Hedda Gabler will not be coerced. It’s the mantra of a general’s daughter, the battle cry of a woman so enmeshed in the art of war that she keeps loaded pistols in her living room. Henrik Ibsen’s convention-demolishing heroine raised eyebrows (and tensions) when she first stormed onstage in 1891, and the Sherman Theatre’s bold new version proves that Hedda is still as fresh, furious and fascinating a character in 2019 as she ever was.

Adapted from the original by Brian Friel, we follow Hedda Tesman (née Gabler) as she as her husband George return home from their honeymoon. Having recently received his doctorate, George is hopeful of gaining a much-telegraphed professorship – until the resurfacing of his academic rival, and Hedda’s former lover, Eilert Løvborg, threatens to upend the fragile new life they have built together. Chelsea Walker’s electrifying direction keeps mystery and character motivations simmering just below the surface; under her careful, artful eye, the stage is always thrumming with movement, which not only propels the drama along at a nimble pace but makes the world (though encased in a gorgeously hyper-real theatrical set) feel lived-in and authentic.

As Hedda Gabler, Heledd Gwynn is astonishing. Brutal, blunt and unbending, she demands space and attention, majestically spreading her arms like a King holding court – because although Hedda is a wife (and possibly an expectant mother), she defies and often transcends the strict binaries of gender and the behaviour dictated therein. Hedda wears her hair short and her feet bare; the most feminine she allows herself to be in appearance is the glamorous silk dress she sports throughout – a militaristic green gown she wears defiantly like armour (she is the only character who does not change her clothes – or anything else, for that matter – in the second act). And yet Gwynn meticulously threads a vein of vulnerability into Hedda’s precipitous façade, deposits of entombed emotion that Hedda battles to suppress and, if need be, destroy.

After Gwynn’s stellar turn, the other most overtly impressive performance is from Richard Mylan as Judge Brack, a sinewy nerve of malevolent machismo who is perhaps the closest Hedda has to an intellectual equal. As both a man and a judge, Brack is a repulsively-drawn sleaze of the highest order who delights in wordplay and innuendo as a means of making himself look powerful and sophisticated. As the sole representative of the law, Brack is a petty, pernicious piece of work; a man who, despite his profession’s aim to locate the truth, deals in gossip, hearsay and lies. Mylan deliciously articulates his every word with a sort of Wildean lasciviousness, and his every moment onstage feels unsettlingly dangerous.

On the opposite end of the spectrum is George Tesman, Hedda’s blissfully clueless beau, endearingly played by Marc Antolin. George is just so lovable that his oblivious adoration of Hedda even as she ridicules him behind his back is one of the most heart-breaking elements in an already-tragic story. Antolin treads a fine line in making George’s naïveté sweet without slipping into bumbling foolishness; his interpretation is a far more sympathetic take on the character than most – even if did manage to turn their honeymoon into a six-month long research trip. His doting aunt Juliana, tenderly played by Nia Roberts, seems to understand more of Hedda’s foibles than she would ever passive aggressively hint to her nephew, but Roberts brilliantly plays the role on several different levels at once, hinting at a more intricate inner life that other versions might gloss over – meanwhile Caroline Berry as stalwart servant Bertha watches proceedings with soundless intensity.

The ever-excellent Alexandria Riley once again shines in a complex role. As Thea Elvstead, Riley represents a more conventional femininity than Gwynn’s Hedda, escaping one troubled romance to start another, and finding herself caught in the dead space in between men who continue to fail her. She has devoted herself to the cause of Løvborg’s redemption and is willing to put in the invisible emotional labour to help co-author his revolutionary new book uncredited. Although Thea is eager to raise Løvborg up at her own expense, she is presented as a far more bold, brave person than Hedda, who despite her brash callousness admits herself a coward in catering to her phobia of scandal above all else – and the thorny rapport between Thea and Hedda is one of the drama’s most engaging and multifaceted relationships.

