The House of Bernarda Alba – Citz

Above the stage in this play by the National Theatre of Scotland there floats a large, mirrored ceiling. In this update, the action has all been plucked from the Andalusian countryside of Lorca’s original and been thrust kicking and screaming into Glasgow’s East End underworld. How well does this 70 year old Spanish play hold up a mirror to contemporary Scotland? Surprisingly perhaps, it does it reasonably well, amidst the claustophobia of one sinister family whom we see in only one setting – the dreamy cream living room of their home above the club that is the centre of their business operations.

Amongst a strong cast, Siobhan Redmond seethes with anger in the title role. Her vicious comic barbs are what keep the action flowing. It is she who can generally keep her house in order by the raising of an immaculately coiffured eyebrow. It is she who has an answer for everything. It is she who will sort things out. She may be a villain, but she is an arch, camp villain whom it is curiously difficult to dislike. It is the complexity of Bernie’s own life which feeds the hatreds that poison the characters of all those around her. That same complexity makes her strangely vulnerable, even when grasping a baseball bat and heading down to the street below to defend her territory from all comers.

Almost every character in this play is imprisoned in one way or another. So many lives locked away. The plush apartment where all the action is set is a prison for the five daughters and also for Bernie’s mother, who is herself locked into a room beyond. Una Maclean’s grandmother figure appears for just a couple of scenes and tantalises the audience with her tragic heartbreaking nonsense.

It is unusual to see a stage so full of female characters from beginning to end. Twelve talented female actors sizzle with anger and repressed rage in a play which will teach us not to be sentimental about what the world would be like if men were absent.

Rating: ★★★½☆
Other Reviews:
2/5 Robert Dawson Scott in the Times
3/5 Mark Fisher in the Guardian
3/5 Adam Ramsey in the Big Issue
4/5 Joyce MacMillan in the Scotsman

sh(OUT) – Glasgow's Gallery of Modern Art

The opening of the new exhibition sh(OUT) opened tonight. I made it to the opening bash, it being my day off. (I still take a day off in Holy Week lest I make it not unto the end).

I’m pleased that GoMA and Glasgow City Countil run these social justice themed exhibitions every couple of years but had mixed feelings about this one, as indeed I had about the last which was on sectarianism. The exhibition this year runs from now until November and is on the theme of lesbian, gay, bisexual, intersex and transgender life. We were told that it would both celebrate and raise awareness of “LGBT people, their rights and history”. (And that language on the GoMA website immediately excludes the very people it is trying to include, presuming that everyone who reads it is straight).

If the exhibition is a success, it felt like a very patchy success. By and large the works of art representing lesbian life seemed to me much more positive than those representing gay men. There was a lovely sculpted gravestone for two women, some good photographs by and of women and a tender, erotic watercolour that was genuinely moving.

When it came to the men’s side of things, there were only a couple of pieces which really seemed to celebrate any positive images. A rather nice naive piece by Holly Johnson showing two Egyptians embracing one another was a strong positive. Otherwise the exhibition seemed to celebrate alienation rather than life. An early David Hockney was a good piece to stare at and mull over, but profoundly sad. One longed for one of Hockney’s swimming pool scenes to break the dreariness of it all.

What were presumably supposed to be shocking images from Robert Mapplethorpe did not really shock so much as raise one’s eyebrow that anyone might be so quaint as to think them obscene in a world now dominated by sexual imagery. And as for the tree-like thing in the middle of the gallery growing genitalia, it was not merely old hat, but something which one could usefully hang one’s old hat on.

The T side of things was rather splendidly represented by a modern jewelled icon by Grayson Perry – the only piece in the exhibition that I think I’d want to go back and have another look at.

Two smaller exhibition spaces appear in the galleries around the entrance atrium. One full of cartoons which probably deserve closer inspection than was possible with the crowd this evening and the other, the experience of LGBT Youth. (Or rather LGBT Youth who have managed to find a supportive group to join). This was interesting not least because the experience described was as far away from the planet I live on as Mars is from Earth.

Interestingly, I noticed on the way home a quote from Troy Perry being used to advertise the exhibition, “The Lord is my Shepherd and He knows I’m gay”. It is a quote worth reflecting on, but no attempt was made in the exhibition as presented to deal with issues surrounding LGBT people and faith. Various outreach artists are working with groups across the city, and indeed we have had an approach from someone making contact with the LGBT group at St Mary’s. However, this is an all too safe way to deal with issues that people like me care about. One came away feeling that any religious experience was perhaps being closeted and the main viewing public being distrated from anything really edgy by penis-growing trees.

Verdict – Patchy

Rating: ★★☆☆☆