Review: The House of Bernarda Alba - Sewell Barn Theatre (09.10.2025)

Review by April Nash

Federico Garcia Lorca’s final, searing play, The House of Bernarda Alba, is a timeless and visceral reminder of how social conservatism violently clashes with the need for personal freedom. Written just months before Lorca’s own tragic murder in 1936, the play's intensity is perfectly captured in Director Sabrina Poole’s production at the Sewell Barn.

The atmosphere is present from the moment the audience enters, thanks to a well-designed set that immediately immerses the viewer in the main room of the household for the duration of the evening. In the centre, a portrait watching over the stage (and us, the audience) brilliantly anticipates the drama to come in the opening scene: a family funeral that ushers in eight years of mandatory mourning. Bernarda Alba's house is barely a home; it is an institution that functions as both a convent and prison, embodying the deep-rooted rural conservatism that holds its occupants captive.

Sally Krykant is a devastating force as the tyrannical matriarch, Bernarda, who dominates the stage every time she enters. She is the chilling embodiment of class obsession and iron-willed discipline, mercilessly cruel and abusive to her five daughters in the name of honour and keeping up appearances. Krykant's unwavering performance makes the sisters’ struggles for identity and independence utterly understandable; they don’t know how to be anything but harsh to one another under her shadow.

The most nuanced and compelling performance of the evening comes from Jan Farrar as the long-serving housekeeper, Poncia. Farrar brings great range to this pivotal character, a servant who is both complicit in the repression and seemingly aware of the tragedy unfolding. Poncia continually treads the line between busybody and reluctant conscience, clearly caring for the fate of the family but all whilst expressing a clear desire to escape her involvement.

The five sisters, now in their 20s and 30s, are all distinct, despite their shared repression. Jo Parker-Sessions (Angustias) sits at the centre of the main conflict, her engagement to the village's most handsome man fuelling the envy and frustration of her siblings, particularly the passionately rebellious youngest sister, Adela (Emma Smith). Parker-Sessions was incredibly watchable (and my personal favourite of the sisters), with a wonderful nuanced performance - my eye was drawn to her in every scene she was in.

At times I felt like there could be a bit more range shown in the handful of the other sisters, there was a bit of reliance on shouting and the bursting into tears in a couple of places felt rushed, rather than really holding for a moment of emotion before the break - but all maintained clear characters and excellent delivery of the direction.

A few key moments of respite beautifully highlighted the family’s dynamic. The sisters' brief, sincere giggling around the table at Poncia's whispered tales of her husband is a truly lovely moment, showcasing just how dysfunctional their lives are the rest of the time. The other moments came from the elderly, dementia-coded mother, Maria Josefa (Joy Davidson), who is mostly kept locked away. Davidson’s brief but sincere appearances are extremely charming, if very bittersweet.

Overall, this is an excellent production that powerfully stages the inevitable explosion of repression and generational trauma. It is a compelling play - and the irony that even without a single man on stage, the consequences of the patriarch still claims the final, painful victory. The House of Bernarda Alba continues at the Sewell Barn until 18 October.