'Electra/Persona' review — Cate Blanchett and Nina Hoss are at the top of their game

Read our review of Benedict Andrews's Electra/Persona, now in performances at the National Theatre to 10 October.

Summary

• Benedict Andrews's Electra/Persona plays at the National Theatre
• The production is after Sophocles and Ingmar Bergman
• Stars Cate Blanchett and Nina Hoss toss a coin to decide who plays which parts

The toss of a coin will decide the fate of Nina Hoss and Cate Blanchett for the run of Benedict Andrews’s Electra/Persona. Both dressed in navy blue, with their blonde hair tied back, on the night I see it Blanchett guesses heads – and wins – and so chooses to play Clytemnestra and Alma; Hoss takes the roles of Electra and Elisabet. It’s a device that draws attention to the theatrical artifice but has minimal bearing on the rest of the evening, which plays out in two halves in more ways than one. Electra is emotionally astute and nuanced. Persona feels detached, with the use of screen recording now an overused, stale technique in theatre.

Hoss rubs some chalk on her face – the first of many veils – lets out a guttural scream, and Sophocles’ Electra begins. Traditionally a tale of anger, in which Electra avenges her father Agamemnon’s murder at the hands of her mother Clytemnestra, Andrews hones in on the grief. Hoss is overwhelmed by sadness, then radically transforms into a vision of her brother Orestes.

There are modern additions, with talk of bullets, while the question of how you love your family when it is splintered raises its head. Wonderfully theatrical, blood is spat to represent the murder of Clytemnestra’s lover Aegisthus (Patrick Robinson), while the characters take turns to act out and relive elements of their family history. Unquestionably the strongest, more inventive section of the evening, its power dissipates once we move onto Persona after around 50 minutes.

There are some creative justifications for drawing comparisons between Electra and Ingmar Bergman’s 1966 film about an actor who stops speaking while performing Electra on stage. Both pieces share ideas of impersonation and reflection, for one. But here, the Bergman adaptation does not fly. After the hackneyed technique of getting the stage crew to mop up leftover blood and prepare for the second act, a screen drifts down that briefly shows the audience’s reflection, and a handheld camcorder is relied on to show all of Elisabet’s close-up emotion.

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.

But, for the most part, it remains a production that is frustratingly over-directed. It lacks a sense of instinctive freedom. We are constantly being told to see parallels between the two halves, the characters and their actions. But it’s rare we actually feel their weight.

Electra/Persona is at the National Theatre to 10 October. Book Electra/Persona tickets on LondonTheatre.co.uk

Photo credit: Electra/Persona (Photos by Monika Rittershaus)