Boycotting Trends.
Film, Theatre & Music Musings.
Monday, 7 September 2026
Theatre Review: Kimberly Akimbo (Hampstead Theatre)
Monday, 31 August 2026
Theatre Review: Electra/Persona (Lyttelton, National Theatre)
*review contains some spoilers*
"Few film 'classics' still feel so modern," wrote David Thompson about Ingmar Bergman's Persona (1966), the prickly, enigmatic modernist jewel released 60 years ago this year, and voted the 18th 'Greatest Film of All Time' in the last Sight and Sound poll.
As much as it has a theatrical root - exploring the complicated, symbiotic relation between a silent actress, Elisabeth Vogler (Liv Ullmann), and the garrulous nurse, Alma (Bibi Andersson), who takes care of her after Elisabeth breaks down on stage during a performance of Electra and stops speaking - Persona is deeply and self-consciously cinematic, with its "burning-up-celluloid" effect and other jarring, experimental elements. So much so that Bergman once apparently thought to title the film "A Piece of Cinematography."
All of that surely makes Persona quite an unlikely candidate for a theatrical adaptation. But Benedict Andrews' new production, just opened at the National Theatre's Lyttelton, rises to the challenge in ways that, for this viewer at least, exceeded expectations.
I've so far not been a fan of Andrews' productions, which have mostly felt abrasive, with set designs by Magda Willi that don't so much enhance the plays as just offend the eye.
But this new project seems to play to Andrews' strengths in many ways. The elaborate "cine-theatre" trappings, and Willi's imposing but unfussy set of sheer pine steps, create an elegant space for an exploration of blurring identities and enduring maternal angst.
Mostly, though, the production's asset is its pair of great actresses at the top of their game. Cate Blanchett and Nina Hoss don't eclipse their iconic screen predecessors, but they find new ways into the roles, and bring a rich shared history to the stage.
As the show's title suggests, Andrews' innovation here is to supplement his version of the film with a staging of the play that Elisabeth is performing in during her opening moment of "break down." Electra takes up around 50 minutes of the production's interval-free 2 hour 10 running time, and seems very much inspired by Andrews' recent work on The Oresteia in Reykjavik.
And the production's other major conceit - borrowed, probably, from Robert Icke's Mary Stuart of a decade or so ago - is to have the two leads swap roles on different nights, the decision made by a coin toss at the top of the show. (If you're in or around stalls seat A22, you might even end up being the lucky punter who gets to flip the coin.)
On the night I attended, Blanchett was Electra/Elisabeth and Hoss Clytemnestra/Alma. The cast is completed by Patrick Robinson, on hand to essay two extremely thankless roles as Aegisthus in Electra and Elisabeth's unnamed husband in Persona; and Ella Lily Hyland who gets a bit more to do as Chrysothemis/Doctor - and an occasional Bergman-like narrator.
Moreover, as if they didn't both have enough on their plates already, Hoss and Blanchett also essentially get to play Bergman's cinematographer Sven Nykvist, too. During the transition between the Electra and Persona sections, a large screen drops centre stage, and - camera in hand - the actresses themselves proceed to do most of the live filming that's presented on it.
A fairly heady brew, then. But the production keeps the proceedings fluid, flowing.
As Electra, Blanchett starts out at an extraordinarily high emotional pitch, as she clambers up the steps, groaning in grief, and repeating phrases ("Makes me sick!" "Blood for blood!"). There's brutal wit in the portrayal too, and, hammer in hand, Blanchett's physical and vocal inhibition makes her retreat into silence as Elisabeth in the second half all the more effective.
Hoss, as Clytemnestra, finds impatience, defensiveness and some surprising maternal love in the character. The set of steps - strewn with costumes as Electra forces the other characters into role-playing the family drama - gives a ceremonial air to the mother/daughter tussle, even as Andrews' version keeps things loose and contemporary (sometimes cringe-makingly so: Electra's description of Aegisthus as Clytemnestra''s "fuckboy").
Following the nicely accomplished transition into Persona - with crew emerging to clean the stage - Blanchett's work with the camera proves especially expressive, whether she's filming herself in ravaged proximity as Elisabeth hides under Clytemnestra's coat - Bergman's probing close-ups meet contemporary selfie culture here - or peering down from the screen as Hoss brilliantly and breathlessly delivers Alma's notorious erotic monologue - a suggestion of Elisabeth's parasitic, vampiric tendencies.