As a heroine in 1891, Hedda was unlike any woman in fiction at the time – her existence was a triumph in itself, every cruel act a defiant reclamation of agency that other women (fictional or otherwise) were then denied at a systematic level. Even though Hedda remains frustratingly oblique about her intentions (for the most part), that she has the freedom and privacy of her own thoughts and motivations was a privilege afforded to few women in the literature of her era. It is even more poignant when considering how Hedda is treated as property and possession to everyone in her life – especially to Brack, who views her as uncharted (and as-yet unconquered) territory, and even to dear, darling George (who takes on more of the emotional, empathetic woman-coded duties of the domestic household), who starts mapping out her entire life the second he learns that he has a progeny on the way, exuberantly uncaring of what she has to say in the matter.

Tragically, perhaps the only one to see her as a person is one she dehumanises the most: Eilert Løvborg, wonderfully portrayed by Jay Saighal. He is the one to call Hedda by her maiden name, by the name we know her, by the name that reflects her true self. Saighal is captivating in the role, projecting the image of a genuinely kind but self-destructive person brimming with love and beauty but unable to channel it into healthy, rewarding pursuits – his infatuation with Hedda a prime example. The moment where Løvborg secretly touches Hedda’s hand as an unknowing George flips through the honeymoon photo album is the most sensually-charged moment in a play that also features the judge crawling towards Hedda on all fours. That brief, almost-hidden moment of contact is a subtle, gorgeously romantic moment that represents all that was, is and could be between two people who just keep missing the chance to be together.

The superb acting is bolstered by a truly spectacular set, gloriously designed by Rosanna Vize in a way that is both edgily creative and deeply symbolic. The stage is decadently austere – all sharp lines and stark colours, nothing homely in sight save for the battered old piano which maybe represents Hedda’s deceased mother; a cage hangs ominously over the domestic square like a sword of Damocles, ready to ensnare her. The set is both specific and universal enough to enable a multitude of readings: perhaps it represents the reductive domestic sphere, or a psychoanalytic manifestation of Hedda’s internal mind; perhaps a domesticated purgatory or a metaphysical courtroom – or all at once? Ash falls from the ceiling at times; a real fire burns in a hidden compartment under the floor; in parts the stage is littered with flowers, symbols of pure, pretty, uncomplicated femininity – and Hedda takes a blowtorch to them. It’s utterly mesmerising.

Giles Thomas and Robert Sword’s anxious heartbeat of a score throbs ominously as tensions rise, and the cast wait their turn while sitting in chairs at the back of the stage, watching. As a purgatorial judiciary of peers, they sit in judgment, but also don’t seem to exist unless as pawns in the machinations of Hedda, who is the only actor onstage at all times – even when she is not participating in a scene, she remains the focus of it, standing imposingly at the centre of the stage as others talk about her. At one point George waxes lyrical about how there is only one Hedda, but she is already two – Hedda Gabler and Hedda Tesman. The true Hedda lies behind a door to which we are never given access; though the drama’s vibrant brush strokes paint only a partial portrait, we learn that Hedda is a deeply complicated, contradictory and confounding person. We may not agree with her, like her, or even sympathise with her – but we are her, in all our wondrous complexity.

It was a privilege to be a part of the post-show panel, along with Hannah Morgan (Head Above the Waves), David Mellor (Lecturer of Sociology, University of South Wales), led by Tim Howe (Communities & Engagement Coordinator, Sherman Theatre). It was such a joyful panel to be a part of and honestly my favourite so far – not least because Hannah
memorably dubbed Løvborg ‘hot bleedy guy’ and made my night! It was particularly special because Cardiff’s Law and Literature module was out in force, including our brilliant students and fearless leader Professor Ambreena Manji. We have been studying the play in our classes and it has been wonderfully rewarding to hear each of the students develop and express their own individual interpretation of the story, characters and themes. Although Hedda Gabler is not obviously legal on the surface, a deeper reading reveals legal issues at play such as gendered criminal behaviour, theft, co-authorship, property law, blackmail, and encouraging suicide (and that’s just the non-spoiler list!) Reading the play with these issues in mind can help to historicise law and explore its real-world effects and implications. The panel culminated in the question of whether Hedda ultimately has a choice in the end – I can only urge you to see this stunning production and answer that question for yourselves. Hedda Gabler is playing at the Sherman Theatre until 2^nd November.

