Tag Archives: Nina Segal

Shooting Hedda Gabler

Shooting Hedda Gabler

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Rose Theatre Kingston

SHOOTING HEDDA GABLER at the Rose Theatre Kingston

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Shooting Hedda Gabler

“this is an extremely sharp interpretation. Funny and chilling, entertaining and thought provoking”

Henrik Ibsen’s nineteenth century drama, β€œHedda Gabler” has often been hailed as a masterpiece and described as a female variation of β€˜Hamlet’. And like Shakespeare, Ibsen’s works have also been subject to modern interpretations, twists and re-writes. It is an inevitable exercise with a work that is well over a century old; the success of which largely depends on how much of the original essence is retained whilst striking a chord with contemporary audiences. Nina Segal’s β€œShooting Hedda Gabler” scores on both counts with an ingenious unfolding of the story on a twenty-first century film set in Norway.

After being offered the title role in a movie of β€˜Hedda Gabler’, an American actress grabs the opportunity as an escape route from Hollywood and a scandal involving a violent run-in with the paparazzi. Although quite a success in America, she feels trapped by her celebrity status and perceived lack of artistic credibility. She is privileged but powerless. Arriving in Norway, however, she is merely powerless. The play opens with a quite remarkable scene during which she is introduced to her fellow cast members and director who not only have little time for her status but openly mock it. The tone is set with a mix of observation, satire and biting humour.

Hedda is in a world she wasn’t prepared for. Reality and fiction become blurred. Interestingly we never learn the names of the actors portrayed in this play – only their character names in the movie shoot – a device which further enhances the indistinction. Antonia Thomas, as Hedda Gabler, pitches the right amount of incredulity with a fierce resilience to keep her head above water and, indeed gives as good as she gets. She is immediately up against Henrik, the demanding and Machiavellian director, who demands that the aim is β€˜not to seem to be, but to be’. He will go to any lengths to get the shot. Christian Rubeck is a commanding presence as Henrik who runs his studio like an amoral professor conducting a psycho-scientific experiment.

“The fragile humour gives way to tension as the atmosphere becomes increasingly claustrophobic”

It is a very clever and radical interpretation, but we never lose sight of the parallels with Ibsen’s original, aided by the exemplary performances. Joshua James, as the actor playing Hedda’s husband JΓΈrgen, brilliantly mixes the humble resignation of JΓΈrgen’s character with the aloof arrogance of the actor reluctantly playing a role which he feels is beneath him. Matilda Bailes, as Thea, throws in moments of comedy when it transpires she is also the studio’s therapist and intimacy director. Anna Andresen, as Berta the unappreciated AD, tries to hold it all together with an officiousness that often breaks under Henrik’s dictatorial hand. The fragile humour gives way to tension as the atmosphere becomes increasingly claustrophobic, the suspense further mounting when Henrik calculatedly recruits another movie star and real-life ex-lover of Hedda to play her on-screen ex-lover Ejlert (a charismatic Avi Nash who manages to make the character more tragic than perhaps Ibsen even intended).

If it sounds convoluted on the page, it does actually make sense on the stage and it is at times gripping. The undercurrents are captured, too, by HansjΓΆrg Schmidt’s atmospheric lighting which clearly flickers between the reality, and the unreality when the cameras roll. A prior knowledge of Ibsen’s original is, if not absolutely necessary, a very useful requirement. But Segal has created something unique with this adaptation which could act as a stand-alone commentary on certain unfavourable aspects of today’s film industry. I’m not sure how much we are supposed to analyse the text but there are definite messages about the role of feminism in Hollywood and the more contentious topics of male domination, misogyny, manipulation and abuse. Ibsen predates the golden era of Hollywood in which starlets would customarily be under the control of tyrannical moguls. Segal’s version comes high on the wave that has thankfully brought that to account, and she balances these issues well without them pulling focus from what is a very acute piece of writing.

β€œShooting Hedda Gabler” is occasionally surreal, the climax of Act Two perhaps a touch too bizarre, with the question of the current AI controversy and the effects of CGI on moviemaking unnecessarily thrown into the mix. It distances us too much from the heart of the story. But otherwise, this is an extremely sharp interpretation. Funny and chilling, entertaining and thought provoking.


