careful pacing, a strong sense of how to manage the intermittent dramatic explosions, an ability to maintain interest through a series of relatively becalmed exchanges. The play demands subtlety, refinement, unceasing intensity, and a remarkable amount of strong nerves from those performing it. And the most impressive thing about this production was that it was performed entirely by immensely gifted and talented girls. So well directed that every pinpoint detail came across. Thence no patronising needed. The way the cast interacted with each other, the tangle of markedly individual identities, the distinctive characterisation of each of the daughters (and the maids as well, one of whom - the superb Celine Delahaye - has the courage to stand up to Bernarda in a way none of her children dares - till the end). Moving from sedate to oppressed, from serene to mentally battered, Señora Alba bullies her half dozen daughters in a way that can only recall the Spain of old - the dictatorial family tradition that long predated the coup of General Franco, and then in too many houses survived it. A Spain Lorca knew. Yet as we see them maltreated and tormented in a way that never invites the term love, we come to feel for each one of these suffering offspring; they become our sisters, we yearn to protect them, although they by turns, albeit tentatively, devise uncertain ways of defending themselves. And all this the King production - in fact a masterpiece - received. Central to the plot, though not always to the action - she hovers in the background, malignly fielding her outdated values not actually realising so, is the figure of Bernarda Alba herself. Everything hinges, of course, on this dreaded materfamilias - Bernarda. It requires a striking talent for a teenager, or near-teenager, to present this unforgivably stiff, witch-like character, this harridan of a 60 year old, onstage. Elysia Sullly, strutting across the stage among them with constant stick, fixed scowl and jutting jaw, never for a moment disappointed. This was a performance as sophisticated as any adult actor. She dominates, very occasionally cajoles, often thunders at her offspring, demands unnecessary proprieties, criticises, overbears, intimidates, glowers.
Elysia Sully as the appalling Bernarda Alba The fact this mother - unrelenting, almost savage - can make her daughters cower is all the more bewildering given they are all in their twenties or thirties. In fact her family is - thank goodness - about to fall apart. They begin to find their feet. But she - "I'll never let anyone lecture me"; and she doesn't - is a tyrant, or put differently, a real cow. Nasty; vicious. When Sully is onstage, she monopolises it. ish Shabbat. Leading in prayer, she harshly overawes. "That's, what it means to be a woman," "you hold your tongue". She's a dreadful person, , "It comes from me not holding you on a shorter leash" (rubbish), "find me as hard as flint" whose awfulness she captures on every appearance. Chilly, astringent, unyielding, stiffly upright. What an old cow she creates. A treat to watch every time. The daughters in their different ways worked wonders with their effective, contrasting characterisations. Mery Sutherland as the doddery grandmother, Maria Josefa - tender, well-meaning, and if Bernarda's mother, the very opposite to this kind of strict, overpowering mother, chanting her hushed folk ditty (very movingly), and dotty enough in her dotage to declare her own (bizarre) intention to marry again, yet has guts: she strongly opposes Bernarda's violent oppression, and - although of course vainly - demands freedom for the imprisoned girls. Laura Hearl's Magdalena - classy acting - is the one alone managing to survive by seeing the funny side, and although put-upon, refuses to be entirely cowed, hers overall a performance very attractively and joyously varied. Millie Taylor's assured Amelia torn between incipient standing up for herself - and them - and submission. Angustias (Phoebe Roberts), the eldest one (39), poised to escape but not actually achieving it, eye-catching on every entry. A disturbing mixture: horrifically assailed by her mother, yet also capable of dishing it out herself. All the more striking when veiled and robed. Her red hair added fire. Her shifting moods added power. This was acting of superb, exciting quality. Was there ever a weak moment? No way. Even at the start, the floor-cleaning servant-girl (Veronika Wass), by creating a vivid and knowing personality, sets the show dramatically on it way, the issue of cash - the major focus of the play (stemming from Bernarda's first husband) - already remarked upon. Her opposite number is Celine Delahaye, the assertive housekeeper, an immensely strong, striking, stirring, flamboyantly commanding performance. So strong-willed is she, you might think she herself had aspirations to be a donna, the controlling head of a family; although rather, from the strength of her helpful underhand advice to the individual girls, supportive, guiding, a wise head. It's conspicuous that she alone is allowed to address her grim mistress as "Bernarda". A remarkable performance, really accomplished in every way. Two important roles struck me, as they should, impressively. Firstly, Holly Page as Adela (20) - the youngest of the family, who comes right to the fore later on. She goes from being submissive to headstrong, her earliest rebellion featuring her abandoning the obligatory family dour black attire (Bernarda has stipulated they must remain in mourning for their father, her second husband, for an unbelievable eight years).