‘The Story’ by Tess Berry-Hart, directed by David Mercatali, presents as rather old-fashioned agit-prop theatre, here deployed as a perfectly legitimate form for holding our feet to the fire over the very unpleasant realities we so often choose to ignore around migration, detention centres, and the horrors of suspicion and injustice acted upon the dispossessed from wherever part of our poor and war-torn planet they make come.

As a theatre-going audience we are self-selectedly approaching the piece with a kind of generic left-wing sympathism, and this makes us a player in this drama. We need our eyes opened as one of the two character’s does.  We need to see what Berry-Hart has come to see.

In a
formula with which I was initially dissatisfied, the two actors present
socio-political ideas through figures who are representative cyphers rather
characters in any real, three-dimensional sense.  One represents ‘our’ values as caring,
middle-class, educated and informed liberals; 
the other represents all aspects of the oppressive state.

This is
not promising.  This seems like nineteen
seventies’ student theatre.  But it is
not. It does become much more.

The piece
is well presented and nimbly directed. 
Mercatali is determined that nothing here will lag.  We are tumbled into darkness and action and,
once in, we are fully immersed until the final line, the final beat.  He manages the time lapses very skilfully, as
he does the suggested violence and threat. 
This is almost always sure-footed and lapses are rare.

There are one or two clunky moments that obtrude stylistically, but generally the pace and intensity is right and skilfully delivered.

It is in
the playing that we are most impressed though, particularly by the excellent
Siwan Morris Hughes: there is an intensity and commitment which, in this tiny
performance space, makes us feel voyeurs and brings awkwardness and discomfort – precisely what Berry-Hart most wants.  Hannah McPake avoids all the major traps set
for an actor with multiple playing:  she
ensures that changes from figure to figure are slight modulations of manner and
little vocal nuances.  She is always convincing
– despite the writing at times, which provides her with half-drawn and
unconvincing figures, quite intentionally – none of these people is real and we
are never given the option of believing that they are.  McPake’s playing then is technical, of
necessity, whilst Morris-Hughes’ is fully immersive, deeply committed and very,
very skilled.

The digital element to the piece is well-conceived and realised and enhances the work. The score is appropriate, though I felt that perhaps an opportunity was missed – I would have loved this to have been further developed and a more significant feature.

Although
I initially felt detachment and disappointment in the piece, as the patterns of
language developed, a poetry of oppression emerged, overlapping and building in
intensity and rhythm and drew me in. Ideas became more complex and more satisfying.  Some of the writing at the heart and height
of the play is of a very high quality and Berry-Hart finds a poetry which does
some justice to the huge issues with which she attempts to deal.

The ‘turn’ and ‘reveal’ doesn’t surprise us, but is built towards effectively and is
dramatically pretty convincing – Morris-Hughes’ performance helps bring this
off with its intensity and unflinching commitment.

The piece
is leavened occasionally by moments of irony and humour, but it needed
more.  The horror and misery needed
lifting at points and it is an extremely difficult thing to do – nonetheless,
it needed doing.  For me the play would have benefitted with the greater layering of perspective
that this could have brought to what was too often a sledgehammer intensity in
the writing.

So, I’m glad I finally got to see this work. Its retro’ agit-prop form contains and perhaps belies a complex, poetic work that is troubling and nuanced.

The Story plays at The Other Room 08/10 – 27/10

(4 / 5)

Written by Laura Wade (Home, I’m Darling) and directed by Lucy Hughes “Posh” is as uncomfortable as it is funny, cringe worthy as it is poignant and outdated as it is relevant. It is everything growing up in Thatchers reign, how I imagined the titled and the privileged would behave (and could, indeed, be behaving in BoJo’s Brexit Britain). It takes mainly stereotypical “Rar Rar toffs” and rams them down your throat, stuffing you like the gritty posh pate eaten for the first course in Act 1.

10 unpleasant young men unravel in a dinning room spin on Lord of the Flies, brought down by their own self importance, arrogance and sense of entitlement.The play holds a mirror up to society and shows us the self imposed holes we place others and ourselves in. With glimpses that life isn’t all it seems…. for anyone.

