Villa

It is 50 years since the civil-military coup that overthrew the hopeful government of Salvador Allende in Chile and brought about one of the most terrible dictatorships of the 20th century in Latin America. Guillermo Calderón returns to one of his most celebrated works, Villa, which he premiered in 2011. Chile has come a long way since that fateful day 50 years ago. But also, between 2011 and 2023. When he wrote the play, the country was swinging between the Michelle Bachelet and Sebastián Piñera governments, during the global economic crisis. Gabriel Boric took on a country that had been rocked in the preceding years by mass protests inequality and corruption.

Villa is a work that points directly to an open wound in Chile: the Pinochet dictatorship and what Villa Grimaldi meant, a place on the outskirts of the Chilean capital where the Terranova Barracks. Villa Grimaldi was taken over by the DINA – Pinochet’s political police – as a centre of detention and torture. Former President, Michelle Bachelet declared is a survivor of Villa Grimaldi. Her mother was also taken there with her. Some 5,000 people passed through there at some point and 211 are still missing. President Michelle Bachelet herself was detained and tortured there along with her mother. Since 1997, the site has been the Villa Grimaldi Peace Park and in 2004 it was declared a National Historic Monument. No matter how dark and hurtful the memories of a nation, they form part of its people’s identity.

And that is what Villa is about: how to manage memory, how to face it, the contradictions it entails, the feelings it brings to the play. They are faced with the different alternatives about what to do with Villa Grimaldi. The options are to rebuild it or to build a modern museum. It is not easy to resolve. It is a real discussion that human rights organisations have about protecting the memory of victims of human rights abuses. A production of terse theatricality, the three female protagonists, who do not know each other, are played by three barbarian actresses, without the need for props, costumes, make-up, scenery, or sound spaces. This comes through with the poetic colloquialism that oozes from the text and the rhythm of impulsive conversation that burns in the body and words of the performers.

The three take blind votes about what to do with the property. Someone is refusing to settle on one option or the other. With fierce lucidity, Calderón makes us listen to what we do not like to hear, makes us think about what we do not like to face, because it would seem there are issues that we should all agree on, but we do not. The hostilities, suspicions and even the embarrassments that these three women expose nestle in the viewer, whether Chilean or not. Nothing is black and white. Examining shades of grey is more important than ever in today’s politically polarised landscape. What should they do with the villa? What to do with a story so sad and biting, but one we cannot forget? What to do with a memory that hurts? How does the past seep into the present?