Hedda at the Orange Tree Theatre – review

Tanika Gupta’s adaptation of Henrik Ibsen’s 1890 Norwegian classic play, Hedda Gabler, is set in post-World War II London. It’s 1948, so perhaps I shouldn’t have been, but I was taken aback by the use of a racial slur soon after the play had started.

Directed by Hettie Macdonald, this version centres on Hedda Gabler’s “dark” secret as an Anglo Indian. Having retired early as a hugely successful Hollywood actor, pulling out of a five-film Hollywood contract after just two productions, afraid her true identity was at risk of being revealed. Although the narrative is that she was sick of being a “puppet actress”, the reality is that her mother, Shona, played brilliantly by Rina Fatania, is pretending to be her maid, and the risk of falling from grace if society knows she’s a “mongrel” is simply not worth the risk.

Simon Kenny’s set is a minimalist living room, featuring a plush white rug that extends to the feet of those sitting on the first row of the round of the Orange Tree Theatre. There’s a white leather chaise longue and a white stool depicting a swanky Chelsea pad and accentuating the glorification of whiteness.

In true Ibsen style, Pearl Chanda’s Hedda is completely unpredictable, sharp-tongued, and utterly bored with the mundane minutiae of everyday life as a wife to rising film director, George Tesman (played by Joe Bannister). They have only just come back from their honeymoon, but she’s already over it. As a former starry actress, this newlywed has aspirations of maintaining the life she has become accustomed to, but her current existence pales in comparison. Most people would be content with a lavish Chelsea pad, but it’s not enough for Hedda. As her dreams evaporate, the reality of not having a butler or piano does not sit well with her. Her response? To dramatically fling her head to the floor, draped over the stool; it’s a fantastic scene.

The play juxtaposes a post-colonial era alongside racism and sexism, and is inspired by the real-life actor, Merle Oberon, a former leading lady, who concealed her Asian heritage in order to elevate her acting career. This is all amidst the Hays Code (1930s to 1960s) restrictions, which prohibited profanity, nudity or the ridiculing of marriage, and certainly no onscreen depictions of love and romance between races, for example.

Hedda delivers half-truths completely unfiltered without care for her loved ones’ feelings, making for a funny albeit uncomfortable watch at times. Lies tumble out of her mouth and she is scathing and critical of everything and everyone, wrangling with constraints of being a woman in a male-dominated world.

Hedda rekindles her “friendship” with former rival, Alice, portrayed wonderfully by Bebe Cave, misconstruing them as best friends, when actually she used to pull her hair before she went on stage to discombobulate her – one of many examples of Hedda as a master manipulator.

All the male characters, bigwigs of the film industry, are well-turned-out in sharp suits and pocket squares. Hedda wears wide-legged black trousers, a dark red blouse – she means business at all times and is not to be played with.

Hedda’s cultural past threatens to ruin her present as ex-lover, Leonard (portrayed by Jake Mann), rears his ugly head with an unauthorised biopic and the lure of a return to her beloved acting life (“I can’t bear that I’ll never act again”). Life is spiralling, and as much as Hedda tries to control and deceive, it all comes crashing down with the tragedy unfolding before us at the play’s well-known, climactic end.

Gupta’s fast-paced exploration of the film industry’s relationship with women and race is a refreshing and striking reimagining of a play that, despite its many, many iterations, can still wow and fascinate its audience. A must-see revival of a classic.