“Barcelona” at The Duke of York's Theatre
Lily Collins & Álvaro Morte - Barcelona - The Duke of York's Theatre - Photo Credit Marc Brenner
My Theatre Confidences 🤫
BARCELONA
The Duke of York's Theatre
at a glance…
Barcelona left me torn between its polished direction and a missed opportunity for depth. The story of two strangers—a hopeful American and a grounded Spaniard—feels restrained, offering safe commentary rather than challenging reflections. While Lynette Linton’s direction brings warmth and tension, the play leans toward “Netflix theatre”—marketable yet lacking the raw honesty that transforms theatre. It left me longing for stories that push us beyond comfort and toward deeper truths.
Watching “Barcelona” by Bess Wohl was an experience filled with dual emotions—a blend of intrigue for its premise and frustration for what felt like a missed opportunity for deeper exploration. The plot of “Barcelona” brings together two seemingly incompatible strangers: an American woman who arrives as a hopeful escapee, perhaps naïve to the realities of the world, and a Spanish man with a more grounded, if cynical, perspective on the complicated histories that shape our present. As they navigate a single intense night together, they share moments of truth, vulnerability, and disagreement.
Their dialogues about politics reveal a classic divide that I imagine many audience members could recognize. Here, the American woman embodies a worldview heavily influenced by media narratives, while the Spanish man expresses a more nuanced understanding of global realities—commentary that, while gently touched upon, only scratched the surface. I found these moments resonant yet limited, raising essential reflections on how privileged, Western perspectives often discuss global issues superficially, without confronting the historical and ongoing impacts their societies have had. But instead of delving into these points, the script ultimately played it safe, and I couldn’t help but feel it missed the chance to challenge our assumptions. It seemed to offer comfort rather than provoke thought, perhaps catering to “woke” middle-class egos without truly interrogating the complexities of these issues.
Lily Collins & Álvaro Morte - Barcelona - The Duke of York's Theatre - Photo Credit Marc Brenner
The play also dives into the personal struggles of the woman, who hides deep-seated insecurities under a veil of happiness, conditioned by societal expectations and the lure of marriage as a supposed remedy to her inner dissatisfaction. I appreciated this subtle nod to the pressures many women feel to perform happiness and stability, often masking personal vulnerabilities crafted by a patriarchal society. Yet here, too, the play stayed within safe bounds, as if more interested in meeting narrative conventions than in offering a transformative examination of these themes. Instead of feeling like an invitation for audiences to face their own stories or traumas, it felt as though the play was ticking boxes—an exercise in structured storytelling, certainly polished but lacking the unbridled honesty that would have made it truly memorable. This is plastic theatre.
Despite these frustrations, my admiration for the play’s direction is profound. Lynette Linton, an extraordinary force in London’s theatre scene, worked wonders with Wohl’s script. Her direction pulled as much depth as possible from the characters, breathing life into their chemistry on stage and crafting moments of real feeling that wouldn’t have been there otherwise. Through Lynette Linton’s sensitive eye for romantic tension, the play did capture the reality that we rarely meet people “from scratch.” Instead, we bring layers of trauma, history, and noise into each new connection. Her directorial choices made these connections feel authentic and gave the characters a human warmth that felt hard-earned and honest.
Advertisement
However, my lingering frustration remains, and it’s a feeling I’ve noticed increasingly often in contemporary theatre. The trend toward what feels like “Netflix theatre”—stage productions curated for market appeal—often leaves me questioning where the passion for storytelling lies. Yes, the play is polished, safe, and even engaging, but does it inspire? Does it push the boundaries of our perceptions or remind us of theatre’s incredible power to make us reflect deeply? I worry that, in a landscape striving for broad appeal and big profits, we risk neglecting the countless brilliant talents who have vital stories to tell but may not fit neatly into the mold of “marketable” theatre.
Barcelona reminds me of how much I crave theatre that dares to go further, that prioritizes honesty and depth over a polished, formulaic experience. We need more theatre that challenges us to be uncomfortable, that pushes us to reflect deeply and open ourselves up to the stories of others—and, maybe, to our own.
My Way of Looking at Theatre
You know, the more I think about it, the clearer it becomes that traditional theatre criticism has often been a tool for maintaining existing power structures.
It’s time to drop the privileged fancy talk around theatre and break free from star ratings.
