2008 Festival de Teatro Clásico de Almagro

)HVWLYDOGH7HDWUR&O£VLFRGH$OPDJUR 9LQFHQW0DUWLQ

Bulletin of the Comediantes, Volume 61, Number 1, 2009, pp. 153-165 (Review) 3XEOLVKHGE\%XOOHWLQRIWKH&RPHGLDQWHV DOI: 10.1353/boc.0.0001

For additional information about this article http://muse.jhu.edu/journals/boc/summary/v061/61.1.martin.html

Access provided by San Diego State University (20 Jul 2015 20:33 GMT)

Reviews_ __________________________________________________________________

2008 Festival de Teatro Clásico de Almagro Vincent Martin University of Delaware En 2008 el Festival de Almagro ofrece a las mujeres protagonizar sus historias, escribirlas, dirigirlas y recordar con agradecimiento a aquellas que lo han hecho estos últimos cuatrocientos años. —Emilio Hernández, Director of the Almagro Festival

This 31st edition of the Classical Theater Festival of Almagro (26 June-20 July 2008) paid homage to the key role of women in theater and in society, spotlighting female playwrights (Sor Juana and Feliciana Enríquez de Guzmán) and works particularly shaped by female characters (e.g., Tirso’s La prudencia en la mujer and Fernando de Rojas’s La Celestina). Several special events were also organized to tie into this focus on women. When all was said and done, 80,000 spectators had flocked to this rural village in La Mancha to see 50 international troupes present a total of 159 performances in 19 different spaces. In addition to theater performances, spectators enjoyed concerts, dance, storytelling, exhibitions, workshops for children and adults, the Jornadas de Teatro Clásico, and even a fashion show influenced by las clásicas which took place on a catwalk set up on the Plaza Mayor. Noticeably absent this year was the ever-popular street theater that, in recent years, has entertained the weekend audiences (Fridays and Saturdays) on the Plaza Mayor before the start of the “main events.” Sadly, street theater this year was reduced to the festival’s inauguration, Don Juan en los ruedos—“ópera popular de caballos, bailes y cantes”—and a dramatic “narración oral” by four women, cleverly titled Juego de damas; these public events took place on 26 and 27 June, respectively. The 8th annual Premio Corral de Comedias was presented to acclaimed British director Declan Donnellan and set designer Nick Ormerod, of Cheek by Jowl fame. Three of their plays were featured at this year’s festival, and, not surprisingly, all were box-office successes: Shakespeare’s Troilus

Bulletin of the Comediantes •

2009 Vol. 61 No. 1

153

___________________________________________________________________ Reviews

and Cressida (in English) and Twelfth Night (in Russian), and Racine’s Andromaque (in French). Any attempt to accurately record the entire festival would be quixotic, so as a representative sampling I have selected six of the plays that I had the privilege to attend. The highlight of this year’s festival—at least for this reviewer—was the powerful staging of Calderón’s La paz universal o El lirio y la azucena in Almagro’s Teatro Municipal (4-5 July). This ambitious production brought together the theater company Antiqua Escena, directed by Juan Sanz Ballesteros, the musical group (voice and instruments) La Grande Chapelle, directed by Albert Recaesens, and the Compañía de Danza Ana Yepes, directed and choreographed by Ana Yepes. If one of the greatest challenges faced by directors and artists when attempting to bring early modern theater to a postmodern audience is making the piece relevant and appealing, how much more difficult is that challenge when the play in question is an historico-political auto sacramental written for the madrileña feast of Corpus Christi in 1660 to celebrate the newly signed Treaty of the Pyrenees and the marriage of King Louis XIV to his Spanish cousin, María Teresa de Austria, daughter of Felipe IV? And yet, the relevance and timeliness of “universal peace” in 2008 were readily apparent. Audience members were given a very attractive 89-page “program,” which clearly explained the theme, allegory, and historical setting of the play, the use of music in the autos in general, and in this auto in particular, a scene-by-scene plot summary, a scene-by-scene breakdown of the music being performed by the live orchestra that surrounded the stage, and the entire text of Calderón’s auto, as well as other program-related items (cast of actors/characters, etc.). While it would have been impossible for the audience to read all this material in advance of the play, the brief introduction gave the necessary background for the visual allegories to come. The music, singing, and choreography of this production were superb. The opening scene was a musical invitation to enjoy the mística fiesta about to take place, followed by a dance battle of the two opposing forces, Spain and France. Each chorus performed a representative dance of their nation to music that also reflected each respective country, followed by the other chorus’s response to the provocation. At the end of the dance sequence, the two choruses came together, symbolizing the unity of France and Spain. Spectacular performances were given by all, but especially memorable were the acting talent of Esperanza Elipe, as the snake-haired Discordia (Figure 1), and the vocals and stage presence of mezzo-soprano Marisa Martins as Paz (see cover photo). Expert set designers and theater researchers Miguel Ángel Coso Marín and Juan Sanz Ballesteros, founders of Antiqua Escena, are true masters of early modern stagecraft, and it shows in every detail and at every moment of

