A Play Devoid of Playfulness? 'Barcelona' at the Duke of York's ...

Editor's Note: Hannah's intriguing piece explores Barcelona in-depth, remarking upon story and genre choices that reveal major spoilers. This is not intended to be a mere review of the play, but probes further and questions harder. If you enjoy her thoughts, consider browsing the similar reflections of fellow STRAND Magazine writer Amy Calladine.

Who would've thought Lily Collins' (of Emily in Paris fame) stage debut would be the play to divide the West End in 2024? Following its press night in October, Barcelona became the subject of much criticism, with the general consensus amongst critics being that this comedy play's humour was poorly executed.

Barcelona was evidently not received in the way that I had anticipated and certainly not with the same enthusiasm as my family when I saw it with them on the final week at the Duke of York's Theatre. Critics say that the play was too long and frankly not interesting enough to warrant a 90-minute run with no intermission. Was it the “formulaic two-hander” that TimeOut claimed it to be? I thought not. In any case, I was entertained. The audience was, too. What’s more is that the overarching message was delivered with clarity, and I was moved. 

Lily Collins (as Irene) and Álvaro Morte (as Manuel) in Barcelona. Photo Credit: Marc Brenner

I am typically of the belief that two-hander plays are tedious and unexceptional – especially for 90 minutes straight – and yet, I was completely and utterly consumed throughout. The dialogue achieves a seamless balance between the politically pertinent and the light-hearted, the real and the imagined. The narrative is carried by comedic back-and-forth dialogue between the two characters, interspersed with incongruous, eerie musical interludes. American tourist Irene (Lily Collins) and Spanish native Manuel (Álvaro Morte)indulge in a drunken one-night-stand in the titular city, navigating palpable sexual and political tensions. They are caricature-like, exaggerated archetypes of their respective cultures. They play to their weaknesses in a distinctly tongue-in-cheek manner. Initially, Irene is ditzy and somewhat overbearing, liable to excessive outbursts of “verbal diarrhoea” as she aptly puts it. In contrast, Manuel is nonchalant, yet passionately macho. Their decidedly opposite characterisation was, in and of itself, a source of great laughter among the audience. Does this sound like an "overly simplistic [...] US comedy television show", as Yahoo! would have it?

The roots of the show's weaknesses, critics argued, lie in its undiplomatic and humourless tackling of real-world problems. But it is my conviction that these references to political issues add to the authenticity of the performance, grounding the characters in the real world, especially because the characters maintain a safe distance from current political territory. Political references are primarily made in the past tense – touching on recent historical events with tact enough not to draw from the issues of today and their controversial figureheads. As such, the play remained contemporarily relevant and sensitive. The comedy genre thrives on real-world relatability and is redundant in its absence.

Lily Collins (as Irene) in Barcelona. Photo Credit: Marc Brenner

Examining the narrative beyond politics, critics suggested that the intended sense of solidarity and shared experiences didn’t come through. As The Guardian's 2-star review asserted, there is “little sense of these strangers being transformed by a shared experience”. That misses the fundamental point. As tensions fell and the clarity of daylight dawned upon them, Irene and Manuel revealed their true selves. It became apparent that Irene and Manuel had developed an increasing tolerance for each other and perhaps even established a newfound affinity. The notion that two strangers from entirely different walks of life with very different political inclinations have the potential to reconcile their differences is hopeful. Is it idealistic? Perhaps not. It was soon plain that they not only desired but crucially needed the company of the other. It became increasingly clear that the characters found solace in one another. Significantly, the evening marked the beginning of their respective healing journeys. This point came through with a poignancy that hasn’t left me.

A keen sense of relatability propels the narrative forward. There was one particular moment at the very end that struck a chord within me, in which Irene asserts with conviction that Manuel doesn’t know her, driving home the point that they are indeed just two strangers, even after the intensity of their affair and the rollercoaster of emotion in its wake. Indeed, we scarcely know a person based on what they choose to show us – be it on one evening, or over the course of a lifetime. A person lies beneath their outward appearance. On the surface, Irene appears to lack emotional depth. Later, her emotional hysteria translates to something infinitely more complex. Her tactlessness masks something bigger. Irene is just another human being trying to navigate the big wide world and all its challenges. She is very clearly well-intentioned, if nothing else. 

Lily Collins (as Irene) and Álvaro Morte (as Manuel) in Barcelona. Photo Credit: Marc Brenner

As audience members, we see glimpses of ourselves reflected in these characters. Irene and Manuel are both distinguished by emotional transformations of sorts. They are by no means surface-level. Manuel is vacant for the most part, but his raw feeling in the last half-hour is heart-rending as he reveals what precisely he is doing in Barcelona, displaced from his livelihood in Madrid. It becomes clear that the obscure silhouette projections on the apartment walls stand for the inner demons eating away at a broken man grieving a profound loss, rotting in blame and self-hatred. The tone changes dramatically, as if on a whim. The characters move abruptly from back-and-forth light-hearted comedy to dark revelations. Playfulness becomes a frenzy. Anger and distress are rife. It is scenes such as these that allow the art of comedy to come through. Even when tensions peak, they are absurdly comical, and troubling, and alluring all at once.

Barcelona masterfully counterbalances humour with sombre themes, like grief and false pretenses. I was pleasantly surprised that there was some depth beyond a surface level, but I believe I would have been equally satisfied had it remained light-hearted throughout its entirety. If it wasn’t already abundantly clear, I laughed and I laughed and I laughed. Lily Collins’ facial expressions and gesticulations are made for unapologetic hilarity. She thrives on screen, and has an aptitude for the written word; to say that her stage debut was impressive would be a gross understatement. Don’t underestimate the power of a good laugh. The critics railed that Barcelona “lack[ed] the depth and nuance needed for London”. My response? London had better lighten up. 

Barcelona played at the Duke of York's Theatre from 21 October, 2024, to 11 January, 2025.