Madness in Valencia
Trafalgar Studios, London
Love is madness and madness is love. That is perhaps not all we know on earth, but it is enough to form the basis of a comedy set largely in a lunatic asylum. Lope de Vega was a contemporary of Cervantes. Indeed he is mentioned in Don Quixote as a literary rival. The compliment is repaid by de Vega by having one of the asylum inmates – a philosopher – believe he is Spain’s most famous novelist. Further Don Quixote themes are found in Madness in Valencia when the two central lovers – Floriano and Erifila – are at the happiest when playing chivalric characters and this they can only do after being certified as insane. The play opens with Floriano in trouble. He has killed a nobleman – 10th in line to the throne, no less – and needs to hide. His friend suggests he feigns lunacy and go into the madhouse. Erifila then appears with her lover, having eloped together. But love’s illusion disappears as they quarrel, and he robs her of her dress and any other possessions she has. Seeing this woman in underwear only, the keeper of the asylum decides she is mad and promptly locks her away.
Both love and madness are fantasies. Love brings with it jealousy, rage, possessiveness and betrayal. Madness – if anyone committed to the asylum is truly mad – paradoxically brings freedom. It is only the mad who can really tell the truth. And, of course, as they are supposed to be mad, no one believes them.
Is this a gentle rejoinder then to the Spain of the late 16th and early 17th century where heresy was being rooted out and a uniformity of belief and behaviour was being attempted?
What is striking about this production is how post-modern Lope de Vega was all those hundreds of years ago. You are reminded that this is not real life but a play. The ending can change – the characters can be given different lovers. They are, after all, actors – and actors can improvise or interact with the audience.
This is a version by David Johnston, who a few years ago translated the superb The Dog in the Manger, also by de Vega. Here Johnston has transformed the original script, “reallocating lines, combining characters and playing with form”.
And yet the play is not gripping throughout. Perhaps the reason for that is, at times, the pace is simply too frenetic – the characters do not pause enough for the audience to be sufficiently engaged with their fate. The fact that so many of the cast swoon in love is a central point, but it nonetheless gives a touch of sameness to the action.
One memorable moment has the keeper and a couple of the inmates collecting in the streets for the asylum. Valencia is justifiably proud of its madhouse but is damned if it is going to pay for it. More of that would have been welcome.
Yet there is a lot to like. All the cast put in good performances. I particularly enjoyed Lawrence Fuller as the asylum keeper, cleverly showing that the one character who may be mad is not an inmate, but the person designated to guard the insane.
Last year saw a version of Calderon’s Life is a Dream. Now we have another of the writers of the Spanish golden age. It’s a reminder that at the time Marlowe, Shakespeare and Jonson were writing, Spain had its own greats. Keep these revivals coming.
Richard Woulfe