154

Bulletin of the Comediantes •

2009 Vol. 61 No. 1

Reviews_ __________________________________________________________________

Figure 1.  La paz universal o El lirio y la azucena. L-R: Jorge Merin (Guerra), Esperanza Elipe (Discordia). Photo courtesy of the Festival de Teatro Clásico de Almagro.

their production. For the debut of this play in Cuenca in March 2008, they even offered didactic workshops on baroque stage machinery in Cuenca’s Teatro Auditorio. In Almagro, the stage space was cleverly divided to allow for different dimensions. All characters shared the stage as a politico-ritualistic arena, which featured two confronting platforms for each of the two courtly entourages. A “neutral” zone gave way to stage actions and battlefield “skirmishes.” Two large pulpits were mounted on either side of the stage for divine and allegorical interventions. And as a monumental centerpiece, a gold-leaf picture frame encompassed scenes from the past, as an impressive formulation of “theater within theater.” In Calderón’s original version, Discordia showed these scenes by means of carts on stage that opened to reveal dramatic visions. The audience in Almagro saw instead the stage transform into a moving painting, tableaux vivants. For the first staged scene, the curtain behind the picture frame was drawn to reveal Clodoveo (King Clovis), in the center of the painting, at the moment of his famous conversion to Christianity, and then recalling the fateful event accompanying his baptism. Appropriately, he seemed to be floating in midair. Discordia staged the rest of her impressive tableaux vivants in similar fashion. The visual metaphor of a picture frame was tremendously apropos, since Calderón’s text underscores at various moments the blending of painting and theater. Bucking the trend to cut lines and present a manipulated version of the

Bulletin of the Comediantes •

2009 Vol. 61 No. 1

155

___________________________________________________________________ Reviews

original early modern text, this production took on Calderón’s auto and allowed its poetic and visual beauty to exude in full form. Always challenging are the long speeches. In this case, Discordia’s 251-line speech to Guerra (ll. 249-500) was staged brilliantly, never running the risk of audience boredom. During this scene, the picture frame separated, and turned into Discordia’s lair. The demonic character performed pyrotechnics, flipped over tables, and performed a Catholic mass mixed with pagan rituals. The speech was saturated with visual symbolism, which played throughout the rest of the show. She placed on her hands two gloves—one red, one black—which would come to symbolize France (red) and Spain (black). In highly fluid motions, her hands distracted and mesmerized the audience, finally seizing two candles, and bringing them together as a visual foreshadowing of the peace treaty. The stunning wardrobe was the work of young Peruvian designer Pepe Corzo, with whom Antiqua Escena had collaborated in their excellent staging of Ruberto Chapí’s El rey que rabió, under the direction of Luis Olmos, at Madrid’s Teatro de la Zarzuela in spring 2007. It is clear that much study of Calderón’s auto and the staging of the period went into this sublime Manchegan production, but the creators also brought it to today’s audience through the use of modern props, such as newspapers (with front-page headlines announcing the Franco-Spanish peace treaty), a polaroid camera (Ocio was portrayed as an overweight American tourist), and even sunglasses (so that the characters could behold the splendor of Paz). A few glitches by the tech crew were spotted on opening night, and at times were distracting. Nevertheless, this performance was astonishing, and the message of universal peace resounded. At the Corral de Comedias (1-2 July), Mexico’s Instituto Nacional de Bellas Artes, under the superb orchestration of seasoned director José Solé, showed what true stage actors can do when given proper training and an excellent play. In spite of a customs fiasco that prevented their wardrobe, stage props, and instruments from being delivered from Mexico, this company’s debut of Sor Juana’s Los empeños de una casa was a veritable monument to raw acting talent at this year’s festival. Considering the fact that Sor Juana’s play is set in Toledo, and that this Mexican company was debuting the play in Almagro, Solé’s intention was both clear and bold: “imprimirle a nuestra puesta escénica, más que un ambiente español, un carácter novohispano,” an undertaking which would incorporate folding screens, the drinking of chocolate, the use of the indiginous huipil by aristocratic criollas, handmade musical instruments of the period (e.g., the teponaxtle), etc. Unfortunately, that intention was lost when the actors found themselves on a bare stage with the improvised costuming of blue jeans and black Festival t-shirts (men), or black dresses (women), and a few contemporary musical instruments

