Review Roundup: The National Theatre's ELECTRA/PERSONA, Starring Cate Blanchett

Directed and adapted by Benedict Andrews, this new play is based on both Sophocles' story of Electra from Greek mythology and Ingmar Bergman's celebrated 1966 film Persona – exemplifying The National Theatre's commitment to re-examining classic stories in new forms. Creating a charged dialogue that spans over 2000 years between the ancient and the modern, this ambitious new production will interrogate the inner life of an actress and query how grief can make us strangers to ourselves. What did the critics think?

Electra/Persona plays at The National Theatre until 10 October

Photo credits: Monika Rittershaus
 

Clementine Scott, BroadwayWorld: Both Andrews’s Electra and his Persona could more than stand on their own as imaginative takes on seminal texts that reward those with knowledge of the source material. But the production’s real strength is in the elegant parallels it draws, to form a new whole that enriches and enhances the work of both Sophocles and Bergman.

Sarah Crompton, WhatsOnStage: Hoss and Blanchett, so convincing in their previous performance opposite one another as a couple in the film Tár, relish every moment. As Electra, Hoss’s purposeful walk, her downturned mouth, and rising fury perfectly suggests a woman in the grip of mania, exuding “the holy stench of grief.” Her ability as Elisabet to reflect thought and feeling while staying utterly still is riveting; her strength and vulnerabilities are both delicately charted. As Clytemnestra, Blanchett is imperious and frightening, as Alma, needy, ingratiating and slightly terrifying. Ella Lily Hyland and Patrick Robinson make up the onstage quartet, in unrewarding but necessary roles.

Arifa Akbar, The Guardian: It’s a clever twist (too clever?) that seems earnest in its intentions to eke out mother-daughter friction from each drama, as well as exploring ideas on performance, how actors assume roles and who they become when they are off-stage – rather than a production conceived as theatrical sport. Yet, this intense, interval-free show is quite literally a game of two halves, Andrews’ overhaul of the ancient much more successful than his strangely sterile play on Bergman’s classic.

Clive Davis, The Times: Blanchett remains such an icily charismatic presence that you’re reluctant to look away even when the pace sags, as it does in the final hour. Her co-star Nina Hoss — who played Blanchett’s wife in the classical music film psychodrama Tár — makes an indelible impression too. Still, as the overlong Bergman segment wafts towards its conclusion, it’s the crispness of the images of the two women projected on to a compact screen that holds your attention rather than the script itself.

Andrzej Lukowski, TimeOut: But from the POV of an audience member who will only ever see it one way around, let’s call it what it is: a flex over how good Blanchett and Hoss are. And they’re really, really good: even if Benedict Andrews’ production maybe doesn’t entirely ‘work’, the sense that it is just bloody amazing having two such incredible actors doing an enormous amount of acting – and that we’re actually only even seeing half of it – pretty much carries the night.

Anya Ryan, London Theatre: Next to each other, the plays say very little. So, it is best to enjoy the aesthetics of Magda Willi’s pine, pyramid-sloped set and the pleasure of watching two actors right at the top of their game. On camera, their screen training shines: feeling comes through in even an eye twitch from Hoss as Elisabet, while tears silently roll down her cheeks. As Alma, Blanchett lets go of all professionalism and starts to spill out her secrets. Together, they mimic each other’s movements, rubbing their faces in unison and sitting in exactly the same formation. When their faces morph into one another on screen, you feel their duality starkly.

Claire Allfree, The Telegraph: Echoes between both works reverberate – Alma and Elisabet cradle each other, as do Clytemnestra and Electra; the odd line is repeated. Both Electra and Elisabet have withdrawn from themselves because the horror of the world is too much – the unstoppable cycle of violence for Electra, the senselessness of war for Elisabet (Andrews replaces Vietnam with the Middle East). One is estranged from her mother, the other from her daughter. Both struggle to find a way of being that feels both reasonable and true.

Average Rating: 68.6%