National Theatre of Albania, premiere 18th November 2024
Shelagh Stephenson’s 1997 play, adapted for the stage from a radio drama of the same name, is a powerful piece that shows how an abused person becomes an abuser and how difficult it is to break the cycle across generations. The play depicts the lives of a family living under the cruel control of Billy, who brutally, physically and sexually abuses his wife Mary and his two daughters. “Let it end here, let it end with us! I don’t want grandchildren,” Mary cries at the end of the play.
Directed by Altin Basha, the production’s dominant tone is one of sadness – deep sadness. Rozi Kostani plays Mary, a deeply suffering, repressed, and traumatized mother. Kostani infuses the character with remarkable depth, transcending the role of a mere victim to become a silent, resilient heroine. Meanwhile, the two daughters—Janet, played by Fabiana Proi, and Susan, artfully brought to life by Xhoana Karaj—serve as extensions of their mother’s broken will. It was clear that the three actresses had collaborated to create a tightly-knit, yet more importantly, believable trio. This strong dynamic between mother and daughters gave the role of the father even greater antagonistic weight, a role masterfully executed by Dritan Borici.
Basha’s decision to combine the roles of the detective, psychiatrist, and lawyer into a single character, portrayed by Ervis Saliasi, was a brilliant choice. The fact that this investigative figure, constantly seeking answers, was seated among the audience in the hall added depth to the piece. It made the performance more poignant, as it suggested that if the audience adopted his perspective to understand the victims’ worldview, they might not be complicit in the “fifth face of silence.” It conveyed this message in an elegant way. Similarly, the character of Billy begins the play seated in the audience before moving onto the stage. This deliberate choice, mirroring the investigative character’s positioning, serves to provoke the audience: could Billy be any of us, or could he be someone alarmingly close to us within our own familiar circles?
Basha skilfully maintains a delicate balance in the portrayal of each character. He preserved and accentuated Billy’s lengthy monologues, which detailed the abuse and humiliation he endured from his mother over the years, underscoring the haunting subtext that a person can become a monster, regardless of their gender or role as a mother or father. Borici’s performance as Billy was chilling, bringing to life a character that was both ambiguous and menacing in its power. The actor/s performances, coupled with the director’s approach, were seamlessly aligned, working together to convey both the tragic events and the pervasive atmosphere of the play.
The set design, by Divni Gushta, presents an almost surreal space—dimensionless yet simultaneously multi-dimensional. The room was intricately woven with red nets, a visual paradox that symbolized the physical and psychological constraints imposed on the characters. The costume design, too, embraced simplicity, featuring everyday elements that subtly reflected the characters’ reality. As the play progressed, all three women eventually unified in vibrant red attire. This transformation, occurring near the play’s conclusion, left the audience contemplating whether the red symbolized blood, courage, or perhaps both.
The violence is stark, the persecution chilling, and the air was thick with a palpable blend of fear and guilt. Basha masterfully crafts an atmosphere that fully immerses the audience in this harrowing reality. Yet, it is the music that elevates the play’s emotional depth. A sweet children’s song, speaking of a child’s love for their father and the image of a joyful family dancing together, plays hauntingly in the background during the violent scenes, intensifying the paradox within the family. This contrast deepens the sense of dissonance at the heart of the story. The dramatic melodies during moments of persecution play a crucial role in amplifying the emotional weight, reinforcing the feelings the play sought to convey. The entire performance unfolds like a long poem—dark, sorrowful, and poignant—told from five perspectives. However, since all five faces choose silence, the truth remains hidden from the world.
The murder of Billy by his two daughters, as he experienced an epileptic seizure, was an unsettling moment of confrontation. The four actors delivered this intense scene with remarkable authenticity and emotional weight. Despite the director’s treatment, the characters seemed to exist in both the present and the past, creating a powerful sense of immediacy. At times, it felt as if the brutal reality of the situation was thrusting itself into the audience, leaving a lingering pain — perhaps for the silence that surrounded them. It is a perplexing and unsettling experience how, as a spectator, you can find yourself grappling with guilt, unsure of how or why it has taken root.
Further reading: Interview with Rozi Kostani: “It’s three times more difficult for female artists”
