Cervantes' dogs return to the Teatre Romea with Palabra de perro, the new proposal written by Juan Mayorga, directed by Rakel Camacho and performed by Cecilia Solaguren (in the role of Cipión), Jimmy Castro ( as Berganza) and Jorge Kent (who embodies different characters).
But, on this occasion, Mayorga has chosen to present a different story from Cervantes': a story in which the colloquy between the dogs is done with the aim of explaining their own history to themselves. The word understood as memory, as discovery, as a tool to know who we really are.
Palabra de perro places us in a closed space, full of cages, where dogs are tied, controlled and constantly watched. Cipión and Berganza have met in this place momentarily, tomorrow they will separate again, so they must take advantage of this night to enjoy their gift of speech, get to know each other, tell their story and, then, immerse themselves again in the most absolute silence. A night of freedom in which both dogs will be able to better understand their origins and their identity.
The mirror of current society
Cipión, in the role of psychoanalyst, is the one who will encourage Berganza to tell his story from Z to A, that is, from the most recent events to the most distant ones. In this way, with this regressive journey, they will be able to find the initial question: what is the origin of their speech? From there, Berganza will introduce all his masters (interpreted by Jorge Kent), who offer a portrait of current society: a scientist who experiments with animals, police officers who use police dogs, new rich people who have dogs protecting their wealth and, even, a university academic who uses the dog as a protector.
A string of characters appear mockingly on stage to show us a grotesque parade of current society. But, among all of them, there is a very strong and constant common thread: the wink to humans who are treated as animals who, currently, live in our society. The appearance on stage of a Spanish passport or police officers with vests bearing the ICE acronym prepares the ground for the final twist that takes place in the text (and about which I will say no more, so as not to commit any spoiler).
As Mayorga himself commented at the press conference, Rakel Camacho has given a meaning to the text of which he was not even aware. And this imprint of the director is perceived above all in this denunciation of the treatment of immigrants. In fact, the character of Berganza has a submissive character towards his masters: he adapts to what they need from him, completely setting aside his desires and his longings, and he does so out of pure instinct for survival. A very interesting double reading that gives this text a much fiercer and more brutal sociopolitical denunciation background.
The strength and weakness of the word
But, in addition to this reading, Mayorga's imprint is perceived in many other interventions of the characters. For example, there is a strong respect for the benevolence that Cervantes felt towards people and, although some personalities are pointed out, it is always done from a compassionate perspective: one should not speak to kill. This is Cipión's maxim and it is pronounced right at the beginning of the story. Words should not serve to hurt or accuse, they should serve for concord, understanding and the construction of a better world (or, at least, to try).
Respect for Cervantes is also read in the language used. And, in fact, some humorous comments are introduced that emphasize this choice: speaking with proparoxytones, having a language from another time... The comments about the way of speaking appear on stage and offer a wink to the spectator who can laugh at the occurrence.
One of the elements that I found most interesting about Palabra de perro is Cipión's constant reference to the power of the word. The word as a narrative of history, as a construction of truth. But the word can be manipulated, it can be mixed with fantasy, with expectations, with exaggerations of the truth. The double face of the word as an architect of time is recalled in most of the psychoanalyst dog's interventions, and this warning is vital for our society: the word has a lot of strength, but it is also very easy to manipulate. Like Cipión, we must be attentive to discourses and work on our critical spirit to know what to believe and what not to.
Mayorga proposes to stop philosophizing, to take that weight off this act, and to opt for murmuring.
A separate mention deserves the reference Mayorga makes about the act of philosophizing. Dogs stumble when trying to pronounce such a big, such superb, such important word. When we speak, we all tend to philosophize, but many times this dialogue is nothing more than a simple exchange of perspectives, without more depth or reflection than what the word itself allows. Then, Mayorga proposes to stop philosophizing, to take this weight off this act, and to opt for murmuring. An ingenious, fun, and very earthly proposal that dehumanizes these animals (or animalizes these humans).
The scenic truth of a cast in permanent play
Cecilia Solaguren plays a sublime Cipión. Despite being one of the characters with the least text, her presence is magnetic. From the first moment she appears on stage, we encounter a strange character, who moves between human and animal, between the sublime and the mundane. Her gestures, her diction, her movement across the stage are millimetered, contained, to draw this dog-psychoanalyst that Freud himself used to refer to himself (this is what Juan Mayorga confessed in this interview, recalling the "Spanish Society" of which Freud was a part).
Along with her, we have Jimmy Castro under the skin of Berganza. The actor creates a character totally suited to the personality of this dog submissive to his masters. A playful, energetic character with a more "dog-like" attitude than Cipión's. He scratches, sticks out his tongue, plays, and barks. But he also speaks. And his search for the cause of his speech will eventually lead him to the opposite: the search for the cause of his silence. The twist of this character is one of the most interesting in the play and gives it that political background so latent in Camacho's proposal.
Finally, Jorge Kent does a chameleon-like job. He slips into the skin of more than a dozen characters who move between Berganza's masters and the guards of the enclosure where the dogs are. These characters are the ones who provide the comic counterpoint, although, at times, this humorous intention feels a little forced. In some characters, Kent's interpretive comedy is too histrionic and there is a risk that the truth and power of the text may be lost a little. However, overall it works very well: it manages to bring a more relaxed touch to the drama told by Berganza and makes the audience enjoy a good dose of smiles.
Mayorga has returned to Cervantes to recover his essence, his language and his benevolent gaze towards life. He does so hand in hand with two talking dogs who, for one night, enjoy the power, pleasure and freedom that words bring to human beings. Are they talking animals? Or are they silenced humans? The debate is served on the Romea stage.