“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.
“frequent unwieldiness and occasional verbosity meant that it was hard to connect with these women’s emotionally-charged stories”
These two monologues were driven by compelling, nuanced performances. But overall, frequently excessive prose and a lack of direction meant the potential of these pieces was swallowed by a paucity of theatricality.
Jade-Marie Joseph and Grace-Anne Rossi led the audience with integrity and strong stage presences, a challenge in the Etcetera Theatre’s small black box auditorium. Joseph convincingly chatters to a line of stuffed toys, which she lines up like another row of audience. This was a clever piece of staging, as the audience simultaneously felt twice removed from the action, and closer to the fragility of her mental state, which is like a wall between her and the outside world. Joseph’s performance was occasionally beautifully detailed, and she managed transitions between characters – or, voices – well, aided by changes in lighting. However, a bolder directorial choice, to make the manifestations of her inner turmoil more stylised, would have drawn the audience into empathy. As it was, the laxness in pace made it difficult to invest in her story.
Grace-Anne Rossi held herself like a piece of taut elastic which could snap at any moment, balancing poise with a restless, anxious energy. Addressing an imaginary interviewer, Rossi remained static, sat at a table drinking countless glasses of wine. Despite this stultifying lack of staging, Rossi still brought light and shade to her performance: a realism which the script failed to flesh out, and a watchability which the sparse direction hindered.
The themes explored in A Woman’s World / Monster of State of mental health; the cost of feminine ideals; and how societal pressures can cripple self-worth, are so important – and it is always refreshing to see women create a forum for discussion of these on stage. But simply creating the forum is not enough. While Tony Hyland’s writing showed flashes of promise, its frequent unwieldiness and occasional verbosity meant that it was hard to connect with these women’s emotionally-charged stories. Unfortunately, oftentimes the writing sagged into sluggishly-sketched female stereotypes. Holly J Kasselder’s direction could have given the experience much needed variations in pace, place and tone. Both works, though not without good ideas, were in need of a further few drafts before being lifted from the page.
