Theatre / Reviews
Review: Hedda, Tobacco Factory Theatres – ‘A compelling take on Ibsen’s classic’
Not a single person alive in 1891 is alive now. Naturally.
So I can’t ask them about their world. I can’t ask them about their take on TikTok, ultra-processed foods and — gulp — the Internet. Nor can I ask them whether Henrik Ibsen’s play Hedda Gabler carries extra weight now than it did at debut. Alas.
One merit of art is its ability to endure. And Ibsen’s darkly comic play does that, principally on account of having all the sweetest theatrical ingredients in oodles: power, jealousy, frustration, sex, weakness, impulse…
is needed now More than ever
What a shopping list. And it goes on.
Hedda is the story of Hedda Tesman (née Gabler) — a woman dissatisfied with her lot in life. Ibsen’s original title pitched her as ‘her father’s daughter rather than her husband’s wife’. Interestingly, this adaptation’s title has her stand alone, perhaps beyond the sway of men?
So she’s just married George Tesman — a floundering, endearing academic — and they’ve returned home after a mundane honeymoon. Hedda’s immediately bored, and sets about manipulating other lives around her. That’s the crux. And it’s a compelling one.
Enter Eilert Lövborg — George’s academic competitor. He once loved Hedda, and she managed to draw from him his deepest desires and frailties. He believes he’s written a masterpiece, but he falls off the wagon into depravity and loses the manuscript, which paves the way for all the nastiness that comes.
Your Sparknotes, folks.
West-Midlands-based Here to There Productions deserve big props for bringing Ibsen’s brand of dramatic realism to life in a way that doesn’t alienate a modern audience. Writer and Director Andrew Whittle has adapted the original using contemporary language, which brings flourishes of humour and welcome, jarring moments in equal measure. Bertha — the housemaid and first character we meet — is especially infectious, bringing a Cockney reprieve to dense powerplays.
The action unfolds over perhaps 36 hours, wherein Hedda is increasingly ‘possessed’ by an untameable desire ‘to control the fate of man’. This dark drive is at times justified by the oppressive society she sits within, but her meddlings soon become problematic.
I read that Ibsen was interested in the then-nascent science of mental illness. Such a topic still lurks beneath the surface of this adaptation, but the precise nature of Hedda’s neuroses is beautifully elusive.
Alexandra Whitworth is our captivating anti-heroine. Her performance of pathology is calculated, bar the occasional outburst; I was a little surprised by the subtlety as it gave the other players a chance to steal scenes.
Perhaps that’s deliberate direction, putting more spotlight on those who are manipulated. George Tesman is played wonderfully by David Hubball, whose eccentric turns bring much-needed life to long stretches of dialogue. Monica Nash also stands out for her emotional range as Thea Elvsted — Eilert’s apparent muse — who is initially meek and concerned but soon animated and angered.
The play swings upon the arrival of Eilert Lövborg, an enigmatic, troubled writer who is a catalyst for the disasters and deaths that follow. Robert Hamilton captures the character’s depravity with occasional glimpses of nuance in the quiet toil of alcoholism and struggle. Ultimately, his shows of frustration are reliant on bellows a little too loud and unsubtle for the modest audience at Tobacco Factory Theatres.
Throughout, Ibsen’s dialogue is delivered with speed and assurance. It is jam-packed with snide asides and lurid metaphors, as well as references to love triangles, childbearing and Greek tragedies. In short: it is an academic’s dream.
The stage design is simple but smart, marked by touches like the era-typical leer of male portraits and the lavish red walls on which they sit — a fitting backdrop for Hedda’s bubbling disillusionment.
The prickly persistence of patriarchy — which she’s fought somewhat valiantly against — rears its head one final, fatal time through Judge Brack, who is a genuine joy to watch thanks to James Parsons’ wonderful aristocratic baritone. Hedda is warned that she’ll likely be caught up in a scandal.
For me, that spiralling final scene doesn’t sit quite right; Hedda’s resolve and determination dissolve a touch too quickly. But maybe that’s the idea. What do we make of the mess in Hedda’s wake? I’ve got my own ideas, but is there a consensus? If I could meet a single person from 1891, I’d ask. Alas.
Hedda is at Tobacco Factory Theatres from April 17-20 at 7.30pm, with an additional 2.30pm show on Saturday. Tickets are available at www.tobaccofactorytheatres.com.
All photos: Samuel Legge Photography
Read next:
Our top newsletters emailed directly to you
