The Yellow Wallpaper
literature, a short story from 1892 about a woman suffering from what
we’d now call post-natal depression. Only this being the late 19th
century, her husband and doctor (never a good sign when they’re one and
the same) is treating this “slight hysterical tendency” by locking his
wife away until she recovers.
Some hope.
Instead of fading into the wallpaper like a good girl, she becomes
obsessed with its colour and patterns – to the point of psychosis. It’s a
haunting, claustrophobic tale, rich with imagery and of obvious appeal
to a young actress. Lesley Free certainly picks out the strange poetry
in Olivia Mace’s adaptation of the original but is less attuned
to its emotional nuances. For a woman on the edge of mental cacophony,
this is too much of a one-note performance.
The
production design is beautiful – set, sound and lighting included – with
a moving opening section in which old Victorian photographs are
projected onto a bedsheet. “There is a story to tell … if only we can
find it,” read the slides. This is that story; the show’s just not quite
here yet.
– Nancy Groves
