Review: NINETEEN GARDENS, Hampstead Theatre

Hampstead Theatre has always been a hub of original creativity. Even in these artistic direction-less times, it’s still managing to nurture new voices, like Magdalena Miecznicka. Now based in London, she has produced a number of novels and plays in her native Poland and there probably isn’t a better location for her London debut than Swiss Cottage. Directed by the venue’s Associate Director, Alice Hamilton, Nineteen Gardens is a short hour of bitter satire about privilege, unfairness, and opportunity.

The end of their illicit affair ruined Aga’s life. She lost her husband as well as her reputation, but John came out of it unscathed. While she budgets her bus money and takes crazy shifts as a hotel cleaner, he goes home to his wife and six-bedroom house after a multitude of dinner parties in Primrose Hill. Miecznicka is a clever writer. The class divide between her characters is addressed by casual lifestyle comments and John’s intrigue for Aga’s stories that revolve around a reality that’s totally alien to him. She’s a poverty chic novelty to him.

It’s a playfully political and cynical play, full of humour and resolute observations that lie just below the surface of an engaging plot. In truth, it’s surprisingly gripping for an idea that’s, at its core, quite a basic tale of vengeful blackmail that leads to nothing. It’s all due to the entrancing battle of accusations that unfolds on Miecznicka’s page. Hamilton suspends the action in time and space, letting it develop against a totally white set designed by Sarah Beaton. Without much of a visual context, everything might as well be happening in Aga’s head. 

A snappy, beckoning pace is built on a magnetic dynamic between Olivia Le Anderson and David Sturzaker. He is an irritatingly unlikeable and entitled posh man who’s as oblivious as he is emotionally immature and egotistical, while she is a smart foreign working class woman who got wrapped up in the fantasy of a better life. Their two backgrounds engage in a dangerous waltz that ultimately reiterates the fact that the ruling class consistently comes out on top. It’s deliciously frustrating to watch.

She builds her case with biting sarcasm and warranted cruelty while he remains unrepentant and sleazy. An enticing rhythm ties the production together, with smooth chronological movements carried out with a change in lights (Jamie Platt) and a flash of classical music (Max Pappenheim). John’s perfect public school cadence and Aga’s pointed Eastern European accent (though Le Anderson is Scandinavian) clash within a striking chemistry that's solidified by Hamilton's light-handed, effective direction.

The actors orbit around one another, advancing and retreating with each blow they deploy. Once the sad realisation that Aga isn’t going to win hits, John becomes an overblown version of himself and each vexatious trait of his turns into a mean taunt. Nineteen Gardens is one of those layered pieces. Some will see a callous attempt at arbitrary retaliation, others will find an extremely detailed representation of English society. It's an excellent opportunity for discussion.

Nineteen Gardens runs at Hampstead Theatre until 9 December.

Photo Credit: The Other Richard

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