SHOOTING HEDDA GABLER at the Rose Theatre Kingston

Reviewed on 4th October 2023

by Jonathan Evans

Photography by Andy Paradise


Rose Theatre Kingston

 

 

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Shooting Hedda Gabler

Shooting Hedda Gabler

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My White Best Friend

My White Best Friend
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The Bunker

My White Best Friend

My White Best Friend (and Other Letters Left Unsaid)

The Bunker

Reviewed – 20th March 2019

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“Using the word show seems a bit weird. It wasn’t really a show. It was an event, a sharing.”

 

Yesterday evening at The Bunker felt unlike any evening I’ve ever spent in a theatre, and as such, I felt it was right to write about it in a totally different way. I’ve introduced an I for starters, and so I’m going to introduce myself too. I’m a cis, pansexual, middle class white woman, aged 48. It feels essential to let you know this, as the series of evenings which Rachel De-Lahay and Millie Bhatia have curated put identity centre stage – racial identity, class identity, sexual identity and gender identity – and one of the things that last night made very clear, is that we can only view things through our own identity prism. So the old myth of the invisible critic just won’t wash.

The Bunker felt like a club last night. Buzzy. There was an excellent DJ, we were all standing, and we were offered a drink (rum and Ting, delicious) when we walked into the space. It was a young crowd and it looked and felt and sounded like London; like the London that is outside, that we journeyed through to get there. Which felt great. And made me realise how rare that is. There were knots of friends chatting, predominantly people of colour, and a sense of relaxed ownership, a comfortable knowledge – this night is for us, and about us – which I could only share from the edges. And that feeling taught me something, even before the show began. Even using the word show seems a bit weird. It wasn’t really a show. It was an event, a sharing.

Rachel De-Lahay’s idea is a simple one: different writers leave a letter to be read out loud by a specific performer. The letter is in a sealed envelope and the performer reads it live, having never read it before. The evening kicks off with a long letter that Rachel wrote to one of her best friends, InΓ¨s de Clercq, and it is InΓ¨s who reads it. The letter is honest, and funny and uncomfortable for InΓ¨s to read, as it is a reminder that no matter how much Rachel loves her, her race can’t help but play a part in their relationship. It is uncomfortable for any white person to hear, to witness, to think about, and that’s the point. The young woman standing in front of me was completely overwhelmed by tears half way through this reading, and, throughout the night, the electricity of words being spoken that are so often, too often, left unsaid, was palpable. There was a charge; the air crackled with it. Of urgency, of energy, of presence.

The next letter was written as a piece of spoken word poetry. Fantastic writing by Jammz; it also dealt with race in friendship, and Ben Bailey Smith (‘I’m mixed race, so I’m my own white best friend’) was direct and charming, and did the words justice. The final, and longest letter of the evening was written by Zia Ahmed and read by Zainab Hasan. This took a different form again, with Zainab reading out a selection of quotes – from Zia himself, from the Home Secretary Sajid Javid, from popular Muslim comedians – before reading Zia’s unbearably painful story of continual racist profiling which led him finally to stop his job as a nanny.

It went against the grain to give this show a star rating, as the words and stories of these artists and performers don’t need my critical validation, but they do need to be listened to. So consider my five stars a way of saying that this is essential theatre. Get yourself a ticket and open your ears.

 

Reviewed by Rebecca Crankshaw

Photography courtesy The Bunker

 


My White Best Friend (and Other Letters Left Unsaid)

The Bunker until 23rd March

 

Last ten shows reviewed at this venue:
Section 2 | β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜… | June 2018
Breathe | β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜… | August 2018
Eris | β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜… | September 2018
Reboot: Shorts 2 | β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜… | October 2018
Semites | β˜…β˜…β˜… | October 2018
Chutney | β˜…β˜…β˜… | November 2018
The Interpretation of Dreams | β˜…β˜…β˜… | November 2018
Sam, The Good Person | β˜…β˜…β˜… | January 2019
Welcome To The UK | β˜…β˜… | January 2019
Boots | β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜… | February 2019

 

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