Josep Maria Miró presents El Cadell (The Puppy), a play that places us in a stately home where various generations of the same family appear before our eyes. And I say "appear" because that's really how it happens, as if they were apparitions, ghosts from the past that come to talk to us about the present.
Mercè Aránega, Lurdes Barba, Màrcia Cisteró, Roberto G. Alonso, Àurea Márquez, Alba Pujol, Rosa Renom, and Marc Tarrida are the protagonists of this proposal that places us in rural Catalonia, although the name of the village is never mentioned, we know we are at home because there are certain traditions (like the "boleitaire" - mushroom picker) that feel very close to us. In addition, we also have a language that we have surely heard on more than one occasion when we have approached rural regions: *dingú, for example, instead of ningú (nobody), resonates on stage to place us in the setting where this story takes place.
El Cadell presents us with a story that is not at all distant. A story that, unfortunately, resonates too much with the audience: the weight of the man in a family, the pride of having a boy and not a girl at the beginning of the century. Because a man was synonymous with strength, work, money. But a woman... A woman was a symbol of burden and dowry, of the need to marry her off and get rid of her as soon as possible (at 15 it was more than reasonable). Women seen as furniture in the house, as if they were only a nuisance, but who, in truth, were the only ones who supported the house and the family. Well, just like it happens now. Yes: things can change color and shape, but the basis remains the same.
In search of the puppy
The first scene of the play already shows the tone of the two and a quarter hours we will see on stage: a man and a woman who meet and decide to marry. Well, he decides to marry her and, to do so, he evaluates her as if she were livestock: he analyzes her body, her strength, and questions whether she will be able to manage the house and, above all, to give him a puppy. Puppy. Here is the first moment where this word, so graphic and derogatory at the same time, appears. Puppy.
From this moment on, we see all the women who are part of the family parade on stage: the two sisters, the daughters, the nieces and, of course, the desired son. And these women have no name: they only have the nickname that the man of the house gives them: The Strange One, The Magpie or The Petals, among others. But he does have a name and makes sure to make it very clear. He does not accept the name Cadell, he is called Josep (and, later, Albert will come, who also reaffirms his identity).
Women as ghosts of a dark and very Lorquian house
The women of the house, therefore, appear blurred, like shadows walking through the corridors, living in darkness and having to speak softly so as not to disturb the men. They keep silent and obey. But, in the midst of this silence, there are also voices, whispers that are authoritarian, lethal. As if they lived inside Lorca's work The House of Bernarda Alba, all these women live subjected to the mother, an inflexible, Catholic and authoritarian woman who has completely annulled all the women who live with her. In addition, this Lorquian touch can also be seen in the costumes (all dressed in black, as if they were in mourning) and with the darkness that reigns on stage. Shadows, trembling lights and suffocating darkness are the main protagonists of the staging.
Alba Pujol, the mother of the family, is the representative of authority, a woman who, moreover, remains impregnated in the house with a funny and very significant image: her "bun" is marked on the walls due to the smoke from the chimney. Her presence, always intact, will be over the house, hovering over its walls and watching all movements. Pujol gives an interpretation full of truth, harshness, a firm hand; she causes rejection, anger, pain... But when, in the end, we see a little of her humanity, we break with her and understand that she is nothing more than another victim of the patriarchal system that suffocates and annihilates.
Màrcia Cisteró is her mother's clearest victim. She, in a dangerous situation, insistently asks for help. She, like Lorca's Adela, wanted a different life, full of beauty, literature, dreams. A free soul, eager to escape that prevailing darkness and to experience love, passion, life... But she makes a mistake. "You were in a great hurry to leave," her mother reminds her and closes the door on her. She is the Stranger; strange only because she likes to read, because she is different from the rest, because she has wings instead of arms. The stranger who leaves us with a lump in our throats and who is masterfully played by Màrcia Cisteró.
Impeccable and powerful performances
All the actresses do an impeccable job defending their roles: Mercè Aránega, Lurdes Barba, Màrcia Cisteró, Roberto G. Alonso, Àurea Márquez, Alba Pujol and Rosa Renom. And all of them have behind them a story of renunciation, pressured by the prevailing machismo of society. The Aunt, for example, decides to be an aunt forever, not to marry or have descendants, given her mother's prohibition to marry the man she truly loved. Pètals is another endearing character: an 18-year-old girl almost forced to marry a 40-year-old man and settled in a dark, oppressive house, a house that erases her from life and that (with a beautiful symbolism from the author) bleaches her hair white.
Marc Tarrida is the only actor in the production and plays the men of three generations of the family. All three are cubs, but they are very different from each other. While the first two follow a very similar pattern in how they treat women (with very subtle differences), the third, the most contemporary, is the most different and striking. He is the one who brings us to the present and makes us understand how difficult it is for many people to live in an environment where ideas can be more old-fashioned and conservative.
A separate mention deserves the sublime, ironic, funny and energetic monologue by Mercè Aránega. Her appearance on stage is like a breath of fresh air: we leave the darkness and silence of the women, to let her character speak for about twenty minutes, and she doesn't miss a beat. She talks about family, yes; but she also talks about more current topics like politics or racism (this last speech is immense, destroying all the false racist beliefs that are so often heard on social media today).
Josep Maria Miró has written a rural tragedy that shakes and angers. How could this have happened in our country? How could women live silenced and confined within the walls of a house? And, at the same time, it also makes us reflect on the present. Because, although this situation is unlikely to happen today, it is true that the last story, that of Albert, is not so distant and is a great reflection of how far the oppression of the patriarchal system can go.