★★★★ The mother, central character of the universal idiosyncrasy, since biblical times, is associated with the ability to give love, to generate life, to fight for ideals and even to offer any kind of sacrifice for the upbringing of their descendants . But there are also some that are so absorbing that they come to dominate the existence of their children and control their every step or decision, in their overprotective desire. In “My mother, my girlfriend and I”, the mother-son relationship is vitiated by codependency. Fernando reached forty and still lives under his mother’s wing, in the old house in Lomas. It’s Christmas, no less, and while he decorates the tree, Victoria, the parent, inquires about the guest they will receive for the symbolic and traditional dinner. It is about Leticia, a young independent lawyer who loves the man of the house, wants to build her own nest and start living together as a couple.
What a task the girl will have when she discovers that the love of her life hid from her that she depends on her mother’s will for the most everyday things, like ironing a shirt. The mother will also have her reality bath when she finds out that he is going to a therapist .
The night will pass under a climate of tension that, thanks to the laughter generated by the text and exacerbated by the performances, allows us to immerse ourselves in that Oedipal world and identify ourselves as resigned children. Once again it is shown that laughter can ride on the chill. Because, in short, whoever has not been condescending more than once with the “old woman”, who throws the first stone.
The rhythm is frenetic, very well handled from the direction by the versatile artist Diego Reinhold. It has a great walking stick in the figure of Graciela Tenenbaum, a kind of Tasmanian devil with skirts, who takes over fiction with her voice of thunder and the enormous ability to demonstrate what an excellent comedian she is. The trio is completed with the ductile performances of Sebastián Presta and Vicky Almeida.
“Unfortunately there is only one mother”, sang the mythical Carlos Gardel, in a 1930 tango; “Fortunately”, the protagonist of this amusing piece by the young Argentine playwright Mechi Bove would affirm. pe Uria; but not the music, which sounds like the trumpets of the apocalypse. If he manages to survive the endless and tiresome flights of stairs to reach the room, he will witness this fascinating dialogue.
