The House of Bernarda Alba - BADA in London

What's this? A rock fan reviewing a play? Since when are they supposed to have any culture?

Suck it up, I like rock and I like the symphony and I like plays. So this is my review/write-up of the British American Drama Academy's production of "The House of Bernarda Alba" a play about an abusive mother and oppressive gender roles set in some inspecific "past" probably the 1800s or so.

First off I'll say it was a student play. What this meant was, to maximize the experience for the young actors, the entire cast (save the title character) would switch their roles at the end of each act. This, and the simularity of the costumes to each other, made it hard to keep the characters straight. This made the majority of the cast largely irrelevent: it sent the message that casting didn't matter and counted on the writing itself to keep the audience informed about who was who, and I'm not sure how successful it was. You form a bond to one character given a good scene or moving moment, and next thing you know, the character is literally someone else. It made the crucial suspention of disbelief really hard.

Two characters didn't have that problem: the vicious title character, played with a dark brand of bitchy that went beyond the pale... Sonia Acosta might have some momma issues, but she sold the audience on a brand of evil and opression born out of utter desperation and heartbreak. Bernarda's mother, Maria Josefa, was the gem of the show: the madwoman with a playful side, who'se nurosis is her answer to the stiffling confines of her world and who'se gentle affection for her family provides the contrast to the dark storm of Bernarda's rule.

This is a play all about that storm. But the storm itself is also the problem. It's a play full of characters who are trapped: by circumstance, by rules of gender and society and since it's well illustrated that death awaits any who break the rules, the sensation of being stiffled is tangible. It gives the story it's edge, but it also means no character, not even the wicked Bernarda, has any power over it's outcome. The most powerful force in the story is Pacco, the handsome young suitor who plans to marry the oldest sister for her inheritance while sleeping with the youngest; his influence is what drives the story to it's conclusion, and he's never actually seen in the play. The overall effect is a plot that isn't really a plot, it's a series of events that can only really end one way. The voice-of-reason housekeeper comments sadly that the problem is that "They are women without men," and all the girls yern for the release of sex and for freedom from their house, both of which can only come from a marrige. I'm glad I didn't live back then.

It's one of those plays with an awkward curtain call. No one wants to cheer once the inevitable has happened. Thought provoking as it is, it's not what anyone would call uplifting. Though I guess I can be thankful that I didn't live back then. The age of drawing rooms and dowreys sounds utterly miserable.