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Julie
National Theatre
London
ALTHOUGH Polly Stenham’s adaptation of Strindberg’s Miss Julie captures the vapid narcissism of London’s super-rich, its characters never develop beyond sketches of the types to be encountered in the palatial West End homes of the 1 per cent.
In fact, Tom Scott’s set design and Guy Hoare’s lighting are the true stars here. The latter’s use of stark white bulbs to illuminate every sterile corner of the blank and brutalist kitchen interior and the lining of the stage with a bright white square conjure the visual dissonance of a souring all-nighter with painful accuracy.
Stenham’s script shines when she deploys her talent for listening, recording and playing back the most excruciating details of conversation. “Let’s get pagan!” implores Julie (Vanessa Kirby) of Jean and Kristina, ignoring the reality that the pair are her servants and cannot abandon post to entertain her desperate debaucheries.
Eric Kofi Abrefa as Jean makes the most of a part whose major role is to challenge the expectations of his wealthy, white employer. Yet the lack of chemistry between Jean and Julie — underpinning the class antagonisms in Strindberg’s play — is the nail in the coffin for a production high on artifice and low in emotion.
Thalissa Teixera, as the ambiguous “help” and Jean’s fiancee Kristina, keeps both production and household going and is rewarded with a stunning and visceral monologue at the denouement, reminding us that friendship is only a pretence when economic power is imbalanced.
The squeamish should be warned to look away when Julie brings her pet parrot into the kitchen — a set piece follows that drew shrieks from the audience.
Ultimately, Carrie Cracknell’s production feels as shallow and unconvincing a portrait of real life as one’s reflection in the skylight of a Chelsea mansion. Perhaps the broader social critique lies in the fact that such a 21st-century incarnation of realism could be so lacking in depth and charisma.
Runs until September 8, box office: nationaltheatre.org.uk.