“not just a relevant topical play, it convinces with its intimacy, incisiveness and suspense”
What do you do when you realise that your inner demons are taking over your life, but you are embarrassed to reach out for help because others might need it more? What do you do when you don’t get any help because you are still “functioning”? Ophelia problematises the stigma around mental health issues through the stories of three different people, connected through Ophelia and the mental illnesses they suffer.
Looking at the stage from above in a confined, black room feels like glancing at the inside of the characters, seeing the battle inside them raging while they are completely alone in this dark space. The acting is powerful, the monologues moving from intimate confessions to brutal anger within seconds. Particularly, Comfort Fabian manages to create an intimate atmosphere filled with revelations that are both honest and difficult. Director Kieran Rogers plays with the unintentional voyeurism of watching someone relating their secret inner struggles by symbolically letting one of the characters undress as she is shedding all pretence and attempts of fulfilling the expectations of her surroundings.
Although each character has a unique background and they all highlight different aspects of mental illness, there are themes that occur again and again: loneliness, shame, fear and guilt. All of these are reasons for the characters not to reach out for help. It is the insistence of functioning in our society and the stigmatisation of illness that creates a dilemma for them, preventing them from getting the help they need.
Despite this powerful message and the many important issues the play addresses, it has lengths at times and the ending is rather abrupt. After having seen the agonies those three people suffer, it would have been good to see some solutions, but Ophelia leaves the audience with more questions than answers. Personifying mental illness as Ophelia and presenting it like a relationship contributes to the understanding of the struggles of those affected but it soon becomes rather distracting with questions about Ophelia overshadowing the actual topic.
Nevertheless, the play contributes to the understanding of mental illness, showing vividly that it is not just about pulling yourself together, that it goes much deeper than some people might think, and that those affected desperately need help. By criticising the stigmatisation of mental health, it demonstrates that this is a problem that is not yet taken seriously enough in the public debate. Ophelia, however, is not just a relevant topical play, it convinces with its intimacy, incisiveness and suspense.
Pulling off Greek tragedy for a modern audience, and especially one not versed in its conventions, is hard. Aside from the issue of translation, the presence of gods as characters, the heavily gendered and misogynistic stereotypes, and the unfamiliar device of the chorus can all be alienating. This production successfully navigates most of these pitfalls, with some excellent performances and a modern, idiomatic translation by James Kerr.
The hyper-masculine world of the Greek camp in the Trojan war is replaced by an all-female one in what is, according to the programme, meant to be the near future. There’s a disappointing lack of sense of cohesive time or place, but the claustrophobic community and stress and trauma of battle are clearly portrayed. This is aided by the small ensemble of only six, many doubling roles.
The ever-difficult problem of what to do with the chorus is managed well; the soldiers discuss events amongst themselves and sing in some sections, echoing the delivery of the main performance. Erica Martin’s central performance as Ajax is accomplished, though it occasionally wants a little more depth, and a greater sense of her position on the brink of sanity would be welcome. Her wife Tecmessa (Noga Flashion) is the only human woman in the original Greek, and here gives us a dose of traditional femininity. The remaining actors all form both the chorus and the more minor roles. Ajax’s sister Teucer (Fay Jagger) is striking in her portrayal of grief, and Comfort Fabian makes a good Odysseus, controlled and assured for the most part, but with suggestions of greater depths that we do not see. Laura Trosser is both the goddess Athena and Ajax’s daughter Eurysaces. The cast is completed by Rudzani Moleya, who gives an excellent though brief performance as Agamemnon, capturing the character’s arrogance with its edge of petulance.
Director Maria Makenna has kept most of the production simple, with minimalistic sets. There are occasional missteps, such as Eurysaces’ unnecessary flailing around on the floor while the audience enters, but these are outweighed by the rest of the otherwise streamlined and well-paced production. This is an innovative version of an underperformed play, with an emotional core that really hits home.
