*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.
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| 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. |
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