'Yerma' : A Review

So, the other night I got to enjoy an encore, streamed live, performance of the reimagined play, Yerma, staring Billie Piper.

Originally written by Frederico Locra, this play explores the troubles and grief of a woman desperate for a child, who is willing to go to extreme lengths to get one. Although I've never read the original play, an introductory message at the streaming informed the audience that the original text was full of poetic language. A symbolic play with subliminal messages and undertones; full of layers.

And this updated version was no less. Infact, I was almost dreading that 'poetic language': I wasn't too fond of a contemporary, twenty-first-century setting with un-realistic language tainting the fantasy. I wasn't let down. The script was so well written in a way that incorporated all these metaphors and poetic language, within the everyday chat and slang of someone living in 2017. The ability to truly believe that this is real, that you are watching someone's life unfold from the outside only heightened the effect of the gripping story, and the emotions and grief each character displays. Speaking of looking in from the outside, the set and stage are some other things I'd like to mention.

The stage is a Traverse composed of, more or less, a glass box. This glass box has three different types of flooring, and within it are minimal props to suggest to the audience where the characters are. For example, as seen above, fairy lights, to show that there is a party taking place. At one point, moving boxes on a carpeted floor: moving into a new house. At another point, rain and a mud floor: a festival. The only time this stage was ever fully furnished for a scene was the one moment where we catch a glimpse of what this ideal life that Yerma has been imagining for herself: the couple are in a fully furnished house with a baby that they stare at adoringly. The audience are led to believe that perhaps, despite the troubles, Yerma has finally been successful in her attempts for a pregnancy. The house is completely furnished with a dining table, a sofa, a breakfast bar, and babies toys thrown all over the room. However, we soon find out it is her sister's child, and the production returns to the minimal props.

The three floors were especially effective, as I believe they signify different stages of the story, and different themes. First, we see the white carpet, that thrusts us into the life of a couple buying their first, new house. This carpet also doubles for an office, and overall appears to be very clean, untarnished, and new. But, slowly, the carpet begins to get dirty, however could still pass as white; not yet too discoloured. While this is happening, the grass does appear now and again for certain outdoor scenes, and looks especially hopefully when a tree is planted within the garden, signifying the growth of a new life. However, this garden also starts to get dirty, and messy, and tainted, and part way through it's noticeable that the tree is now wilted and decaying, having died in-between scenes. This only appears when Yerma's life truly starts to deteriorate.

And, of course, if you've seen this production, you'll understand exactly how terrifying and symbolic the mud floor is; a change of setting that we see towards the very end of the show. However, for that final, powerful scene, we return to the white carpet, almost looking good as new. This provides a stark contrast to the dark, unsettling emotions that bubble during this scene.

This play is an hour and a half long, without an interval. The constant, face paced nature of this play would be ruined by an interval, and the lack of one keeps the illusion alive for that whole time, allowing you to get deeper and deeper into the emotions of the characters without being torn away for a break.

Each scene is introduced and abruptly ended by a black screen with white writing, that informs you of the amount of time that has passed since the last scene. It's never the same: it can jump from one week, to next Wednesday, to 'around' three months, to 'about' two years. While this is happening, creepy, unsettling, harmonised opera singers sing in the background. At first, it sounds quite peaceful and calming, but as the play progresses I found myself realising just how creepy they sounded and, once the play began to get really dark, the voices were swapped out for loud, chaotic drumming.

If an anxiety attack sounds like anything, it's most likely that.

These cut scenes, while creepy, thrust us into the scenes midway through conversation, or pulls us out of a scene in the middle of a sentence. This technique made me feel like this whole play was real: that, instead of watching a production, I was catching little glimpses into someone's life - watching from the inside out.  Watching, as their lives played out in that glass box infront of me, unaware to the audience looking in.

Overall, this play was amazing. Gruelling, gripping, terrifying and heartbreaking. You end up caring, deeply, for characters you shouldn't like. The characters you once found irritating you now pity, as you can truly believe their turmoil as the events of the play unfold. But most of all, this play leaves an impact: the ending is just so shocking that it leaves you thinking about it for days. There's a certain lack of closure; talking about it seems to be the only way I can get this all out of my system, hence why I'm writing a blog post. The whole cast was wonderful, but Billie Piper needs a special mention, for truly stealing the show. She portrays this character as so bubbly and charismatic at first, before the slow, subtle changes ooze into her personality, and she becomes more and more obsessed and unstable.

Now, for the song I'm listening to most:

Cheap Monday by New Order