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Ay Carmela has poignant moral
AY CARMELA
Shaw Theatre
CARMELA and Paulino are two comedians who sing and dance their way through the bars, cafés, brothels and cabaret dens of Spain in the 1930s.
But the pair have accidentally crossed into fascist territory and are forced to put on a show for the troops. But among the audience are a group of prisoners, members of the International Brigade, who are chained together and face a firing squad in the morning.
The first act has us meeting the pair – and we learn from the soliloquys of Paulino, and his drunken demur, that something heartbreaking, something terrible, something sinister has happened to the female half of the duo.
It is occasionally confusing, as the actors rattle off their words as if their voices were croaking through too much Rioja and their words were being carried across rough wooden tables in a basement tapas bar.
It also suffers from a muddled chronology. But all these ruffles are soon smoothed out as the story unfolds, and while it took some time for the audience and the actors to warm up, the second half was such an intense experience, the first act’s laying of the ground is quickly forgotten.
We discover gradually that the Carmela before us is a Shakespearean ghost, come to discuss the manner of her demise with Paulino.
And what unravels is a sad tale of principles, of sacrifice and of the moronic cruelty that swept through Spain during the civil war and ignored the sanctity of human life.
Originally written in Spanish by José Sanchis Sinisterra and made into a successful feature film, it has been superbly translated.
Steve Trafford, responsible for the English version, uses a clever linguistic trick. The actors make the English they are speaking sound Spanish. They pronounce certain words with deep Iberian intonations, roll the r’s in place names with glee, rattle of the names of fascist generals with relish.
Both Elizabeth Mansfield and Robert Pickavance turn in superb performances, the pair of them filling the stage and making the most of the limited set.
Pickavance looks a little like John Cleese as his vaudeville turn takes centre stage, and acts like Basil Fawlty as he goose steps back and forth.
And with a desperately sad ending that brings alive fascist atrocities, this is not only an entertaining piece of theatre, it carries a message about decency and humanity which will stay with you.
0870 033 2600
Until Nov 18
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