A heated and harrowing ‘House of Bernarda Alba’ at GALA Hispanic Theatre
Feb 09, 2026
The great 20th-century Spanish poet and playwright Federico García Lorca dared to give expression to radical themes such as then forbidden homosexual love and, most especially, the hidden lives of women in the country’s traditionally patriarchal and, particularly Franco’s, fascist society. Som
e of the world’s greatest actresses have sought to embody his central female characters, including Spain’s own, the phenomenal Nuria Espert. Now comes GALA Hispanic Theatre’s Luz Nicolás to give DC one of Lorca’s most original creations — the thorny and fierce matriarch Bernarda Alba. It’s the role of a lifetime.
It is no small coincidence that Lorca should be the voice of the hour. A known socialist, Lorca had his works banned under Franco’s regime. In August 1936, he was arrested and assassinated by the dictator’s thugs. Despite decades of searching, Lorca’s remains have never been found.
Luz Nicolás as Bernarda Alda in ‘The House of Bernarda Alda.’ Photo by Daniel Martínez.
The current GALA production once again proves the prescience of fearless art and artists, for on the very week of the opening of La casa de Bernarda Alba, the American President put out a statement on his social media embracing the title of Dictator, adding “America needs one.” GALA Theatre has always been at the helm of DC’s vibrant bilingual, multinational Cultural Corridor, and this production should send up a flare to women in our community and their allies to respond to whether America does indeed need a dictator — or indeed succumb to repression of any kind. This Bernarda Alba stands as a warning.
Grisele González’s set design of a spare, ultra-modern red box becomes a dominant character in its own right. Red the color of passion, which when repressed throbs and screams all the more. Red the color of a womb-like mausoleum to which the generations of women of Bernarda’s casa have been consigned and locked in to die. Red the color of blood.
Director José Zayas’ staging is likewise spare. Black, straight-backed chairs lined against the red wall are pulled out as needed in different configurations. Most props and business are pantomimed. The obligatory sewing and embroidering of women in mourning following the death of their patriarch becomes a choreographed ritual of arms sweeping in and out. There is a particularly potent symbolic gesture when Nicolás as the obsessively protective matriarch swallows a key, determined to keep her daughters from straying, choosing rather that they suffocate together in her airless house.
Hailey LaRoe’s lighting design keeps the red world aglow — like an oven — then allows that world to darken as the tragedy unfolds.
Nicolás in the title role is ramrod straight and all reined in; she has a cane but, rather than leaning on it, wields it as a weapon to threaten her daughters into submission, a symbol of her absolute authority. I could not help but think of Chinese women in a bygone society who colluded with the patriarchy, for they were the ones who cruelly bound the feet of young girls, breaking bones and forcing them to hobble like cripples the rest of their lives. Alba’s daughters refer to their mother as having the face of a jaguar. Certainly, Nicolás’ aim is not to mirror a physicality of the feline predator. But again, the symbolism is powerful, and let it be noted that there have been cases reported of jaguars kept in cages who have devoured their young.
TOP LEFT: María Coral and Anna Malavé; TOP RIGHT: Evelyn Rosario Vega (back), María del Mar Rodríguez (front, center), and Ixchel; ABOVE LEFT: María Coral, Anna Malavé (seated on chair), and Ixchel; ABOVE RIGHT: Giselle González and María Coral, in ‘The House of Bernarda Alda.’ Photos by Daniel Martínez.
The other actresses prove to be an able ensemble but function more like a corps de ballet than fully three-dimensional characters. Even the young rebel Adela, played by the physically compelling María Coral, seems more like a moth beating its wings to escape to the outdoors than someone in a viable relationship who has any real options to escape this household. This is clearly an intentional stylistic choice by the director.
There are two characters who break out of the box, if only fleetingly. One is Poncia, and it is not insignificant that it is the servant who shows resilience to survive this mausoleum existence. In the role, Evelyn Rosario Ponce watches and only occasionally intervenes to protect one of Bernarda’s daughters. Ponce exhibits both strength and a sense of humor, and her distinctive, relaxed physicality embodies someone from a distinctly lower class who has more freedom and self-expression in such a repressive society.
Actress Alicia Kaplan also captured my full attention, especially as the daughters’ abuela, Maria Josefa. On the surface, the woman has gone batty and must be kept locked up in another part of the house for her own safety. But in two delicious cameo appearances, she portrays a flirtatious, emotionally expressive woman, even one uncannily savvy. She demonstrates a creative kind of resistance.
Gala’s production is thought-provoking on many levels, and Lorca’s poetic language, as well as his dramatic examination of the fate of women under a repressive society, should give us pause. The playwright’s three acts compressed into one harrowing, uninterrupted journey is well worth seeing.
Running Time: 90 minutes with no intermission.
The House of Bernarda Alba plays through March 1, 2026, with showtimes on Thursdays, Fridays, and Saturdays at 8 pm and Sundays at 2 pm at GALA Hispanic Theatre, 333 14th St NW, Washington, DC. Regular tickets range from $27 to $52. Discounted tickets are available for $35 (seniors 65+, military, groups 10+) and $25 (under 25). For tickets and more details, go online or call (202) 234-7174.
The production is in Spanish with English surtitles.
GALA Theatre is fully accessible, with an elevator and wheelchair seating. Validated parking ($4) is available at the Giant garage on Park Road NW, with additional parking at the Target garage. GALA is one block from the Columbia Heights Metro (Green/Yellow lines).
The playbill is online here (scroll down).
The House of Bernarda AlbaDirector: José Zayas, Composer Original Music Sound Designer: Koki Lortkipanidze, Scene Designer: Grisele González, Lighting Designer: Hailey Laroe, Costume Designer: Rukiya Henry-Fields, Fight Choreographer: Lorraine Ressegger-SloneCAST: Luz Nicolás, Evelyn Rosario Ponce, María del Mar Rodríguez, María Coral, Grisele González, Ana Malavé, Ixchel, Alicia Kaplan.
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