“If I am to lose sleep for a night, then let it bloody well at least be over a painting by Goya”
And obtuse really is the word. Rodrigo García’s one-man play, translated here by William Gregory, follows a father railing against the state of the world and its materialistic concerns, who decides to blow his life savings on a road trip with his two sons. He plans to take them to the Prado in Madrid to break in and stare at Goya paintings all night long, the only slight problem is that they would rather to go to Disneyland.
Faced with no stage directions from the writer, a director can let their imagination run wild and Jude Christian’s production is bursting with imagination and innovation. The opening sequence is a gorgeous, surrealist dream that Fly Davis’ set design facilitates magnificently as Joshua Pharo’s lighting swirls around evocatively. And Steffan Rhodri delivers the monologue with a wonderfully warm-eyed twinkle, coping admirably with what Christian throws at him.
For his two sons are played by two piglets, who skitter, squeal and (on this night at least) shit all over the stage. It’s a brilliantly bonkers decision and one that casts the paternal relationship in an entirely new light, not least when for a snack Rhodri sticks a rasher in a pan and proceeds to his bacon sarnie with the ‘kids’ in full view. But that is Goya in a nutshell, daring and densely layered, cynical and comically dazzling, powerful, porcine, poetic.
Running time: 50 minutes (without interval)
Booking until 29th March
Labels: Rodrigo García, Steffan Rhodri, William Gregory