When I watched the opening scene of Simon Stone’s Phaedra at the National, for a brief moment I thought that maybe this would be something new, something different, something fresh. I was laughing loudly at the brilliantly written, quick, sharp dialogue filled with jokes and quips. Not five minutes had gone past and I started to hope that this was an ancient tragedy re-imagined into a comedy that might just show up this myth for what it is – an outdated way of portraying the role of a woman in a man’s world.
Because for me, the myth of Phaedra has always been a story about men’s fears of the dangers associated with women having desires beyond the home hearth – a tragedy explored in different ways by greats like Euripides, Seneca and Racine. Depending on which version of the ancient tale you read or which play you choose, Phaedra might have had more or less agency – but there is no escaping the fact that her sexual desire always leads to tragedy.
At first I thought that in this rendering incest would be replaced with a self-assured, attractive older woman seducing her daughter’s husband. A perfect exploration of the conflict women feel between a mother’s duty and what we desire for ourselves as our own beings. I was mistaken.
Sadly, in this version all the nuance of the mythological Phaedra is replaced by making her not just villain number one, but by making her the only villain of the story. No more Theseus who has his son killed; just the arrogant, self-indulgent Phaedra who we are supposed to hate for having an affair with the son of her dead, married lover whose deaths she is directly responsible for.
But wait, there is another contender for the role of villain – Sofiane, who abandons his wife grieving for the loss of their child, starts an affair with a married woman and then seduces her married daughter. Unfortunately, he is beyond reproach – after all he is destined to repeat his father’s mistakes as the ‘tapes’ gently explain to us. And that absolves him of any responsibility for his own actions. It is just Phaedra that we are led to despise. She is, after all, a woman – and women should know better than to be more than their husbands, than to follow their passions, than to feed their children formula even if suffering from mastitis.
But in the context of the humour that permeates the script, I might have thought that this was actually the point – that this was a farce aimed at exposing the hypocrisy of the world we live in. Unfortunately, the final suicide scene, attempting to bring the play squarely back into the realms of tragedy, makes that interpretation simply not viable.
How you perceive theatre will always be influenced by your own personal experiences. And right now I am reading What women want by Maxine Mei-Fung Chung. No wonder I am feeling somewhat frustrated by the idea that as a woman I should not really give in to anything I might want for myself.
So at the end of the play, not only is this just another story about the tragic consequences of a woman giving into her passions, but it is also yet another story that makes out that a man’s infidelity is justifiable in the context of his personal experience, but a woman’s is always a sign of moral bankruptcy. Sofiane’s father was a philanderer, so is Sofiane – and yet the play tells us it is Phaedra we should shun. In line with what societal norms still imply.
Enough of my musings about the script – I guess the length of the musings means that the play did make me think, and for that I am grateful. Also, the acting was absolutely superb – there was chemistry between the people on stage, the dialogue sparkled. But as to the stage… I am not so sure….
When I went to see the Crucible last year, the stage, with the cuboid structure and water pouring down took my breath away. Then I went to see Lehman Trilogy – and the characters felt confound by a similar, but more closed-off structure for no particular reason. Here, the entire play takes play in a glass aquarium – we observe the play unfold as if we are looking at fish swimming around in a tank. There is something to the concept – but it does introduce a barrier between audience and actors – its more like watching television than going to the theatre. Now why would I want that? But to add injury to insult, too often the metal support beams obscure the view of the actor’s face – the voice comes through the speakers quite flat, I cannot see the actor talking – does not really scream live theatre to me…
Neither did the last scene that is, for the best part, spoken in Moroccan French – with subtitles flashed around the stage. Instead of watching the actors perform, I was trying to read the text being thrown at me. Authentic you say? Well if people speak a language you don’t understand – subtitles don’t exactly float around their heads translating their words for your convenience. So no – not authentic. Instead, I would have preferred the actors to speak English and the subtitles to be in the language of their speaking, conveying that they are conversing in a different tongue. That would have been more theatre and less Netflix.
Not a theatre critic – so under no obligation to dish out the stars. Thank goodness, as with this one – I would really struggle to give a rating. I am certainly glad that I went to see this show, as it made me laugh often and hard – and – as evidenced by the many male bosses at work telling me I should smile more – I clearly do not laugh often enough… And also, as evidenced by my musings, it most certainly made me think. Probably just not the the thoughts that Simon Stone had intended. Most of all it made me think – why is this play called Phaedra? It is so loosely based on the myth, and has so little to do with the greats that came before, that I felt, yet again, that it was simply a ploy to get me go to see a classic, when a classic this is unlikely to become.
https://www.westendbestfriend.co.uk/news/review-phaedra-national-theatre