156

Bulletin of the Comediantes •

2009 Vol. 61 No. 1

Reviews_ __________________________________________________________________

that they were able to dig up in Almagro. The situation was explained to the audience at the onset of the performance, and when the show ended it was clear that every spectator had easily suspended disbelief and allowed the troupe of young Mexican actors to transport them to Sor Juana’s convoluted world of empeños and resolutions. The almost endless standing ovation was intense and well deserved. The weakest links in the cast were, ironically, the two leading ladies, María Fernanda del Solar (Doña Ana) and Renée Varsi (Doña Leonor), whose professional life in TV and film did not add up to good stage acting. This was certainly not the Leonor who, in Sor Juana’s text, can be read as a sort of alter ego of the Décima Musa. The true protagonists were the three highly talented female singers/musicians (Figure 2) and the two criados/graciosos, brilliantly played by Aleyda Gallardo (Celia [Figure 3]) and Carlos Orozco (Castaño). One can only assume that Solé cast Gallardo as Celia, and not as Doña Ana or Doña Leonor, to give some sort of similarity of style and parallel structure to the two damas. For his part, Orozco really camped it up for the crossdressing Castaño, which was even more comical and absurd when performed in jeans and t-shirt. Solé staged not only Sor Juana’s three acts, but also some of the festive elements that accompanied the original fiesta in honor of the viceroy and vicereine of New Spain: loa, letras, sainetes, sarao. Naturally, the entire

Figure 2.  Los empeños de una casa. L-R: Lucía Puente (Dicha), Diana Luna (Música), Abril Mayett (Fortuna), Óscar Ulises Cancino (Hernando). Photo courtesy of Roberto Blenda (www.blendaimage.com).

Bulletin of the Comediantes •

2009 Vol. 61 No. 1

157

___________________________________________________________________ Reviews

Figure 3.  Los empeños de una casa. Aleyda Gallardo (Celia). Photo courtesy of Roberto Blenda (www.blendaimage.com).

fiesta could not be mounted within the time constraints of twenty-first-century theater norms, but the incorporation of various music and dance pieces, expertly orchestrated and choreographed by Aurelio Tello and Alan Stark, respectively, brought the flavor of Sor Juana’s original composition to life. Upon the company’s return to Mexico, they were able to stage their elaborate production in a replica of Almagro’s Corral de Comedias, thanks to the set design and lighting of Arturo Nava. In spite of the technical setback in Almagro, the performance was an absolute success, and the group of young actors, led by a true master of theatrical arts, showed that sometimes a combination of talent and sheer determination (empeño) is all it takes to make great theater. At the Patio de Fúcares (9-13 July), director Helena Pimenta offered a fresh, and extraordinarily dynamic, twist to Lope’s La noche de San Juan, originally written for the Midsummer Night’s festivities in Madrid in 1631. Pimenta chose to do away with the aspects of courtly celebration in the original, and to teleport the characters into the nineteenth century; but she maintained the metatheatricality underscored by that original festive context. The result was the creation of a representational space that becomes, in her words, “el espacio mágico en el que los personajes tienen la oportunidad de vivir experiencias que su vida cotidiana ha limitado.” Under Pimenta’s direction, the highly energized Joven Compañía Nacional de Teatro Clásico met the challenge with verve and technical skill. Ángel Galán played the piano just off stage (stage left), in full view of the audience, thus providing live accompaniment and nineteenth-century ambience to some excellent choreography. The play opened and closed with effervescent singing and dancing, with a rhythm of three claps and three foot stomps, (almost?)

