★★★

“Martin Crimp’s translation faithfully brings out the anarchic poetry of Genet’s language”

Most crime dramas (not that Jean Genet’s “The Maids” can be specifically classified as one) these days tend to start with the crime – usually a murder – and work backwards. What makes Genet’s play stand out from the crowd is the focus on the build-up rather than retrospective investigation. A slightly surreal evolution of events and dialogue that is steeped in invention, make-believe and role play. So much so that it is almost impossible to distinguish reality from fantasy throughout. Ironic, too, in that his flight of fancy is based on the real-life scandal of two sisters who brutally murdered their employer and her daughter.

Genet’s story examines two sisters, Claire and Solange, who fantasise about and act out murdering their mistress. But as soon as the house lights fade, we know we are being played with. The opening dialogue – alternately cruel, sharp and funny – between the ‘Mistress’ and Claire has us making judgements on the dynamic coupling; only to discover that we are in fact watching Claire ‘being’ the Mistress and Solange ‘being’ Claire. This playful doubling and verbal smoke-and-mirrors technique keeps us on our toes, but unfortunately prevents us from caring much for the characters. It is all quite one sided too. The maids get to vocalise their frustrations and overblown sense of oppression, while their mistress has little say of her own. It is hard to sympathise with the extreme emotions and motives on display. Particularly when Carla Harrison-Hodge’s excellent portrayal of the ‘Mistress’ brings out the humour so succinctly. She may be a privileged bully, but we can never believe she has earned her fate.

Under Annie Kershaw’s fast paced direction, the cast are all very watchable indeed as they spiral out of control, losing touch with their own realities. Anna Popplewell, as Solange, is the more unbalanced maid – one minute an ingenue, the next a ruthless martyr. Charlie Oscar gives a strength to the weaker sister that layers more dimensions onto her character than Genet probably intended. Their onstage chemistry is captivating as they pace around each other within the confines of the space. Cat Fuller’s simple but clever set design places the action within the Mistress’ boudoir, presented as a padded cell which further plays with our sense of reality. An oversized mirror lets part of the audience see themselves, while the sisters repeatedly gaze at their own reflections. Perhaps we are being told that they represent us, but if so, it is a concept that is as impossible to grasp as it is to relate to these personalities. Nevertheless, the acting is captivating enough to guide us through Genet’s often esoteric writing. Popplewell’s heightened monologue that brings us to the climax of the piece is a tour de force.

Martin Crimp’s translation faithfully brings out the anarchic poetry of Genet’s language. Yet it is hard to disguise the self-indulgence in the dialogue as it spirals inwards into ever confusing and smaller circles. The text is too successful in its aim to be ambiguous and obscure. It is saved by the trio’s performance, that transforms an extended and directionless game of role play into a dynamic piece of theatre.

TARANTULA

Arcola Theatre

★★★★

“a magnificent and terrible thing to watch”

Darkness descends into the carefree life of teenager Toni with such unexpected force that breath drains from her lungs. Then ours. Ever after in this heart-wrecking drama, we struggle to regain balance.

Because, by the time this trauma strikes, young Toni has become our friend. Theoretically, the teen – self-deprecating, romantic, smart – occupies the theatre space alone for 90 minutes, but such is her boundless joy at the prospect of a budding romance that we quickly become her BFFs. What should I wear? What about this? Or this? What should I say? Aren’t his eyelashes just the loveliest?

The mechanics of a crush are awkward so she’s eager to crowdsource some insight.

The romance is almost too perfect as first loves must be. They plan a life together over their first shared milkshake. She will be a writer, he will take pictures. They hold hands. Brush arms. The individual kisses merge into one swelling super-kiss…

But the title of the play is Tarantula. The playwright is master weaver Philip Ridley. Nothing can be as straightforwardly simple as snogging by moonlight.

Something’s coming. Darkness is coming. The clue is in the moments of fugue state when Toni mentions her prospect’s name – Michael. Is she lovestruck? Or something-else-struck?
We soon find out.

You cannot take your eyes off Georgie Henley, who plays Toni. She won’t let you. As the naive schoolgirl, she is mercurial and giddy and all the things a girl can and should be. She dares you not to delight in her. Later, that same thrill is transmuted by her experience into something forced and manic. She is the same but different. The same but shrill. She challenges you to spot the artifice of her carefully constructed veneer of uber-glee.

Under Wiebke Green’s direction, the trauma that visits Toni is physical. It stalks her endlessly and then – in a quite astonishing and visceral way – it occupies her. She struggles to breathe. She is paralysed. She is felled. She remembers.

This parasitical body snatcher is a composite of unresolved pain and guilt and grief. Because one version of Toni died that day – the bright Oxford-bound lover of books and do-gooding school clubs – and this uncanny valley version took her place. What’s left is a too-keen gym bunny who urgently wants to be the hero of everybody’s tale.

To achieve this transformation, Ridley’s script is full of character, heart and keen detail. His lusty appetite for story, the darker the better, help to create a topical slice of gothic horror lightened by moments of utmost tenderness. It is perhaps 10 minutes too long, especially in the later stages, but accomplished, nevertheless.

For all the cleverness, laughter and texture in the script, it is the sinister contortions of Georgie Henley that will stick in the memory. Especially that manic dead-eyed smile, reminiscent of the innocent we met at the start of the evening but now fixed and crazed as Toni is compelled to make stand after stand against the dark tyranny of her memories.

This is a story about second chances when second chances are the last resort. To illustrate this, Georgie Henley destroys us with the scale of her loss. Her performance is courageous and raw. It is a magnificent and terrible thing to watch.

THE MAIDS

Jermyn Street Theatre

★★★

“Martin Crimp’s translation faithfully brings out the anarchic poetry of Genet’s language”

THE MAIDS

Jermyn Street Theatre

Reviewed on 10th January 2025

by Jonathan Evans

Photography by Steve Gregson

Previously reviewed at this venue:

The Maids

Maids

The Maids

TARANTULA

Arcola Theatre

★★★★

“a magnificent and terrible thing to watch”

TARANTULA

Arcola Theatre

Reviewed on 10th January 2025

by Giles Broadbent

Photography by Kate Hockenhull

Previously reviewed at this venue:

TARANTULA

TARANTULA

TARANTULA