Benedict Andrews’ new work is a reimagining of Ingmar Bergman’s classic 1966 film. The actress Elisabeth Vogler suddenly stops speaking while in the midst of playing Sophocles’ Electra. While there are various interpretations of Bergman’s film and Vogler’s silence, one of the most compelling is that Electra forces Vogler to confront two truths: the complexity of the divided self, with Electra and Clytemnestra becoming mirror images of each other in their need for vengeance; and the performative nature of all social interactions, including motherhood. Vogler’s withdrawal into silence begins a process which forces her to come to terms with both issues, while her nurse Alma becomes a projection of the parts of herself she has suppressed. As a further reflection of the themes of the divided self and the performative nature of human relationships, Cate Blanchett and Nina Hoss alternate roles. On the night we attended, Blanchett played Electra/Vogler while Hoss was Clytemnestra/Alma. Together, they provide a tour de force of contrasting and complementary emotional states. Blanchett beautifully captures Electra’s power and rage as she shifts from fury and defiance to anguish and despair, conveying the character’s consuming desire for vengeance. As the silent Vogler, her face becomes almost equally powerful, a landscape of suppressed emotion. Blanchett conveys resistance, contempt, vulnerability and grief, allowing the smallest movement of the eyes or mouth to become charged with meaning. Equally impressive is Hoss in her contrasting roles. As Clytemnestra, she brings a deep sense of maternal grief and wounded dignity to a woman whose actions are shaped by loss and betrayal. As Alma, her performance initially has a warmth and nurturing quality as she devotes herself to Vogler’s care. Gradually, however, the relationship becomes more complicated as Alma’s emotional dependence grows and the boundaries between nurse and patient, performer and persona, begin to dissolve. This doubling of the roles is intellectually intriguing and theatrically powerful, but the connection between the two sections of the play could be made more explicit. The parallels between Electra and Persona are central to the production’s conception, yet they sometimes remain opaque, leaving the audience to do too much of the work in establishing the relationship between the myth and the modern psychological drama. Greater clarity about the link between the two sections would help sharpen the parallels rather than leaving them submerged beneath the production’s deliberately enigmatic Bergmanesque surface. The production’s simple set provides a stark, uncluttered environment which gives the actors nowhere to hide, and this visual simplicity ensurs that the performers and their performances dominate. The pared-back design effectively reflects the stripped-down psychological world of Persona, while blurring the distinction between artifice and reality. At times, however, the production’s visual and conceptual ideas threaten to become more suggestive than illuminating. Andrews’ production is an ambitious attempt to bring Bergman’s psychological labyrinth into direct conversation with Sophocles’ tragedy, but the results are uneven. The most compelling aspect of Electra/Persona is the way Blanchett and Hoss command the stage. The result is a fascinating and frequently mesmerising theatrical experience whose emotional power is sometimes greater than its dramatic clarity.
Rated: ★★★
Reviewed by J.C.
Photo by Monika Rittershaus
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