★★

“Hampton is not a writer known for his humour, but the script is relentlessly grim”

Since Hampstead Theatre lost its Arts Council funding their programming has been shaped by the need for philanthropic donations. It seems a safe choice then, to programme the UK premiere of the latest Christopher Hampton adaptation, which will surely encourage audience attendance. Unfortunately, while this play explores many of Hampton’s favourite themes – memory and time, loss and obsession, seduction – it falls emotionally flat and is overwritten to the point of parody.

The story is moving, if slightly sentimental. It is based on a Zweig novella of the same name and is set against the building xenophobic tensions of 1930s Vienna. But this political context gets only the briefest of nods. Instead, the play focusses on two characters, a middle-aged writer, Stefan, whose biography seems curiously similar to Zweig’s own, and a mysterious young woman, Marianne, whose sexual enthusiasm is made disquieting by a peculiar familiarity with Stefan’s life. The story unravels into a personal tragedy, with sex and casual cruelty at its poignant heart.

Chelsea Walker’s direction shines in the passion between the two, but somehow fails to inject this verbose two hander with the necessary emotional depth to carry it.

Hampton is not a writer known for his humour, but the script is relentlessly grim. Marianne’s story in particular, is emotionally monotonal. Whether that’s the script, performance or direction is unclear, but there is a sore lack of light and shade.

The dynamic between the two should be fascinating, but Marianne’s unrelenting and unbelievable selflessness feels more like Zweig’s (or Hampton’s) own fantasy than a real woman.

James Corrigan, playing Stefan, has been brought on late into the process, only taking over the role after the first week of performances, and bearing that in mind his performance is impressive. He plays the writer as a Hugh Grant-esque bumbling charmer. It’s a good performance, but maybe lacks the magnetism which can birth the level of obsession which the play explores. Natalie Simpson’s performance is a little one note, but as discussed, that’s not entirely her fault. It would’ve been interesting to see this character unravel more, but there are a couple of moments where Simpson’s range is unleashed. Nigel Hastings has a walk on part of Johann the butler, which feels a little random, but he embodies it well. Jessie Gattward as a young Marianne is deeply sinister, with a moment of pained physical theatre which works well in balance with the naturalism.

The set (Rosanna Vize), sound (Peter Rice) music (Max Perryment) and lighting (Bethany Gupwell) are excellent. The set is an apartment, with a landing, and a huge pile of wilted white roses rotting in the darkened corner outside. The music, at one point echoed by Corrigan on the piano, provides a haunting refrain as the play shifts through time and memory. The lighting alters to play with shadow, building an excellent atmosphere which never quite comes to a climax.

Of all novellas ever written, or even all Zweig novellas, this is a strange one to choose to adapt. Perhaps the most interesting thing about it lies in the biographical hints of Zweig’s own life – he wrote it shortly before he left Vienna for South America where he committed suicide. Knowing that (or reading the programme) brings moving light onto the reaction of the writer, but without it, the play feels a little adrift, almost like a scene within a longer play to which the audience is not privy.

THE DIVINE MRS S at the Hampstead Theatre

★★★★

“A delightful mix of the traditional and the contemporary.”

In her time, Sarah Siddons was known as the Queen of Drury Lane, renowned for her roles in Shakespeare tragedies – especially her Lady Macbeth. She hung out with the top dramatists of the time, including David Garrick and Samuel Johnson. She had the leading artists fawning over her, desperate for her to be the subject of their paintings. Yet this powerful woman also personified the powerlessness of women at the time. It is the tail end of the eighteenth century. Women were deprived of money, couldn’t own property, and had no real legal rights. No control over their children – nor even their own bodies.

April De Angelis’ play “The Divine Mrs S” takes us backstage, shedding light on the personal tragedy behind the grand ‘tragedies’ portrayed under the spotlights. Sarah Siddons’ acting career was under the direct control of her imposing brother (actor and manager John Kemble), and it was her husband who received her fees and signed her contracts. She was shunted off on a provincial tour when it looked like her acting would upstage her male counterparts. All the while her children appeared to be dropping like flies all around her. But De Angelis, whilst highlighting the dreadful state of affairs, steers well clear of worthy polemic or earnest tragedy, and instead dresses Siddons’ fight for self-expression and self-determination in a couple of hours of very fine comedy.

The language has a contemporary feel while harking back to Restoration Comedy, French Farce, and even touches of Commedia Dell’arte thrown in. De Angelis pokes fun at all the right characters, but doesn’t let righteousness intrude. In occasionally breaking the fourth wall, a charming self-deprecation is allowed to colour Siddons’ earnestness as she conspires with the audience, commenting on everyone’s foibles – including her own.

This mix of feistiness and fun is in no better hands than Rachael Stirling. The sharpness of Stirling’s delivery of Siddons’ words matches the biting wit De Angelis has given those words. Set mainly in the confines of the dressing room it encapsulates the whole world of the theatre. Dominic Rowan neatly conveys the lecherous misogyny of theatre manager Kemble, hamming it up to ridiculous heights when called upon to actually ‘act’ on the stage next to his far more talented sister. Anushka Chakravarti shines as Siddons’ all-knowing maid, dresser, personal assistant and ultimately counsellor. Meanwhile Eva Feiler, Sadie Shimmin and Gareth Snook multirole in excess to bring all the other characters onstage, in the right order and in the right costume. Most notable of these is Feiler’s Joanna Baillie; the writer who has to conceal the fact that she is a woman otherwise her plays will not get staged. When Kemble discovers her true gender he pulls her play, even though it is the most successful production he’s had for a while.

Even that contentious issue is dealt with in good humour. They say that if you want people to listen to you, the best way is to make them laugh. And there are even more laughs in the second act. And also more pertinence. The concept gets trickier, but the message gets clearer as Stirling more frequently steps out of character, allowing her to cast a contemporary perspective on the eighteenth-century restrictions imposed on the woman she is playing.

“The Divine Mrs S” can’t really be labelled a comedy or a tragedy. But it encapsulates both, and addresses serious issues – serving them up as light entertainment. Historically that would classify it as a ‘Problem Play’. But I have no problem with this one at all. A delightful mix of the traditional and the contemporary.

VISIT FROM AN UNKNOWN WOMAN at Hampstead Theatre

★★

“Hampton is not a writer known for his humour, but the script is relentlessly grim”

VISIT FROM AN UNKNOWN WOMAN at Hampstead Theatre

Reviewed on 11th July 2024

by Auriol Reddaway

Photography by Marc Brenner

Previously reviewed at this venue:

VISIT FROM AN UNKNOWN WOMAN

VISIT FROM AN UNKNOWN WOMAN

THE DIVINE MRS S at the Hampstead Theatre

★★★★

“A delightful mix of the traditional and the contemporary.”

THE DIVINE MRS S at the Hampstead Theatre

Reviewed on 28th March 2024

by Jonathan Evans

Photography by Johan Persson

Previously reviewed at this venue:

THE DIVINE MRS S

THE DIVINE MRS S