Yerma by Federico Garcia Lorca
Diorama Arts Centre, April 2001

Dropping one’s pen down behind the back of the auditorium raking just as the houselights are coming down is not the wisest of moves for any reviewer in a play without an interval. Would I remember anything when returning home after drinks with the lighting operator who was, on learning my predicament, claiming all glory as his own doing. Certainly as the dimmers were being pushed up to full on the desk, and a faint clanking came from beneath the audience, a vivid description of pre-war Andalusia in the stunning form of Erik Rehl’s set and Calina De La Mare’s score, executed by herself and James Keane, was presented to the raked audience minus one pen. Together they created an inviting setting within which we would be presented with flashes of dance, colour and song from the strong female dominated cast, as well as the tragedy of Yerma herself.

Yerma’s story is a frustrating one and ‘one familiar to everyone, the fact that we are destined to pursue what we know is impossible’. On reflection there was potential for Yerma to be two hours of ‘Spanish women moaning about Swallow’s flying South to Morocco’, to paraphrase Monty Python on Chekov. However, Romilly Walton Masters’ attitude towards the play lifted its text high off the page and turned it, where required, into a living pageant distinctly peppered with definite traces of Iberian festivals, but which quickly returned to earth when the tragedy dictated. There was, throughout the night’s progression, the sense of an educated and unified rehearsal period that, in turn, gave birth to a seamless and clear production; a play on sterility doth not a sterile play make.

Ruth Connelly held the attention throughout as Yerma. Her portrayal was balanced and astute, playing both the lucid and the possessed aspects of the character with an equal weighting, rather than pontificating an opinion on the character that could only have offered a narrow slice of the character’s psyche.

Ms Connelly allowed Yerma to stand up against her husband Juan, whose own problems and ideas were allowed an understanding voice in Nick Mercer and stand firm in her fidelity as tested by a caring Victor, played quietly but with a definite undercurrent by Adam Brown. Maria, Yerma’s friend and confident, who blurs in with the rest of the villagers when she herself is fortunate to have a child, was coolly, if not coldly, played by Elle-Louise Berrie and where Maria was cold there was a get-your-strawberries-in frost present in the pairing of Juan’s sisters as performed by Lucy Morris and Jennie Rawlings.

Within their individual roles and as a chorus - Minna Duncan, Phillipa Bishop, Rachel Dyson, Sarah Jones, Georgina Smith and Dee Woods all allowed for sequences and singing which without would have left the production sorely lacking. When combined with the mask work of Tony Merthwaite we were presented with quality moments that were as intriguing as they were poetical.

Paulina Brandt stated that it’s nice when one of them (an old crow) turns up and it certainly was a pleasure to see her play the part of the old pagan woman with measured precision and wisdom.

The production as a whole worked well and set a standard in terms of artistic achievement and professionalism that future productions should take note of. As for the lighting? Well, it was well designed (Paul Gaskell). Well done Peter!