Playwright: John Michael LaChuisa, based
on the drama by Federico Garcia Lorca
At: Bohemian Theatre Ensemble, 7016 N. Glenwood
Phone: 866-811-4111; $18-$22
Runs through: Nov. 16
At a crucial juncture in Bernarda Alba—a musical, the stage seems to explode with desperation. Hooves pound with a reckless determination, as a stallion tries to escape his stall. An ancient crone—long ago locked away as a family embarrassment—unfurls ribbons of screaming: She must get to the ocean before she dies. And finally, a young woman as lush and pretty as ripe fruit writhes in a dance that's a defiant, destructive celebration of carnality. Everyone in the house of matriarch Bernarda Alba has been sequestered there far too long. If there is no escape, there will certainly be death—or worse, resignation.
Based on Federico Garcia Lorca's dramatic allegory for life under the fascist regime of Francisco Franco, Michael John LaChuisa's Bernarda Alba—a musical is a dark, dense and challenging work. If you don't have some background in the context, you might well walk away from the theater baffled and unmoved by this story of a woman who virtually bricks up her home like a mausoleum upon the death of her husband. Bernarda's five daughters—young women on the verge of blossoming sexually—are all but buried alive in a house defined by enforced mourning, fear and death.
Lorca knew oppression. With Franco working in tandem with the Pope, thousands of Spain's artists, intellectuals and homosexuals ( Lorca was all three ) were persecuted and/or executed in the 1930s. Lorca was murdered in 1936; his work banned in Spain until 1953. Bernarda Alba—a musical is freighted with the context of Lorca's all-too-brief life. The ruthless, unforgiving form of Catholicism that defines Bernarda is a clear reflection of the religious atmosphere that surrounded Lorca. Bernarda's constant vigilance against the prying, judgmental eyes of neighbors speaks to the constant fear and paranoia that develops when one lives under a regime where spies and executions part of the fabric of daily life.
Directed by Elizabeth Margolius for the Bohemian Theatre Company, Bernarda Alba—a musical is harrowing, challenging and richly rewarding. For 80 relentless minutes, the audience is captive in Bernarda's house, and a silently pleading participant in Bernarda's daughters' attempts to break free. You want these women to escape, and you understand the often cruel, hateful means they'll use to do so.
As Bernarda, Deanna Boyd sets the tone with a grim, powerhouse performance that never flags in intensity or purpose. You may not like her, but there's no denying the sheer, scary power of Boyd's character. Andra Velis Simon's astute musical direction makes the difficult, often discordant score a compelling conduit for a dark story often literally bursting ( see Michelle Julazadeh's perfectly conceptualized costumes ) with repressed sexuality. A live three-piece orchestra of piano, oboe ( Quinn Hazel ) and guitar ( evocative, hypnotic work by Ricardo Santiago ) creates a lush soundscape.
And Boho's tiny, all-but claustrophobic space is an ideal one for this particular tale.