158

Bulletin of the Comediantes •

2009 Vol. 61 No. 1

Reviews_ __________________________________________________________________

inviting audience participation. Superb costuming also played a key role in this “translation,” and it helped to set the mood of the production. The chorus of troublemaking celebrators had lost much of their clothing through their late-night carousing, thereby adding an extra touch of verisimilitude to the mix. Pimenta’s guiding principle was that of minimalism and simplicity. The set design was a multifunctional conceptual piece that was easily spun around, as needed, by the actors themselves, thus permitting quick and fluid scene changes, including those between indoors and outdoors (Figure 4). The split-level dimension of this apparatus gave visual support to social hierarchies, such as master-servant relations, or social boundaries, such as the private space of the dama. The hinged square served as both window, as when the selfless Don Juan gazes out pensively, and mirror, thus capturing the egotistical Don Luis’s self-reflection. The lighting, in combination with the period wardrobe, at times gave the impression that we were looking at a daguerreotype. Casting was also first-rate, though my female students mentioned afterward that they were initially disappointed with the nerdy, quirky Don Juan, expecting instead a Tenorio for the love interest. But the

Figure 4.  La noche de San Juan. Top: Eva Rufo (Leonor). Bottom L-R: Alejandro Saá (Don Juan), David Lázaro (Tello), Rebeca Hernando (Inés). Photo courtesy of the Festival de Teatro Clásico de Almagro.

Bulletin of the Comediantes •

2009 Vol. 61 No. 1

159

___________________________________________________________________ Reviews

supreme acting skills of Alejandro Saá (Don Juan) and Eva Rufo (Doña Leonor) won them over in the end. In a society that repressed its women, the two damas use willpower to find freedom and make their dreams come true on this night of festivities and transgressions, thus escaping from the fate imposed upon them by their brothers. As Pimenta states: “La noche de San Juan como gran metáfora de la trasgresión, de la búsqueda de lo desconocido, se erige aquí en un personaje más.” And thus did this staging of Lope’s classic fit in so well with this festival’s focus on women. The two plays performed by the CNTC’s veteran company at the Hospital de San Juan were Calderón’s Las manos blancas no ofenden (27 June-6 July) and Guillén de Castro’s El curioso impertinente (10-20 July). Las manos blancas was directed by Eduardo Vasco, Director of the CNTC, and, predictably, the lead role (Federico) was given to Joaquín Notario, who season after season bellows and spits his lines, whatever the author’s intended tone or nuance. The show opened (and closed) with a very intriguing song and movement sequence, as a palace play within the palace play, the “metacharacters” capturing their “metaudience’s” attention by extending their right hand (a constant visual symbol throughout this production) and exhaling a deep breath—“¡Ahhhhhh!”—followed by a song (“Los años floridos…”) with live accompaniment of harp, baroque violin, and baroque cello. The performance of Las manos blancas, however, lacked the vitality and conviction seen in the groups of young actors mentioned above. Calderón’s text offers tremendous opportunities for actors and directors to play; for example, César and Lisarda are in drag during most of the action. Even more interesting is the fact that César, when planning to reveal his secret, is dressed as a woman (Celia), who is dressed as a man to entertain guests at a masquerade. He goes through his lines as both César and Celia, but the difference, at least in the performance I saw, was almost unnoticeable. Unlike Carlos Orozco’s rendition of Castaño, in Sor Juana’s Los empeños de una casa, Pepa Pedroche (Lisarda) and Miguel Cubero (César), under Vasco’s direction, did not fully explore the ludic possibilities that Calderón would have surely expected of his actors: voice changes, facial expressions, gestures, posture, gait, etc., were all kept to a fairly neutral level of gender inflection. Also lamentable during the 3 July performance was the momentary blackout that the town of Almagro experienced. Montse Díez (Serafina) was onstage reciting her lines when the power grid failed. From my third-row seat I could clearly hear her whisper to her interlocutor, after only a second of darkness: “Mejor parar.” The two quickly scampered offstage, just as the lights came back on; the whole ordeal lasted no more than five seconds. The two actors came back onto the stage, but they did not incorporate their entrance into their scene; instead, they reassumed their previous blocking and, with a loud clap of Díez’s (and not Serafina’s) hands, as if in rehearsal, signaled their

