House of Bernarda Alba: Luz Nicolás – Photo: Daniel Martínez
The great gay poet and playwright Federico García Lorca made a clear point with the title of his best-known play, The House of Bernarda Alba. Spanish matriarch Bernarda Alba rules her roost with an iron will and a firm hand. In her house, she is the law that must be obeyed by all, including her five adult daughters, all living under her roof.
Her rules likely applied just as rigidly to her second husband Antonio, very recently deceased. With his death, Bernarda only tightens her grip on the household, decreeing an eight-year mourning period, during which none of her daughters shall be allowed to marry. She seals the house in mourning, and intends to trap all her family inside with her.
By means of eloquent design and execution, José Zayas’ new staging at GALA Hispanic Theatre, starring company mainstay Luz Nicolás as Bernarda, draws us inside, too, enveloped in the atmosphere of rigid control, yet entranced by the vivid performances and satisfying precision of the production.
Just about everything that happens onstage seems to look and move as intended. The blood-red walls and carpet of Grisele González’s gorgeously minimal scenic design relay the passions roiling about the house. Rukiya Henry-Fields finds vital nuance in the array of all-black costuming for the all-female cast, and Hailey LaRoe’s sharp lighting brings out every detail and expression.
Inside the house of Alba, lives might be stifled but the air is alive with tension, punctuated by Koki Lortkipanidze’s original music. Zayas choreographs his cast like dancers, arranging Bernarda’s five daughters around her in precise, eye-pleasing configurations, whether they’re in their chairs, embroidering lace in unison, or gathered to hear their mother’s latest decree.
Portraying daughters Angustias (María del Mar Rodríguez), Magdalena (Ana Malavé), Amelia (Ixchel), Martirio (Giselle González), and Adela (María Coral), each actress registers some level of impact. As the youngest, Adela, desperate with passion for the wrong man, Coral effectively builds to the drama’s heated finale, while González imbues her quietly obedient Martirio with a surprisingly defiant spirit.
The Alba daughters’ major conflict — over some man, of course — fuels a season’s worth of telenovela struggles in the play’s 90-plus minutes, presided over by Nicolás’ commanding turn in the title role. Her Bernarda is immaculately cruel and exacting, well-contained in her mania to oppress and abuse — in stark contrast to her own mother, María Josefa (Alicia Kaplan, delightfully demented), who’s quickly losing the farm.
Assisting Bernarda, or enabling her in her overbearing authority, the Albas’ gossipy maid Poncia observes and reports on every bit of scandal. In the show’s most enjoyable performance, Evelyn Rosario Vega makes Poncia a gleeful shit-stirrer, an essential tool of the tyrant, the speaker of the House, if you will.
She curries favor by feeding Bernarda info, stroking her ego, practically lining up throats to be cut, while mostly staying above the fray, and even considering herself a friend to her lady. Yet, more than once, Bernarda puts Poncia squarely back in her place, reminding her servant that dictators don’t have friends, just subjects.
That is, until the oppressed rise up — if they can in time. Lorca, tragically, was assassinated by a Nationalist fascist militia in 1936, a decade before this play, his last, was ever performed.
The House of Bernard Alba (★★★★☆) runs through March 1 at GALA Hispanic Theatre, 3333 14th St. NW. Performances are in Spanish with English surtitles. Tickets are $27 to $52, with discounts for Seniors, Military, Groups 10+, and Patrons Under 25. Call 202-234-7174 or visit galatheatre.org.
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