...it began in a small village in Spain...
The Happy Woman began a number of years ago, when I was briefly living in a small village in Spain. Every morning I went to a little, clattering café and watched two burly men and their mother preside over an extraordinary cast of characters. The mother, in particular, fascinated me. She was a big woman, and clearly very hard-working, but she wore a lady-like knee-length skirt and a delicately-crocheted sweater, and she beamed with satisfaction as she served customers.
I was fascinated by her stalwart happiness, and so I began a play where a woman (Margaret) is returning home from the market dragging a cart behind her. She stops to mop her face and marvel at the beauty of the day and delight in having a grandchild on the way. Margaret encounters her more cynical neighbour, (BellaDonna), on the street. When Margaret leaves, BellaDonna turns out to the audience to reveal both her role as “chorus”, as well as the news that Margaret’s life is not as idyllic as it seems: her daughter is acting out, and her daughter -in-law seems to be going mad with her pregnancy.
From this opening scene I stitched bits and pieces from my own life, until the play took on a shape that helped me understand my fascination with Margaret. Cassie, Margaret’s daughter, appeared, suffering from some kind of mysterious angst. She finds her mother’s joyfulness implacable; Margaret can’t hear anything, Cassie complains, if it’s not in a major key. Then, Margaret’s perfect son, Christian entered the story - apparently contented and happy – much like Margaret herself. His pregnant wife, Stasia, is troubled, however, and her fears and obsessions will prove to be uncannily related to unspoken tensions in the family.
Story Time
