Back in the long dark aeons of the past I studied A-level theatre studies with an eye to being a theatre designer – it was a bit of a short lived dream in part because I had a truly awful teacher (in two years she didn’t once suggest we actually go and see any theatre) and partly I was terrible at it (truly truly terrible, I got an F in the practical – it’s only a testament to how good I am at exams that I scraped a B overall). The one thing I did take away from the course though was a deep abiding love of Greek plays, a love only strengthened by restudying them at university from a political viewpoint. I especially adore Orestes by Euripides (something of a brother piece to this play as it followers almost immediately from Electra's end) – not only has it left me with one of my favourite tragic heroes, the pre-Hamlet, Orestes (Electra in this play herself has Hamlet-esque overtones, with her desire for revenge fighting against her ability to achieve it and the unclear line between how much of her madness is feigned and how much is true). Orestes also falls in a really fascinating period of Athenian history which means that the plays first performance must have been an exhilarating, incendiary event.
Greece was an arena where play going was part of a citizen’s responsibility, where plays were expected to be mentally and morally challenging and where playwrights were willing to risk taking on the society, the government and the gods. One of my issues with modern productions is that I think this aspect is often in danger of being forgotten, for the plays to become relegated as outdated museum pieces. Thankfully, with the Gate’s adaptation of Electra that was far from the case and what was left was one of the most thrilling performances I’ve seen this year. With the removal of some of the traditional elements, such as the gods, highlighting that this at its heart is still a highly relevant, highly emotional and highly painful human dilemma.
There was not a second’s doubt for me, despite the intensely dramatic situation they are found in, of these characters emotional reality or truthfulness. The performances were all superb, with the three siblings especially shining. Cath Whitefield as Electra is a hypnotic presence from start to end, rarely off stage and teetering edge-like between madness, anger and grief at each step – it’s a frequently disturbing and painful portrayal to watch. She is haunted throughout by a memory or ghost of her childhood self, a witness to the murder of her father by her mother (played equally well ans sensually by Madeleine Potter) and here filling the role of the chorus with a haunting broken innocence. Alex Price, who has been a TV favourite of mine for a while, proves equally compelling on stage – an oddly still, noble, powerful and steady presence as Orestes for the majority of the play, he is clearly mentally shattered by the final scenes. Completing the trio is Natasha Broomfield as Chrysothemis – a much more subtle performance than any of the others, but in many ways far more moving – she is the central pivot for the audience around which the other’s madness can turn.
Highlighting these dramatic performances is a production that manages to be both filmic and immersive. The set is low ceilinged and narrow with the audience sat on benches along either side and the action occurring within touching distance, traversely between them. Painted black and low lit, it felt to me half like we were sitting in judgement of the proceedings and half like we were trapped in the sauna-like environs where Agamemnon was slain – steam filling the air and the sound of water dripping a disconcerting presence. The lighting was simple but incredibly powerful – grates in the wall and floor illuminating characters and simple strip lights above creating both a sense of movement and frequently plunging the audience into darkness.
The play started with a sequence of snapshots separated by darkness - both revealing the past, illuminating the characters feelings and motivations and showing glimpses of what we are about to see. A child approaching the lit grate in the wall or washing blood from the floor, a woman curled in agony on the floor, a tall hooded man striding forward or a woman clawing at the floor. It was an intense opening to the show and left a moment of deep unsettlement and shock when these images returned during the course of the play – it leant a sense of inevitability and destiny to the proceedings. The last of these mentioned images also led to one of the more shocking and powerful moments I’ve seen in the theatre as Electra first smashed one of the slate flooring tiles and then proceeded to rip her way through five others and the floorboards beneath to reveal earth creating a grave and a gulf over which most of the remaining action centred. It was an incredible piece of set design.
Powerful, symbolic, real, emotional, dramatic, relentless and leaving me feeling deeply shaken at the end – it was a truly incredible production.
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