JADAR

★★★★☆

Hedda, an adaptation of Henrik Ibsen’s Hedda Gabbler produced by Here to There Productions, tells a tale about power, humility, humiliation, and an irate, laid-back lead: Hedda Tesman.

Navigating a brand-new marriage alongside other social conditions such as gossip, scandal, and affairs which Hedda interferes with because ultimately… she is bored!

According to her, she is bored, not in the sense of lacking ambition or wanting more ambition but merely wanting people around her to be reckless and take charge.

I can see how this play, now, let alone when it was first was performed in 1891 in Munich, then Copenhagen a short while after, could be seen as distasteful, indulgent, anti-feminist – and worse, anti-humane. It reminds me of soaps, or those shows where each character is afflicted with the most dire situations: a recovering and unrecovered alcoholic, a runaway step-mother in love with said alcoholic, a leering and unlawful Judge, and a blissfully unaware, happy husband and an angry wife (you know the kind). This realism mimics a taste for theatre, now and before, of mirroring our realities back to us.

Even in this current production, Hedda (a wonderful Alexandra Whitworth) is distasteful, calculatingly rude, and, above all, looking to make people transgress. She is especially jealous of her old schoolmate, Thea Elvsted (a marvellous Monica Nash). Living vicariously through other people’s downfall is ultimately a Hedda-ian trait, which is both her zenith and downfall. The classic theatre idea of Dionysius and Apollo, Greek gods of chaos and structure, temptation and obedience, are felt clearly.

The set has a drab feel, which mimics Hedda’s interiority. The house, we are told, is a facade of wealth, build on debt, giving a socially well-off impression. A portrait of Hedda’s father looms gently behind and centrally off set, which is otherwise decorated to be a living room, cum guest room, with the edge of set decorated with all library shelves.

Interestingly, the other characters do not act completely as foils or responses to Hedda characters, which on one level irks her – they have their own lives, tantalising or fulfilled, which Hedda does not – which is interesting because supporting characters are often only relevant to the main character’s (or characters’) storyline(s). Hedda is sidelined even in a lead role as other people’s sub-plots become more important, sometimes to the other characters.

One example of this is Judge Brack, who leers and is suggestive towards Hedda, suggesting he can fulfil Hedda’s needs, when really talking about his own. He has Hedda in a corner when he has information that could scandalise her reputation, offering silence in exchange for her compliance.

This production – directed by Andrew Whittle, who we recently interviewed – captures Hedda’s fraught nature well. Her first appearance is loudly disclaiming about a tatty hat of the maid, to which her husband’s aunt rushes to claim as theirs. Midway through the play, she admits that she knew it was the aunt’s hat anyway and wanted to comment on its condition to embarrass the aunt. She looks, seeks and chases awkwardness, chases love but never requites, and masks her desire for power as a claim to help another.

Are we still able to see her helpless, trapped by her gender, her marriage, her own ego? Hedda would hate that you still see her like that. A loud gunshot off-stage at the end, we assume by and aimed at Hedda herself, but left ambiguous, highlights a key idea of the play: you cannot control another person’s fate but you can your own.

Hedda runs at Contact from April 2 to 6 and tours the UK until May 4. Check out our interview with director Andrew Whittle.

Photo: Here to There Productions