Song of First Desire
Writer: Andrew Bovell
Director: Neil Armfield
Belvoir Street Theatre
February 13 – March 23, 2025
This latest work by esteemed writer Andrew Bovell (Things I Know to Be True, The Secret River) is passionate, political and deeply affecting. Set in contemporary Madrid but interspersed with flashbacks to 1968 when Spain was still under Franco’s regime, it examines the lingering trauma which has filtered down to current generations decades after the Spanish Civil War ended – the title is from a poem by the Spanish poet, Federico Garcia Lorca, himself a victim of the war.
A neglected house in modern day Madrid is the home of almost middle-aged twins, Julia and Luis. They employ a Columbian immigrant, Alejandro, to take care of their mother who is ailing mentally. The handsome newcomer is a novelty to the siblings who appear to lead unusually reclusive lives, the reason for which is revealed as their stories unfold.
A sign flashed up on the wall informs the audience whether it’s “Now” or “1968” – very necessary as the actors play different characters in each era. The scenes from the past, seemingly played by the elders of the contemporary family are both revelatory and harrowing in the starkness of the unrelenting cruelty. It was a time when the regime set about “cleansing” the population of any they considered dissident, or aberrant in any way, using the most extreme methods – murder, summary execution, torture, sexual abuse. It is dark and confronting, but does establish how families, two generations later, still carry the scars.
The four actors, each handling past and present characters, perform superbly.
Sarah Peirse is a stand-out, first as modern-day Camelia, the mentally fading mother, then as the tragic Margarita of the past, who loses her family to the regime. Jorge Muriel (from the original Spanish production) creates two of the most contrasted characters: Luis, the gay, ineffective brother and Carlos, the heinous, immoral overlord. Equally, Kerry Fox handles her characters with aplomb: Julia, the feisty but damaged daughter, who sees no hope in her future, and secondly, as Carmen, the obedient, middle-class wife of Carlos. Last, but not least, is Borja Maestre (also from the original Spanish production), who represents the younger generation: first as Alejandro, forced to immigrate from Columbia, and then as Juan, in 1968 a dissident student who is forced by his mother, who knows the score, to flee for his life.
The creative crew adds immensely to the quality of the play. Music (Clemence Williams) is a subtle soundscape, augmented intermittently by a tolling bell which has a strongly dramatic effect. The set (Mel Page) is a garden area consisting mainly of soil and dying plants, in keeping with the parlous spiritual state of the inhabitants. Likewise, the lighting (Morgan Moroney) subtly moderates throughout, reflecting the emotional levels. Particularly effective is a strip of strong side lighting showing the actor on a dark stage.
Director Neil Armfield’s and Andrew Bovell’s efforts in bringing this stark yet intriguing work to the stage can be chalked up as another triumph in their already impressive careers.
