Theatre Review: Hermanas

Back home after some time recharging the batteries and eating far too much in Spain, enjoying a mug of Cola Cao and a buñuelo bought in Valencia as if delaying the reality of my return to the everyday, I asked myself the obvious question: can I write about a trip to the theatre in what is ostensibly a book blog? Well, without need for further discussion, when said blog's name is inspired by a play, the answer must be yes. So here goes...

While in Spain I went to the Teatre Municipal de Benicàssim to see Hermanas (Bárbara e Irene). This was my first time seeing a professional theatre production in the country. I specify professional as I had previously been to a student performance in Logroño. 

Hermanas, currently touring Spain, is a Pascal Rambert production for El Pavón Teatro Kamikaze in Madrid and it premiered in parallel with the French version of the play, Sœurs (Marina & Audrey), at the Théâtre des Bouffes du Nord in Paris. I wonder how often that happens, that a translated text is performed or released at the same time as the original. 

(A special mention here to the Teatro Cervantes in London, who regularly perform the same play in both English and Spanish and occasionally even offer bilingual performances – the latter being something I wish they did more often.)

In the case of Hermanas/Sœurs, it is a little more complex than that, this is not merely an instance of one play being released simultaneously in two languages, in fact the work was created specifically to that end and with all four actors – two Spanish, two French – in mind. Two characters, written for and inspired by four people. So not translation and original, but one original in two languages which both influenced the other. 

Waiting in my seat pre-show, I couldn’t help but reflect on how notable it was that I was in a small town. The atmosphere was a sociable one as the audience members greeted each other, waved across the room to familiar faces as they entered or engaged with other groups in conversation. Everyone seemed to know someone that they hadn’t arrived with. 

The play began without warning and before the hubbub in the stalls had entirely faded away. This would turn out to be portentous of the audience’s etiquette, or lack thereof, that was to follow. Much to my surprise and annoyance, the audience struggled to stay silent throughout the performance. Audible whispers persisted, punctuated by more coughing than seemed natural and topped off with multiple instances of loudly ringing phones. 

This isn’t me being overly fussy, it really was to the point of being embarrassing and I felt sorry for the two women on stage.

It is to the credit of Irene Escolar and Bárbara Lennie that this did not appear to faze or interrupt them, except on one occasion when they were forced to take an impromptu ceasefire before resuming hostilities.

Let me clarify that last remark, Hermanas is a story of two sisters, as the title suggests, although perhaps it would be more accurate to describe it as an argument between two sisters; a fierce, scathing, almost relentless barrage of reproaches, barbs and accusations, rooted in years of conflict, rivalry and jealousy. 

This is a one-act, one-scene explosion of pain, bitterness, rancour and – perhaps, very deep down and carefully concealed – love. Such is the intensity of the experience that it took me some time to be able to assimilate it all and it was probably only looking back on it that I was able to properly appreciate it. 

The actors make good use of the stage, room and a small number of props to add some physical dynamism to a work that is, essentially, just one conversation. Amongst the verbal sparring there is the occasional heavy pause, laden with emotion and necessary for one sister or both to gather themselves, hold back tears or mentally prepare for the next round. Sometimes you think they have reached breaking point, a place of no return, but that blood bond, for better or worse, doesn’t sever so simply. 

Irene and Bárbara, the characters, are two very different people, and struggle to reconcile their world view with how they see the other. In classic family-feud style, things are cast up, the past is not forgotten and forgiveness in the present is some way off. The inability to transition from fighting siblings to a healthy adult relationship leaves both sisters as a destructive presence in the other’s life, both intentionally and otherwise. There is wilful hurt perpetrated and planned by both; what for one woman is betrayal is for the other justified vengeance. 

At times, the dialogue is a little unclear, such as when one of the sisters speaks as if they were another, not present character. It is perhaps a fault of the direction that these moments were not greater differentiated. Also uncertain was the reaction of the audience. At the end, a number of those in the room rose to their feet, while others remained seated, some applauding with varying degrees of enthusiasm and some not at all. I suspect that some were wowed by the passion on display and some were still trying to take it all in. 

I fell into the latter category, offering warm applause from my seat but even in the car after the show still unsure what I really thought of it. The fact, though, that in the days following the performance I was still thinking about it – and that even now, back home, Cola Cao drained and buñuelo scoffed, I’m still turning it over – means they must have been doing something right.  

If you get the chance, I would recommend experiencing Hermanas on what remains of its Spanish tour.  

#Spain #Theatre #Benicàssim #Hermanas #Valencia #Translation