Laura Wade has created in the main unlikable characters, that by the end of the play you neither like or pity. However, you do ask yourselves some questions about the world we live in. Any empathy I felt for the characters was gone this is cleaver writing – because you don’t mind disliking them – it feels right not to like them. It helps that the script is laugh out loud funny and although you may not like the characters most have them, at first, have some  likeable qualities.

The play is intensely difficult to set as in the main it is 10 men around a round dinning table – but with some clever chair placement you don’t notice. The realistic setting of the dinning room adds to the overall feeling that you are spying on a section of our society that you are not supposed to see – the idea that this behaviour all takes place behind closed doors runs through the play and the fact that director hasn’t tried to rearrange it to accommodate for the audience gives a sense we are peeping through the walls.

The cast is excellent and with a lesser the cast the play could fall flat. Joseph Tyler Todd as George and Adam Mirsty as Guy give stand out performances, but hats off to Tiger Drew Honey who earned his place on the stage as the vile Alister. Quiet in the main for the first half he simpers and simmers to the interval when he finally lets rip. This is the first stage performance for Tiger Drew, he could have opted to play it safe and play a likeable cheeky chappy, instead he has chosen the polar opposite. A gamble that has paid off, as it showcases his talent as an actor. This touring play feels like he is on an apprenticeship which will lead to bigger things.

Posh plays at Theatr Clwyd until October 26th this is a funny, gritty, peep through the curtain look at how, potentially, the privileged few get to be the privileged few, no matter what they do!!!!

(4 / 5)

Playhouse Creatures, which landed at Chapter Arts Centre and will remain there until the 26th October, is an interesting play that follows the lives of the first women to be involved with English theatre after Charles the second became King and reinstated theatre in mainstream life. This is a very clever play which is influenced by and includes references to Shakespearean classic theatre which give the play multiple layers which makes it very interesting for the audience. As this was a play all about women being ‘allowed’ to participate in the theatrical arts the show contained an all-female cast which is fantastic. What complicates this play is there are men involved in the story but they never actually appear. The focus of this play is on these women, so I think this creative choice to not have any male actors in the scenes helps with the female centred theme of the show and is fantastic.

The staging of this show mostly stayed the same throughout, which again helps keep the focus on these women, the set involved a ‘stage’ on the stage. The story gets a little complicated as it follows these women as they perform in plays. This means from the audience perspective they are watching a play within in a play and the reason for the stage on a stage was to allow the play-caption to occur in an easy to follow the way from the audience. On top of this, cleverly the light designers had devised a light arrangement to again signify the difference between the ‘audience’s play’ and the ‘actors play.’ As the lights were constant throughout the whole play, the lightening and creative team have done something clever that benefitted the experience of the audience.

Another, lighting design that was significant was the lights during the witching scene towards the end of act one. This scene was incredibly scary and the red lights were incredibly striking and unsettling which was fantastic. The colour ‘red’ itself shows danger but the same effect was used during fire scenes which were again very clever. The costumes used in this play were amazing. Not only were they visibly appealing and looked nice but also they blended traditionally female costumes with conceptual ideas of the thoughts of women in theatre at the time. One of the underlying ideas of the play was that women were objectified and seen as something people can try to take home and have their way with. The way they managed to combine all these ideas is insanely clever and so the costume team on this production should be proud of this. This idea helped inspired the companies branding and advertising for the show itself. On the programmes, there is a corset which helps carry the female-centric show and the sexualisation of women (through clothing) which fits perfectly with the show.

Most of the characters in this play are based on real-life actresses of the time which helps with the authentic feel of the show. Nell Gwynn, who is based on Elanor Gwynne who was a long-time mistress of Charles the 2nd, who was played in this production by Lucinda Curley who played a relatable and common character.

Doll Common is the only character who is not inspired by real-life people but in my opinion, was one of the best characters in this play. This character was played by Linda Vickers who debatably was the strongest person in the play. While being the most common character (as the name suggests) she also created the majority of the comical moments in the play which had the audience rolling in laughter. Linda nailed every aspect of the character and fitted the role perfectly.

