Review: Comala, Comala

Say the name Pedro Paramo to your average punter in George Square Gardens and you’ll probably draw a blank. Yet in Mexico, and wider Latin America, the 1955 book is revered as one of the best – taught in schools and inspiring Latino writers like Gabriel Garcia Marquez and Jorge Luis Borges. The magic realism of Marquez and the inimitable lacing of the living and dead in Mexican folklore abounds in Pedro Paramo. Comala, Comala is a new adaptation by mestiza playwright Conchi León, coming to the Fringe after a sold out run in Mexico City and performed in its original Spanish. 

Cramped into Zoo Southside’s hot studio, the space is filled with drums piled on top of each other, which the actors cram around with other instruments, candles lighting the darkness. It is a set that gives the feeling of many locations: a family living room, an orchestra pit or a bar – helped by the copious amounts of mezcal passed about to the audience. This idea of shapeshifitng is intrinsic to the narrative of Comala, Comala and we see the cast move between playing the living and dead, the chorus and musicians. It is ritualistic and transient as the cast use traditional folk instruments like the quijada (made from a donkey’s jawbone) to guide us through this story of a ghost town, where nothing is as it seems. Particular high points include the actor playing Dolores, whose singing ability is unmatched, and the comedic back and forth between the two Señora characters. 

It can be pretty opaque at points, the story is layered and tough, and the wall projections of the English subtitles can be hard to keep up with as so many characters rally their lines. But sometimes letting yourself sink into the atmosphere of a fever dream, fuelled by the room’s heat and the fumes of the mezcal, is all you need.