The House of Bernarda Alba

Annabel Banks picks the lock and sneaks around in the sexually repressive darkness

ADC Theatre Mainshow - 7.30pm Tues 3rd-Sat 7^th November

4/5

I saw something special this evening. I took my seat before the open stage, where kneeling figures prayed, singing in the shadows. The doors were shut, the house lights dimmed, and then began a movement of women; backlit bodies, arms arcing in silhouette, dancing their way into the story, and taking us with them. Bernada Alba, recently widowed, terrorises her house with her sharp tongue and heavy walking stick. Her five daughters are raised in an atmosphere of such repressed sexuality that each mention of men brings a visible shiver. Concerned with class and reputation, she has kept them away from all suitors?that is, until the handsome Pepe El Romano comes to court one of them.

Although there are no weak links in the casting, it is the performances of the stern Bernada (Ellie Massey) and her housekeeper La Poncia (Eve Rosato) that are at the core of this piece. Around them, the younger girls act out their prettiness and pettiness, their bubbling repression and devastating rebellion, as the eighty year old grandmother gleefully escapes her watchers and sings the words the daughters dare not voice. La Poncia's knowledge of sex and men gives her a unique perspective, one that Rosato successfully transmits, having a voice that is a delight to focus upon.

Vocal work from Massey is also excellent, and her stiff-backed rage is terrifying. She doesn't need her stick to threaten her children with, as one shout could bring the house crashing down. Director Sam Pallis keeps the action mobile and has a fluidity to his scene changes that adds to the sense of watching a dance. This is good stuff.

Of course, there are moments that need extra work: a little line-stepping needs to be curbed; some important final sound effects need a rethink. But this is not to condemn all. Some of the sound work was well judged, notably a scanning radio, mostly static, that not only confirmed the country and time period but also accentuated the feeling that something was being searched for: healthy desire becoming perverted into a desperate reverence of masculinity. We are told that 'the mares are boxed, as the stallion roams free', but of course we have been watching this all along. The men of the village are mythologized, their free sexuality celebrated in delighted rumour and giggling scandal. Inevitably, women carry the shame of the results, in a goose pimple-making moment before the interval.

I have never seen a Cambridge production where the lighting was so carefully thought out and expertly executed. It refused the convention of simple illumination, scene punctuation or a casual darkness to shuffle scenery in. This lighting was alive: it moved mid-scene, tracing the changing moods of the action and reassuring us, along with tone shifts that were unnerving at first.

The repression and anger being displayed before me were severe?could I laugh? Was that right? And the answer was yes, although relief was granted through bitter wit and childish senility. The humour was well played, and sometimes delightfully self-conscious. A dance number to a recognisable piece of music suddenly threw us into a chick-flick montage, and just for a minute we were in a different place, one full of romantic proposals and the wonder of love. Later, as the stunning final tableau faded to black, I sat back in my seat and stared. This production is well cast, careful, nuanced and sad. Go and see it.

Annabel Banks