‘A good life’: compassion, tenderness, and firmness

In these days rich in farces, parodies, satires, and documentaries, something tells us that A Good Life, by Carolina África, is a different kind of performance. The secluded Sala de la Princesa, at the María Guerrero Theater, has been transformed into a hospital room. In one of its beds lies a young woman, with a face reflecting her circumstances. In the other, an octogenarian dozes. We are in the midst of Filomena, in January 2021.

Read more The theater and dance premieres of the week

In the course of the interaction between the two patients and a nurse attendant (all three portrayed with a naturalism that is surprising for an audience accustomed to simulation), the adverse circumstances faced by public healthcare are clearly reflected, as well as the drive of those increasing their share of the healthcare business and the decline in the quality of services caused by the privatization of kitchen, cleaning, and laundry services.

Speaking truthfully about the particular, about what happened to her after giving birth to her second child, África lays out a precise map of the affections of the protagonists of her comedy, but also offers a diagnosis of the state of healthcare that is more eloquent, sensitive, and moving than any report. And she serves it with great humor.

Read more The employers’ association returns to negotiations to reform severance pay and insists on its rejection of increasing it

A Good Life does not stem from bookish culture nor from a detailed documentary collection. Nor is it autofiction, but a piece of reality, skillfully reworked, like Madame Bovary, which is both a novel and a precise document of the ills of its time. The Madrid-based author and director could lecture, but prefers to ground matters of general interest through three characters who reflect her own experience. She herself charmingly and vividly plays the young hospitalized woman. Ahimsa gives the elderly Teresa a mix of humanity, helplessness, and tenderness that touches the viewer like a fine rain. Jorge Kent precisely shapes a character of absolute empathy, dedication, and tact. They form a perfectly tuned trio (violin, viola, and harpsichord). The standing ovation they received was as sincere as the tears many in the audience wiped away upon leaving. There must be some way for this production of the National Drama Center not to die on June 21.

Read more The umpteenth return of Marc Márquez, who only thinks about recovering his physical condition