THE HOUSE OF BERNARDA ALBA. To 19 April.
London
THE HOUSE OF BERNARDA ALBA
by Federico GarcÃÂÂa Lorca translated by Rebecca Morahan and Auriol Smith
Orange Tree Theatre, Richmond To 19 April
Mon-Sat: 7:45pm Mat Sat 4pm & 3 April 2.30pm
Runs: 2hr One interval
TICKETS: 020 8940 3633
www.orangetreetheatre.co.uk
Review: Emma Dunford
A dark and pressing Spanish tragedy of sexual repression and disloyalty – a difficult play with an all female cast but as usual the Orange Tree Theatre pulls it off.
It was a surprisingly young and varied audience that filled the Orange Tree's benches to watch this new translation of Lorca's tragedy. All must have been touched by the story's bitter tragedy.
Lorca completed Bernarda Alba only two weeks before his murder in 1936 by anti-Republican rebels. Ironically, it may well have been betrayal by the family of neighbours on whom he based the play - keeping their name, Alba - which led to his capture and assassination. (Ironically again, the daughters of one of his murderers became actresses - did they ever play in Bernarda Alba's house?).
Liberal-minded in his ideas and ideals, Lorca marks the time in Spain when women served and obeyed their husbands and when their function in marriage was chiefly procreation. Sex outside marriage was punishable by the worst possible means and sexual repression was an ever-present aggravation for women to endure.
Bernarda's husband has just died leaving her to lead her five daughters through seemingly never-ending years of mourning, shut away in their house with access to the outside world only through the servants' gossiping mouths and their own sexually-driven fantasies.
The Orange Tree's stage lends itself brilliantly to the claustrophobia that such an enclosed lifestyle would breed in the stifling heat of the Mediterranean Summer, and the sexually liberated background sounds of men singing in the fields and fumbling in the stable yard are both effective and affective when it comes to emphasising the presence and impact of an all female cast.
Lynn Farleigh's Bernarda is stirring, spitting out her dialogue whilst wearing a perpetual frown – her daughters may choose to stand up to their mother at times; her severe tone of voice and unsettling, intimidating presence would have prevented me from disobeying orders, let alone the thrashing and unrelenting cane with which she accompanies many of them.
Her five daughters – all playing for power and showing that family loyalties can be disregarded in the face of potential sexual fulfilment – are alike in character yet still different enough in motivation to gain our pity through their individual grievances.
And Bernarda’s dementia-afflicted mother Maria Josefa, played with comic conviction by Sheila Burrell, gains our heart and compassion in her white dress garbed in garlands and pearls – a stark contrast to the black adorned by the rest of the family. She pitifully illustrates what happens when repression is left to fester and go stale.
The play is dark and pressing, with a subtle undertone that hints at the hypocrisy of class structure while being unequivocal in its resolve against authoritarianism. It does not cheer and it does not easily entertain, but the fine acting enhances the bleak yet thought-provoking fact that sexism in the Western world has come a long way in the last two hundred years.
Servant: Eileen Davies
Poncia: Rowena Cooper
Beggar Woman: Sam Dowson
Angustias: Paula Stockbridge
Bernarda: Lynn Farleigh
Adela: Aimee Cowen
Magdelena: Anna Northam
Ameila: Daisy Ashford
Martirio: Leah Muller
Maria Josefa: Sheila Burrell
Child: Katie Barney/Maddy Mathias/Lizzy Pedley/Eleanor Warner
Director: Auriol Smith
Designer: Julie Nelson
2003-03-31 13:03:16