Eve Hatz as Martirio and Laura Hoerl as Magdalena Against the odds, Adela has had a dalliance with Angustias's intended husband, Pepe - content, to her mother's angry chagrin - "to be his mistress". Page, rightly, makes Adela, being the youngest virtually representing a new generation, boldly infuriated, but anguished, agonised when Bernarda purports to shoot Pepe in the street. It is a lie: he is fine. But Adela, not knowing, commits suicide - both the play's climax and, surely, the ultimate consequence of the mother's brutality. The cast's response, disbelieving, aghast, agonised, grieving, was the last of many group scenes that were so well directed, well blocked, well conceived. The other star for me - and one must remember they were all stars, the play's whole cast - was Eve Hatz as the willful but intelligent Martirio. Somehow injured, so reliant on a single crutch as if arthritic but moving with alacrity, at 24 she is to some extent intermittently, arguably the most mature and perceptive of the daughters. In some ways, or at some points, the wisest. The whole play gains force by being stitched together with duets - pertinent scenes, every time beautifully articulate, reliant on a twosome exchange. That long scene between Sully and Delahaye - Bernarda and Poncia, all but a set-to. That between the two maids, tellingly acted. But that between Martirio and Adela was a convincing example. Hatz brought a powerful character, assertive but betimes calming, and her forceful personality stood out every time. It's as if the crutch, so far from indicating vulnerability, gave her strength and confidence. She was a fighter: resigned, but never overborne. Conversely, the family rows - there are two or three massive explosions, the girls rebelling both against their ghastly mother and between themselves - were magnificently staged. When they all doff black and appear in white near the end, it's as if Adela is dressed as a lamb for the slaughter. One of the girls speaks an ominous final truth regarding their vengeful, unforgiving mother: "She's not a mourner: she's a murderer". Adela's death is wholly her fault. Even at this dire juncture, Bernarda seems not so much taken aback as perfectly content. She feels no guilt. Life isn't going to change: it will go on as before. The Design, attributed to 'Commedia' made perfect sense. Its simplicity matched the unchangingness, the restrictedness, of the action. Half a dozen chairs, an ample table moved scene by scene, yielding different angles, and face on for the tense, draconian meal overshadowed by stern and morose Barnarda, and contrasted too when set stage right. Above, a kind of elaborate golden chandelier, which inticately crowns the scenes like an immovable icon; reflecting, perhaps, the frozen state of this eight-year embargo. The costumes, whether black (mostly) or white (latterly), seemed ideal. Presumably inflicted by the mother, they too indicated how the girls are unforgivably captured as one. But what in particular benefited Mary King's at every point first-rate, immensely thoughtful staging, marvellously moved so as to evince the tension of each scene and exchange, bitter or not, that did such justice to Lorca's masterpiece, was Richard Cooper's lighting - sometimes dipping to an atmospheric darkness, amazingly original after Adela's death - and sound. Jangling bells; whinnying horse, a couple of yapping dogs, the final (failed) gunshot, the sound of a festa in the street. these sounds gave a feeling of happenings outdoors - the events the girls are prevented from seeing or participating in. Indeed Bernarda shutters the windows so they are mercilessly deprived. And the set adjustments were artfully achieved by the backstage staff. So all in all, an altogether terrific, dazzling, gorgeous, outstanding and thoroughly professional presentation. Everyone clever, inspired, a brilliant, cracking, excellent achievement by Playbox. I can't wait for their next one. Roderic Dunnett 11-24 The Playbox Theatre will stage Alice Through The Looking Glass 01926 419555 on eight dates between 19-30- December |
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