160

Bulletin of the Comediantes •

2009 Vol. 61 No. 1

Reviews_ __________________________________________________________________

return to their characters, and Serafina began to recite her lines again, from a bit before where she previously broke off. Ironically, one of my students later asked me if that mishap could be considered breaking the fourth wall. In hindsight, perhaps it was Díez telling Serafina: “Mejor parar.” The set design, on the other hand, was conceptually very good. Calderón sets his play on Italy’s Po River, which almost takes on character-like qualities. Vasco filled the gigantic stage of the Hospital with a three-step platform and backdrop of a blue-green hue as a symbolic landscape marker. When Lisarda throws Serafina’s jewel into the river, for example, she throws it downstage toward the audience, rather than upstage toward the actual set. This type of conceptual use of scenery can and did work quite effectively. Another example was the set for Serafina’s house, made up of two flats placed on pivots, which allowed them to swing like doors. At one point, the actors assisted in lowering and setting more pieces to these flats, which transformed into a mini proscenium stage: curtain, lights, and all. This design was created as part of the masquerade that Serafina was hosting, and where César was supposed to reveal his secret. This play-within-a-play technique is heightened when Enrique enters and reads the mysterious letter he was given at the

Figure 5.  Las manos blancas no ofenden. L-R: Pepa Pedroche (Lisarda), Miguel Cubero (César). Photo courtesy of the Compañía Nacional de Teatro Clásico.

Bulletin of the Comediantes •

2009 Vol. 61 No. 1

161

___________________________________________________________________ Reviews

masquerade, detailing Lisarda’s whereabouts. At this moment, Enrique was lit up—as if in a theater!—by these mini lights. Vasco clearly transmitted Calderón’s metatheatricality and modernity, and, in spite of some flaws, the CNTC’s impressive resources always assure a grand production with spectacular costuming; in this case, Lorenzo Caprile was responsible for the beautiful wardrobe designs. Natalia Menéndez’s direction of El curioso impertinente was a horse of a different color. This was an impressive adaptation of Guillén’s text, and the technical aspects of the play were flawless. The director and the actors collaborated to create lively, credible characters who never ceased to capture the audience’s imagination as we were presented with the dark themes of deception, dishonor, and betrayal. Nuria Mencía (Camila) certainly gave one of the most spectacular performances at this year’s festival (Figure 6). The minimal lighting underscored the darkness of the play; the edges of the stage were kept completely black, while different hues enhanced the set according to the mood of the scene or character. During the humorous duke and duchess scenes, for example, the lights washed the stage in a warm orange tone. But during Anselmo’s monologue in which he discovers that Lotario allegedly wants him killed, the stage went black, with the exception of one cool blue spotlight. Anselmo crept up to stand in the spotlight, and spoke frantically into the microphone placed on the front edge of the stage. The

Figure 6.  El curioso impertinente. Nuria Mencía (Camila). Photo courtesy of the Festival de Teatro Clásico de Almagro.

162

Bulletin of the Comediantes •

2009 Vol. 61 No. 1

Reviews_ __________________________________________________________________

effect was chilling, and gave the appearance that we were truly glancing into Anselmo’s thoughts. The rich costuming, designed by María Araujo, and the live music—violin and cello—complemented the pattern of chiaroscuro; the vivid combination of black with a splash of red in the wardrobe (and lipstick) was a particularly effective visual symbol. The set design, created by Joaquim Roy, was nothing short of brilliant. The style was modern, combining harsh angles in a stunning geometric aesthetic that seemed to personify secrecy and darkness with its multiple and simultaneous spaces that revealed nooks and crannies, both physical and psychological. As in Helena Pimenta’s direction of La noche de San Juan, the characters onstage rolled the large conceptual set around. But in this piece, the characters also spied on conversations taking place on center stage, eavesdropping from the sidelines and reacting to the drama; they then rotated the set at the appropriate moment. Outstanding use of this magnificent construction was made in Camila’s flight from the duke’s house and Culebro’s harnessed ascent to the rooftop to visit Leonela. The final scene of the play was a stupendous coup de grâce that combined all the aforementioned aspects of this staging—well-honed acting skills, excellent use of set design, live music, costuming, lighting, etc.—for an intense finale that thoroughly pleased the many ticket-holders at the Hospital de San Juan. For another sizzling love triangle in Italy—this time in Naples—which also explores the themes of love and power, the young madrileña company Rakatá staged Lope’s El perro del hortelano at the Corral de Comedias (13-14 July). Spectators in Almagro will recall Rakatá’s highly original rendition of Tirso’s Desde Toledo a Madrid in 2006, also at the Corral de Comedias. This year, it was the Royal Shakespeare Company’s Laurence Boswell who directed the young actors on their journey through the classic text, and he did so with fine attention to the poetry. It should be noted that the asesor de verso for this production was Vicente Fuentes, who is also the asesor de verso for the CNTC. Boswell, who calls this “Lope’s finest comedy,” has previously staged both this play and Cervantes’s Pedro de Urdemalas for the Royal Shakespeare Company, in their English translations. The simple set design was appropriate (and necessary) for the Corral, and Boswell took textual cues to create interesting new takes on the various characters. One such example is the dialogue between Conde Federico and Leonido at the opening of the second act. Boswell transforms Federico’s “¡Ay si la pudiese hablar” (l. 1195) from a matter of nerves in the face of confronting his cousin Diana on matters concerning love, into a question of his own sexual identity/preference, clearly indicating that this Federico (Rodrigo Arribas) was unable to speak to Diana because he is unmistakably gay; Federico’s long blonde hair, “feminine” voice, and very queenie gestures revealed the count’s overarching predicament. The original text allows such play, and Boswell ran with it. Blanca Oteyza,

