In 1920s Andalusia, a young bride is torn between entering a sensible marriage with someone she does not love and running off with her former lover, now married to her cousin. But this is not just her choice to make, and she knows that neither will be without consequences. Beneath the surface, generational vendettas between the three families involved threaten to end in violence.
Those reading Spanish may recognise Federico García Lorca’s 1932 folk tragedy Blood Wedding (Bodas de sangre) from their reading lists. I, however, was unprepared for the visceral intensity of the opening scene. The Bridegroom (Gilon Fox) asks his mother for a knife to cut olives in his vineyard, only for The Mother (Siena Jackson-Wolfe) to remind him of the murders that claimed her husband and second son. This violence haunts their community, and is one that The Bridegroom himself will not only suffer but become complicit in as the eternal Moon (Lucía Mayorga) watches over them.
As their names indicate, the characters in Blood Wedding are archetypes, representing the many individuals trapped within webs of familial ties and social conventions. The Bride (Thalia Kermisch) and her former lover Leonardo Felix (Gillies Macdonald), separated by circumstance, try to enact their agency by clinging to their love, only to be torn apart once more. Though Kermisch and Macdonald do convey this struggle through their delightful performances, it is Fox as The Bridegroom who really shines, portraying a man consumed by unrequited love. Watching him enact the transformation from a hopeful suitor to a man willing to kill for vengeance was fascinating. Equally memorable is Rohan Joshi as The Father, delivering his exchanges with The Mother (Jackson-Wolfe) with dry wit, to the amusement of the audience.
This production of Blood Wedding is steeped in music and dance like few plays I have seen before, which makes the cast’s convincing performances all the more impressive. Almost all of the cast sings and dances in multiple scenes, befitting the joy and celebration of a wedding. Rebekah Devlin (The Maid) especially stands out here, twirling and simultaneously singing with a voice so clear that I was hoping she would burst into song again whenever she entered the stage. This is also true for Mayorga (The Moon), with her ghostly solo performance heralding the tragic events to follow.
As such, and with more than ten performers on stage at times, it was impressive that technical issues were limited to a few microphone problems – on opening night, no less. Similarly, it was understandable that not all of the cast would be able to sing equally well. There were some slightly off-tune notes and missed cues, which (oddly enough) blended in quite well as they complemented the atmosphere of a large, cheerful family gathering. However, for more serious moments, this did diminish their overall impact.
Elsa Vass-de-Zomba’s flamenco-inspired original score, was performed by a live band. The piano (Erin Black), guitar (Kit Renshaw-Hammond), viola (Joshua Lam), saxophone (Cameron Spruce), cello (Miriam Alsop) and percussion (Peter Hardisty) added to the overarching festive yet foreboding atmosphere of the first act, the creation of which was perhaps one of the productions’ greatest strengths, as it perfectly offset the eery and threatening mood of the second.
With the original play’s Spanish language and Andalusian setting considered central to the story by many, I was eager to see how the production would adapt the story for an English audience. Emma Nihill Alcorta, director and translator, has chosen to preserve Loca’s lyricism by interweaving her English translation with Spanish lines, producing a stunning adaptation of the play that conveys the original’s passion and setting yet remains accessible to an English audience. Thankfully for all playgoers who, like me, cannot claim to remember much of their GCSE Spanish, surtitles provided English translations for all Spanish dialogue and song.
Unfortunately, it was the play’s final scene in which tension slightly declined. The escalation of the stakes from an interpersonal conflict to a societal one, which Blood Wedding had clearly been building up to, did not fully come across in the final tragic scene. Despite Kermisch’s overall solid performance, the final scene, in which The Bride asks the grieving Mother (Siena Jackson-Wolfe) for permission to cry alongside her, fails to elevate the narrative, as The Bride ultimately seems less like a woman caught in the clutches of fate and more like an indecisive individual fatally driven by her impulses.
Though heartfelt emotion resonates from Kermisch’s and especially Jackson-Wolfe’s performances, I was not the only one left slightly perplexed: “Okay, so why did she marry him?”, another playgoer remarked as they were leaving the Oxford Playhouse, referring to The Bride marrying The Bridegroom only to run off with Leonardo Felix and later refuse the blame for the bloodshed this provoked. I cannot deny that I asked myself the same question. In this production, at least, The Bride’s sorrow felt more like personal grievance than societal indictment. Whether this is a fault of the production, Lorca’s play as a whole, or a shortcoming of my own emotional capacity, I cannot say.
Ultimately, however, Blood Wedding succeeds in presenting the conflicts at the core of Lorca’s tragedy, thanks to its atmospheric storytelling, rewarding bilingual approach, and strong cast performances, which outshine the production’s flaws. Full Moon Theatre’s creative approach to this classic Spanish tale makes it a vibrant addition to the Oxford Playhouse’s current programme and well worth a watch.
[Blood Wedding, a production by Full Moon Theatre, is running at the Oxford Playhouse, 4th-7th June 2025]