This is a really cool play about Francisco Goya. He's gone deaf and has isolated himself from the outside world to paint his Black Paintings, which are projected against the walls of the theater during the play. Different paintings are shown in different moments of the production, and the characters often look at and analyze these paintings. Because Goya is deaf, many of the lines "spoken" by his maid/mistress Leocadia and his doctor are set in parentheses, with the idea that the actor who plays the character will not speak the lines, but rather read them, use them to understand the sentiments being expressed, and convey them using pretend sign language on stage (or they could find stage actors who know sign language, I guess). In a performance of El sueño de la razón, the actor playing Goya would be the only one speaking for long stretches of time. Mixed in with his speech and the other characters' sign language are different verbal and sonic effects, such as a beating sound similar to that of a human heart and a variety of characters whose voices are heard by the painter in his state of madness. That's really the big question: has Goya gone crazy? His paintings certainly seem to indicate that he has, although at one point the priest wonders whether they aren't perhaps the works of a genius who cannot be understood by his contemporaries. Crazy or not, he's gotten into some trouble due to an impertinent letter he sent to a friend of his criticizing King Fernando VII. The king appears at the beginning of both of the play's acts, and he discusses Goya with two different subjects as he does some embroidery. Apparently the king had some serious talent with the needle. Everybody wants Goya to go into exile, but he obstinately insists on staying. His two closest friends, the doctor Arrieta and the priest Duaso, have extended conversations with him in which they seek to understand his mental state and convince him that he needs to get out of Dodge. As they talk (or sign, or write messages on paper for Goya to read), the Black Paintings cycle through the background. Goya really did do a series of paintings directly on the walls of his home, so that's a fairly realistic representation of what a visit to his estate might have been like.

This book was published in 1970, and in it Goya has been deaf for 31 years. Subtracting 31 years from 1970 brings us to 1939. When I realized this, I wondered how much of Franco was in King Fernando, and whether Goya's experience in this play is meant to represent the experience of the Spanish intellectual/artist under the Franco regime. I imagined the artist, haunted by the censors (priest Duaso is a censor in this play) and hesitant to publish or release his works into the world for fear of the repercussions, or because he'd been so beaten down by years of censorship that he knew it was all pointless anyway. Is this play an allegorical representation of the artist's life in Spain after three decades of fascist rule? The internet is not helping me out with information to back up my allegory theory. I thought Google would confirm my suspicions with a simple search. But I read most of the play as an allegory and it never stopped making sense, so I'm going to go on thinking it's so until I'm informed otherwise.

If it is an allegory, and I think it is, it was an incredibly enjoyable one for me because I've been looking at a lot of Goya's artwork this fall. The university here in my hometown has a really good art museum, and they've got original editions of Goya's Caprichos and Los desastres de la guerra in their print collection. The other day I made an appointment to view some of these prints, and I got to see the artist's original handiwork there in person. I wasn't allowed to turn the pages of Caprichos, which they've kept intact in bound book form, but a graduate student helped me page through all the different prints. I saw two different copies of "El sueño de la razón produce monstruos," the print that lends its name to this play. Looking at a book made by Goya more than two centuries ago was a fantastic experience. The viewing led me to this book as well, and reading this play was a pretty solid experience too. It made me want to see those prints again, but I think this time I'll content myself with the virtual versions, rather than request another special viewing. I've got bigger plans anyway: my university also has a second edition of Don Quijote and I'm going to try and view that. Maybe they'll even let me put my hands on that one, but probably not. ( )