Mrs Rebecca Marshal, who was played by Sarah Green in this play, is based on the sister Anne and Rebecca Marshal who famously had many issues with ‘annoying men in her audience.’ Mrs Marshal carried a fan for the majority of play which fitted the character perfectly. This prop managed to combine the sass and fierceness of the character which was an excellent choice. Having seen Sarah Green take on many iconic roles such as Carries Mother in Carrie the musical and Gladys Pugh in He-De-Hi at the Cardiff Open Air festival, I am constantly astonished by Sarah acting talent and her ability to portray contrasting characters perfectly.

The other roles of Mrs Elizabeth Farley and Mrs Mary Betterton (played by Robyn Hough and Sarah Bawler) helped to portray the greatest character progression who the involvement of real-life and relatable issues. The former had a very emotional scene in which she talked directly to the audience which was delivered so strongly and demonstrated Robyn’s acting talent.

Overall, this is a historic play that gives a voice to people who we often forget about. Having discussed in length in University about the reinstating of theatre and the ‘allowing’ of women in theatre, I have never thought about the struggle and issues the founding women would have faced and so in that regard this is a unique play. It is cleverly written and performed by an incredibly talented cast which also demonstrated the power of theatre.

Play: Henrik Ibsen

Adapted from the original by Brian Friel.

Director: Chelsea Walker

(3 / 5)

A dark play, dealing with themes of manipulation and
obsession, with a feminist agenda rampant throughout, Hedda Gabler is
not a work to be undertaken lightly by any director. All the more credit, then,
to Chelsea Walker not only for tackling the issues head on, but for giving Brian
Friel’s adaptation, premiered in Dublin in 2008, a contemporary slant which, in
focussing on the vagaries of the central character whose name is the title of the
play, also explores the elements that have produced them. To quote the
Sherman’s artistic director Joe Murphy:

“In this age of identity crises, both personal and political, this play has never been more relevant.”

No less daunting is the task facing Welsh actress Heledd Gwynn as Hedda, in a role that has been performed by numerous famous actresses over the years.  Hedda is a complex woman – a young wife who has everything she wanted and nothing that she really wants.  As bored in her marriage as she was beforehand, Hedda is ripe for mischief – with tragic results. Gwynn’s performance is a tad tentative in the first half; her character definition a slow burner.  Not altogether a bad thing, but she needs to slow down a tad speech-wise.

Nice character development from Marc Antolin as Hedda’s ambitious academic husband George Tesman. Boyish and self-depreciating but ambitious when it comes to the prospect of being beaten to the post by fellow academic the quasi-reformed druggie and former lover of Hedda Eilert Loevborg, who has returned to the fold just in time to cause chaos – a chaos that eventually tips over into tragedy. Tesman’s attitude to his wife is a key element, and in Walker’s hands this production makes this crystal clear. As Eilert, Jay Saighal shows a relish for the role, coming to his own in the second half; difficult to say more without being in danger of a spoiler.

In the skilled hands of Nia Roberts, who many will remember
from the TV series Keeping Faith, the character of George’s aunt Julia
Tesman is a joy to watch – the ebullient, loving auntie failing to see the
danger of a claustrophobic relationship based on treating a grown man as a boy.  Ibsen’s classic take on the power of family
to support but also to destroy is one of the many themes in this complex play,
and Friel’s adaptation gives it full credence in this production.

Returning to the Sherman, as Hedda’s friend Thea Elvsted, Alexandra Riley ticks the boxes in demonstrating the power of female friendship.

A  modernistic set by Rosanna Vize, aided considerably by lighting by Joseff Fletcher, includes a working firepit – worry not, fully authorised by Health and Safety, although obviously requiring careful watching and a vast amount of  clearing up after each performance   Nevertheless, a highly effective replacement for the stove used when the play was first performed in its original form in Munich in 1891.   Autres temps, autres mœurs – does Friel’s adaptation as staged in this production stand the test of time?   A mind-blowing 128 years later, attitudes towards class, wealth and social standing -not to mention the big one, gender, coupled with identity crises – have changed immeasurably.  Or have they really changed that much?  Can we sympathise with Hedda?  Or not?

The answer to those questions is:…..

Go to see the play- then judge for yourself.

Run ends Saturday November 2^nd.