Andrews' effort to make mother/daughter relationships a throughline of the show means changing the sex of Elisabeth's neglected child in this account; he also quite effectively incorporates Bergman's original ending over the not-too-satisfying filmed one. Otherwise, many of the film's events are recreated fairly faithfully. The production's attempts to duplicate the ghostly doublings and superimpositions of Nykvist's cinematography are sometimes effective, sometimes forced. And there's the occasional recourse to stale "cine-theatre" cliché, like the inevitable filmed dash out of the auditorium that here finds Blanchett's mute Elisabeth artfully posed by a "Silence!" sign.
| Ullmann and Blanchett (Photo by Brigette Lacombe) |
But there are many dazzling moments too. And, importantly, this staging also has layers, unspoken but nonetheless felt: of Howard Davies' great production of Mourning Becomes Electra in this auditorium some 23 years ago; of Blanchett's loving association with Liv Ullmann on A Streetcar Named Desire; of her parallel histories of certain stage roles with Hoss; and, of course, of the actresses' collaboration as a creative couple in Todd Field's magnificent Tár (2022). (That film's composer, Hildur Guðnadóttir, is another returning collaborator here, adding primal ambience.)
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| Hoss and Blanchett in Tár |
| Electra/Persona is an intense, strange, compelling hybrid: measured yet pacy; part cinema, part theatre; pretentious but emotionally accessible, too. Whether you view the switching up of roles as a vital extension of the themes of duality, or just as a gimmick, it makes taking a chance on revisiting the production a tempting prospect, to see what each actress makes of the other part. I for one definitely wouldn't say no. Electra/Persona is booking at the National Theatre until 10 October. It's sold out but tickets are still available through Friday Rush. Further details here. |
Thursday, 27 August 2026
WYWROTY/SUBVERSIONS: on the 15th International Retroperspektywy Theatre Festival, Łódź (20-30 August, 2026)
"I didn't know who I was supposed to be...at fifteen," sang Taylor Swift, about two decades ago. Retroperspektywy Festival, by contrast, seems notably secure in its identity as it reaches that same birthday this year, even as the festival continues to grow, expand, adapt, evolve.
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| Audience watching The Tiger Lillies concert |
Disruptive, punky spirit, embracing warmth, social concern, intellectual depth, drive to experiment, and sheer playfulness and fun remain the characteristics of one of Łódź's most exciting and vital cultural events, which combines theatre shows and concerts with workshops, "happenings," exhibitions, DJ sets, dance, discussions, and more.
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| Tomasz Rodowicz in Konferencja ptaków |
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| Ola Shaya |
According to Rodowicz, the intention of this year's edition - one that resonates with the festival each year, really - is "to open people up, to burst bubbles" through, as main programmer Ola Shaya puts it, the creation of "communal experiences where the divide between artist and audience dissolves."
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| Konferencja ptaków |
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| Konferencja ptaków |
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| Konferencja ptaków |
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| Lament/ر ِ ﺛﺎء” |
Friday, 7 August 2026
Monday, 3 August 2026
Theatre Review: The Smile of Her (Marylebone Theatre)
Over 40 years on, Kael's great descriptions hold true for Lahti on stage, where she continues to "change our image of women," this time with a deeply personal work.
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| (Photo: Mark Senior) |
This summer the actress/writer/director is making her quite unexpected but very welcome London theatre debut in The Smile of Her, which premiered three years ago at the Berkshire Theatre Group's Unicorn Theatre in Massachusetts, in a production by Robert Egan.
Unlike Susan Sarandon's very low-key first foray onto the UK boards last year as one of the five incarnations of Mary Page Marlowe, Lahti's stage debut here could hardly be bolder or more self-revealing. Not only is The Smile of Her self-penned, it's also intensely confessional; the play takes off from Lahti's book of autobiographical essays True Stories from an Unreliable Eyewitness (2018), which in turn originated from her performance of some of those pieces as monologues in small NYC venues.
| (Photo: Mark Senior) |
The Smile of Her comes to London in a fresh, tweaked new production by Mêlisa Annis at the Marylebone Theatre. Girl-group pop warmly welcomes the audience into the show before Lahti, casually resplendent in red, takes to Sarah Beaton's spare, sofa-dominated set to begin her story.
