Beer Sheva Theatre’s powerful production of Blood Wedding, directed by Kfir Azulay, imbues the play with all the dark passion of its author, Federico García Lorca. First performed in 1933, it is associated with Lorca’s plan for a “trilogy of The Spanish Earth,” and rather than attempt to invest the play with a contemporary setting or present a period piece, Azulay has chosen to preserve the spirit of Lorca and the Spanish culture he describes through imagery and association. An atmosphere of foreboding and tension is established from the first moments of the play, with set design, costume and music creating a strong effect, adhering to the principle of eschewing realism in favor of an evocative, minimalist design with symbolic impact.
This approach is very much in the spirit of the play, which situates itself at once in the symbolic/mythic and contemporary in a simple yet direct manner: with one exception, none of the characters have names. The play is centered around a wedding, and one is introduced to the characters, each in turn – the Bridegroom (Tom Avni), the Mother (Shiri Golan), the Neighbor Woman (Michal Weinberg), the Servant (Evelyn Hagoel), and eventually, the Bride (Avigail Harari). The characters are named for their roles and relationships to one another in this social drama, evoking the world of folklore and myth, old tales that are told and retold, establishing a fictional world that reflects the values and rules of society. Yet in contrast to the folk tales, there is one character who bears a name, the young man Leonardo (Tom Hagi), who plays a pivotal role in the drama. The folktale has no place for individuals, that is a modern invention.
The play opens with an air of foreboding; an empty chair sits on an empty stage under a single light. A host of black clad figures gathers around the chair then disappears, leaving behind a solitary woman, the Mother. The figures sit on rows of chairs at both sides of the stage, while in the center the Mother talks to her son, the Bridegroom. He’s about to go out to the vineyard, and wants to take a knife to cut some grapes off the vine for his lunch. The Mother demurs, for her the knife is always a tool of death. In a flash of light and clash of metal on wood, any possible pastoral illusions of the countryside are dispelled, this will end in blood.
The tragedy of the future is rooted in the past, as established in this strong, electrifying, opening scene. The mother is in perpetual mourning for her husband, who was killed after only three years of marriage, and her oldest son, who was also the victim of the long spiral of death and revenge that spans generations. Shiri Golan as the mother is the very image of fate, tall in her long black dress, her pale face framed in ebony black hair, her resonant voice invoking doom. She lives the norms of this society in which a woman exists for her husband and children, the home is her haven, her fortress and her prison. The Bridegroom is in love, and about to be married, Tom Avni brings a youthful innocence and charm to this role.
And what of the Bride? One meets the Bride only after the Mother and the Father of the Bride (Yonatan Cherchie) have come to an agreement, that is the commerce of love. Marriage, in this society, cannot be just about love. Love is well and good, if it serves to preserve and increase the profits of the landowners. Marriage is a question of suitability: are the intended couple of the same social class, will this union benefit the two families?
All appears to be well, and the Bride is summoned. The Mother has brought an appropriate gift, a necklace. As she fastens the necklace on the Bride’s neck, she takes the opportunity to instruct: “One man, children, and a thick wall to keep you apart from all the rest.” That is a woman’s destiny in this society.
Yet the Bride has a past, and in this world, the past dictates the future. In Lorca’s poetic, symbolic world, the scene has been set for the tragic future in hints and allusions. The Bridegroom’s father and brother both died of knife wounds. The Bride was engaged once before. Her cousin (Zohar Meidan) is now married to that former suitor, Leonardo, and they have a child. Yet if one listens carefully to the lullaby the cousin sings to her child, the words foretell what is to come.
In the action of the play, Avigail Harari conveys the complex ambivalence of the Bride. One senses that something is wrong, yet the source of the problem is shrouded in mystery, one must tease it out of the narrative. Leonardo, the former suitor, seethes with anger and passion, speaks brutally to his wife, yet repeatedly asks how fares the child. His entire being radiates ‘bad guy,’ yet the crux of this play is that things are not as they seem.
Blood Wedding portrays people caught within the grip of an oppressive society, ruled by social censure as inescapable as the hot sun bearing down on them all. One’s life is determined before birth by one’s ancestors, gender, social and economic position, birth order. There is no room for individual desires and dreams in this world. There is some measure of freedom for those who are so lowly that their lives and actions are deemed insignificant – the servants. Evelyn Hagoel brings a lively, earthy, warmth to her portrayal of the Servant, stealing a sip of wine, teasing the Bride about the joys of marriage. The Servant has no reputation to maintain, and so may take liberties, as long as she remains within the confines of her role. Yet what would happen if someone chose to defy society’s restrictions and dream of a different life? What happens when someone chooses to follow his heart?
Azulay establishes an atmosphere of dark fantasy and ritual, with a symbolic weight to every utterance and gesture. The underlying tensions mount throughout the play, enhanced by excellent performances from the entire cast. Ora Meirson, in a both her roles, brings a crisp note of expressive restraint that gives a marvelous edge to her performance, conveying magnitudes with just a look. At times, the weight of symbolic resonance, with the added burden of Lorca’s poetic language, leads to an impasse, the accumulation of symbols and portent becomes somewhat opaque to the viewer. Yet overall, Azulay takes the viewer on a visually rich, and musically evocative journey into the emotional world of the play, a thought-provoking tragedy that very justly leaves one with more questions than answers.
Blood Wedding
By Federico García Lorca; Translated by Rina Litvin; Directed by Kfir Azulay; Set and costumes design: Jehudit Aharon; Lighting: Adi Shimrony; Original score, arrangements and orchestration: Elad Adar; Songs composition: Jasmine Even; Video: Michal Hermon; Text training: Dan Inbar; Cast: The Bridegroom – Tom Avni, The Mother – Shiri Golan, Young girls – Tamar Gov Ari, Sharon Nae, Hadas Lasri/Gil Fishman; The Servant Woman – Evelyn Hagoel, Woodcutters and Young Men – Eliran Harush, Elad Sudai, Dani Shapira; The Bride – Avigail Harari; The Moon and The Neighbor Woman – Michal Weinberg; Leonardo – Tom Hagi; The mother in law and Death (as a Beggar Woman) – Ora Meirson; Leonardo’s Wife – Zohar Meidan; The Bride’s Father – Yonatan Cherchie.
