Tag Archives: Simon Stone

“Phaedra” at the National Theatre

This new play is inspired by works from Euripides, Seneca and Racine, but director and writer Simon Stone’s ambition is to present a story for our times. Brimming with contemporary concerns, in an arguably self-conscious fashion, this production is superbly performed and perfectly stylish.

First up, there’s privilege. For Phaedra we have Helen, a successful and wealthy politician full of charisma and undoubtedly powerful. It’s a change to the source material that makes sense and, taking the title role, Janet McTeer has a regal quality. You can picture the admiration, and envy, of those around her.

The family Helen dominates is Stone’s idea of the liberal elite – oh-so erudite and out of touch. The dinner table has conflict and quotes – Helen’s son, daughter and husband are full of wit and neurosis. Their chat is funny, but it might be hard to relate to this family, especially given Chloe Lamford’s design.

The set is a glass box (remember Yerma?) but, here, it rotates. The sense of voyeurism engendered is intense. It’s with the sound design that the eye-catching idea comes into its own – characters can talk over one another and speak at volumes not normally possible on stage.

Into the mix comes Sofiane, the son of Helen’s long-deceased lover. Everyone’s lives start to get messy (do they have real problems for a change?).  While Assaad Bouab has great presence in the role, bringing a magnetism to match McTeer, I’m not sure his character is really the ‘enigma’ the play claims. Open about motivations and desires, Sofiane is also very clearly a vehicle for the topic of colonialism.

Sirine-Saba-and-Assaad-Bouab-in-Phaedra-at-the-National-Theatre-Photo-by-Johan-Persson
Sirine Saba and Assaad Bouab

Intersecting with Helen’s privilege, voiceovers from Sofiane’s father (that fill in scene changes) are fantastic. But if the intention was to give the colonised experience a voice, then more is needed. Thankfully, the final scenes in Morocco are excellent and there’s a starring role for Sofiane’s wife. Also good is the fascinating role for Helen’s friend and colleague Omolara – a brilliant Akiya Henry – who roots the play by being removed from the heady action.

Akiya-Henry-in-Phaedra-at-the-National-Theatre-Photo-by-Johan-Persson
Akiya Henry

When it comes to the passion Phaedra is famous for, whether it convinces a modern audience is an open question. Nowadays, we have a short list of taboos – would Helen’s actions really have ended her career? More interestingly, there is an engagement with the theme of compromise in the play that is appropriate in our polarised times.

The lust Helen experiences leads to great drama – this show is exciting. Framing selfish actions as a protest against ageism and misogyny is a confrontational strategy. But is the finale surprisingly conservative? As in his source material, the woman must be punished. And, in the end, for all its qualities, that makes Phaedra feel old-fashioned.

Until 8 April 2023

www.nationaltheatre.org.uk

“Yerma” at the Young Vic

For all the praise heaped on Simon Stone’s adaptation of Federico García Lorca’s play, my heart sank when the curtain rose to reveal two of my pet hates: the action takes place in a glass box and sound is relayed to the audience. Separated from the audience twice over, it’s an isolating experience. But this clinical technique, putting lives under surveillance, is actually used to perfection.

‘Her’, the contemporary Londoner whose life we follow in chapters, has it all – even a house. From the start, Billie Piper shows she’s worthy of the Olivier award she received for this performance, endearing us towards a character she makes instantly recognisable. The chemistry with her onstage husband is similarly convincing (taking that role, Brendan Cowell should have picked up a trophy, too).

It turns out that ‘Her’ has everything except a baby. The play follows her efforts to get pregnant with painful exactitude. The effects on the family are detailed with further great performances from Charlotte Randle and Maureen Beattie as ‘Her’ sister and mother. As desperation increases, mental health deteriorates rapidly and Piper’s performance becomes harrowing.

Stone is forceful about bringing his adaptation into the here and now. Piper’s character is a journalist, with blog posts that becomes increasingly personal. Egged on by a younger colleague (Thalissa Teixeira) the over-sharing may be predictable but it’s startling and provides pause for thought.

On a very literal level, it seems hard not to view the play as reductive – woman goes mad because she can’t reproduce – and it’s impossible not to feel uncomfortable about this. To add to such a challenge is the assumption the modern woman has fewer societal expectations since Lorca wrote in 1934. But does she? That desire to confirm is the uneasy question Stone leaves hanging, making his work a vital piece of theatre.

Until 31 August 2017

www.youngvic.org

Photo by Johan Persson