The female-fronted creative team seems appropriate for a play that feels very much of the #MeToo moment in its focus on Lahti's feminist awakenings. These are explored as they occurred on the home front - in memories of her middle-class Michigan childhood, her siblings, her authoritarian father and compliant mother (to whom the title refers). And also in the professional arena as she recalls her first forays into acting - inspired when she saw a production of Long Day's Journey Into Night and headed to New York, "where all bad bitches go to make their dreams come true."
Across 90 compelling, cathartic, frequently funny and sometimes gut-wrenching minutes, Lahti reveals her growing awareness of the power dynamics in her family and the wider inequalities they point to, and recalls some disturbing encounters with industry men. (Though celebrated by Kael, Lahti's height definitely wasn't considered an asset by some of those in power in her chosen profession.)
| (Photo: Mark Senior) |
The Smile of Her isn't quite a monologue. As well as serving as audience-addressing narrator, and playing her family members in quick, revealing sketches, Lahti also interacts with her childhood self (well played by Isabella Ford). With notable wit, fierceness and generosity of spirit, Lahti moves fluidly between roles, moods and perspectives, keeping the proceedings pacey but also nuanced and thoughtful (she also dealt elegantly with a tech hitch on the night I saw the show).
The language is sometimes crude, sometimes lyrical; pitched somewhere between Fleabag and The Year of Magical Thinking, the show emerges as something distinctive: part memoir, part drama, part social history, part therapy.
Looking back, Lahti's film choices often displayed a feminist bent - the aforementioned Swing Shift, plus Housekeeping (1987) and Leaving Normal (1992), for instance. While it's fun to see some footage of her hilarious 1998 Golden Globes win, I'd have loved to hear more about her particular experiences on those films instead.
But maybe Lahti prefers to be quite vague about aspects of her career in order to avoid solipsism and to give more space to the audience. For, ultimately, it's the family dynamics that cast the longest shadows here, as Lahti movingly honours the traumas experienced by two of her sisters and details a reconciliation with the mother who her college consciousness-raising had distanced her from.
As a work of contemporary feminism, The Smile of Her is intergenerational but not "intersectional"; it might be viewed as an example of what's these days sometimes fashionably disparaged as "white feminism." Perhaps such labelling, with its reversed hierarchies of value, only serves to create more division, though. Part of what the play conveys so powerfully is the Second Wave tenet that our most intimate, affective experiences often shape our political consciousness - and how our perceptions can shift over time.
Lahti tells us at one point that she was drawn to acting for its ability to explore all of life's "messy, ugly and beautiful" aspects. Drawing on painful personal experience to deliver one of the year's essential stage performances, she ensures that The Smile of Her conveys all of that in spades. The show comes warmly recommended. And here's to Lahti's return to London after this run ... Long Day's Journey Into Night, anyone?
The Smile of Her is at Marylebone Theatre until 29 August. Further information here.
Friday, 24 July 2026
Finest Hours: Danny Glover in To Sleep with Anger (BFI online)
On the occasion of Danny Glover's 80th birthday I wrote about his performance in Charles Burnett's To Sleep With Anger (1990). You can read the piece here.
Sunday, 5 July 2026
Spaces of Freedom: Reflections on the 25th Edition of Fotofestiwal, Łódź (18-28 June, 2026)
Vive la résistance, Marta Bogdańska ©️ Fotofestiwal |
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| Kino Utopia ©️ Fotofestiwal Łódź |
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| American Cycles, Philip Montgomery ©️ Fotofestiwal Łódź / Philip Montgomery |
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| Flipping the Bird, Jaap Scheeren/Rik van den Bos ©️ Fotofestiwal Łódź / Jaap Scheeren |
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| Luke Stephenson, An Incomplete History of Show Birds ©️ Fotofestiwal Łódź |
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| Listening All Night to the Rain ©️ Fotofestiwal Łódź/ John Akomfrah |
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| Listening All Night to the Rain ©️ Fotofestiwal Łódź / John Akomfrah |
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| Listening All Night to the Rain ©️ Fotofestiwal Łódź / John Akomfrah |
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| American Beauty, Izabela Łapińska ©️ Fotofestiwal Łódź / Izabela Łapińska |























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