Bulletin of the Comediantes •

2009 Vol. 61 No. 1

163

___________________________________________________________________ Reviews

on the other hand, played a Diana that was both confusing and distracting, distancing herself from the character so intricately portrayed by Lope. At the end of Act 2, for example, when Diana smacks Teodoro and draws blood, a clear symbol of the social barrier separating their love, Boswell’s Diana embraces the bloody kerchief, moaning and screaming as if in a Bacchic frenzy. This awkward end to the second act, structurally a pivotal moment, was certainly anticlimactic, and rendered Tristán’s joke in the final scene almost out of place: “Pagó la sangre y te ha hecho / doncella por las narices.” A. David Kossoff points out in his critical edition the double nature of Diana’s character when she offers to pay for the bloodied lienzo: “El papel ofrece a la actriz grandes problemas y grandes posibilidades.” Boswell and Oteyza did not convincingly work out those grandes problemas—the combination of playfulness and severity—and one wonders why the director did not cast Elia Muñoz (Dorotea), the more competent stage actress, as Diana, since she could certainly navigate through those problems. The underlying myth of Icarus was intelligently captured through lighting and costuming, which superbly complemented the evolving storyline. Boswell also took advantage of the dramatic space in a number of ways, including

Figure 7.  El perro del hortelano. L-R: Blanca Oteyza (Diana), Alejandra Sáenz (Anarda). Photo courtesy of the Festival de Teatro Clásico de Almagro.

164

Bulletin of the Comediantes •

2009 Vol. 61 No. 1

Reviews_ __________________________________________________________________

the opening scene in which Teodoro and Tristán run offstage down a ramp into the audience and out the Corral entrance. At one point, the love triangle and social hierarchy was given clear visualization by placing Diana on the balcony, and Teodoro and Marcela on stage, one on either side of the duchess, and of course, below her. Once, Tristán even enters stage by jumping from the musician’s area on the second level. Boswell kept the pace fast and interesting, and no intermission was needed. In spite of a very poor sound system that used horrendous playback, and in spite of the “roadies” sitting in the fourth row, decked out in Rakatá t-shirts, who led inappropriate applause after each scene, and whose forced laughter was clearly intended to provoke the audience into laughing along, throughout, Rakatá’s talented young group managed to give an excellent performance, with some truly spectacular moments. In all, Boswell proved himself a strong director, in Bloomian terms, by directing against Pilar Miró’s brilliant film adaptation of Lope’s classic, and creating some novel interpretations of a well-known text. The month-long festival in Almagro is clearly the non plus ultra for comediantes everywhere, and each year we see new and innovative versions of the classics we think we know so well. These are some of the world’s most talented artists (actors, directors, technicians) who make these plays come to life, touching us with their art, inviting us to rethink our received ideas through their performances of canonical and non-canonical texts. This year’s festival, with much cooler nights than I ever recall experiencing in Almagro in July, gave us much food for thought, focusing on the role of women in the theater and in society. And this normally sleepy town in the heart of La Mancha is the perfect venue to discuss these and other similar questions with some of the tens of thousands of visitors who flock here every summer, and with good reason.

Bulletin of the Comediantes •

2009 Vol. 61 No. 1

165