Words like “bold,” “daring,” and “wild” will be used—in fact, they already have been—to describe Nia DaCosta’s “Hedda,” one of the most original and exciting adaptations of a classic play in recent times. The same words apply to the film’s central character, the inscrutable and seemingly unscrupulous Hedda Gabler (a magnetic Tessa Thompson), here firmly transplanted from the late 19th-century context of Henrik Ibsen’s iconic play to the 1950s, without losing an ounce of her essence.
The time period isn’t the only thing DaCosta, who also wrote the screenplay, has changed, as she now envisions Hedda as a Black woman (a supporting character marvels at her “dark” skin) whose romantic relationships involve both men and women. The former lover who shows up at her sprawling (read: unaffordable) country estate for a raucous (read: deadly) party is, in DaCosta’s version, now a woman: Eileen Lovborg, no longer Eilert Lovborg. Again, bold, daring, and wild changes, to be sure, but also imaginative and illuminating. That is to say: it all works, and very well.
Director: Nia DaCosta
Writers: Henrik Ibsen, Nia DaCosta
Stars: Tessa Thompson, Nina HossImogen Poots
The film opens the morning after Hedda’s party, thrown to celebrate Hedda and her husband George Tesman’s (Tom Bateman) entry into high society. The real reason for the party is something far less mundane: in an attempt to please Hedda, the financially struggling professor George has bought the couple a lavish and ostentatious country estate that they absolutely cannot afford (production designer Cara Brower’s work is stunning and makes it easy to understand why anyone would go crazy to live there).
They have enlisted the help of Hedda’s old family friend, Judge Roland Brack (Nicholas Pinnock), who seizes every opportunity to try and seduce a disgruntled Hedda, clearly believing he is owed something. But George is hopeful that the Tesmans will soon owe nothing to anyone, as they've invited the influential Professor Greenwood (Finbar Lynch) to the party, and they hope to impress him so much that he'll give George a comfortable new job (and, of course, money). And this party is going to be truly grand, tailored to Hedda's particular tastes as much as possible—fewer flowers, more champagne—and with a guest list that gets increasingly bizarre as the night goes on. For Hedda, a woman defined by the many limitations that bind her (familial, professional, social, racial, sexual, the list is endless), a party is something she can truly control and make her own.
More specifically: the party guests are something she can truly control and make her own. While the perpetually cowed George thinks this is all for him, Hedda has other ideas. Also on her way to the mansion: Eileen Lovborg, Hedda's former lover, George's current rival for that new job, and seemingly a completely changed person. When Hedda and Eileen were young and wild, Eileen's alcoholism and debauchery were a problem, but she's put all that wickedness behind her, mostly thanks to the love of Thea Clifton (a delicate Imogen Poots), who has also just arrived at the mansion for the worst party ever.
Thea, of all people, understands Hedda best: as the women reunite before Eileen's promised arrival, she reflects that Hedda was "terrifying" when they first met at school. That hasn't diminished, but Hedda's reign of terror will find new ways to manifest itself (and to reveal her) throughout a devastating party. Upstairs, in one of the mansion's many opulent rooms, Hedda displays her most prized possession: a collection of weapons inherited from her late father, General Gabler, which she plays with, manipulates, and lends out, all according to her whims.
At the bottom of the gleaming gun case, there's a secret compartment, just big enough to hide... well, you'll see. Since Ibsen first introduced Hedda in 1891, she has been one of the great anti-heroines of the theater. What she calls her "whim" is something far deeper (or wilder, bolder, however you prefer to put it): being so repressed and constrained, it's only a matter of time before someone as unique as Hedda explodes.
That she chooses to do so at a party? Well, that's quite amusing. Until it ceases to be amusing altogether. Unable to control virtually any aspect of her life, despite making only safe choices (safe choices, how ironic!), Hedda can't take it anymore. Conventionality doesn't offer her the protection she expected, and so the pain is doubled: she didn't do what she wanted, and moreover, she has nothing to show for it.
When Eileen finally bursts into the party (the magnificent Nina Hoss is so electrifying in her entrance that it’s almost the only moment we’re distracted from Thompson, who is mesmerizing in every frame), everything suddenly changes. Hedda, so determined to be mistress of her own emotions, crumbles. This is the great love of her life, and she arrives reborn, in love with someone else, with her next great book literally under her arm, and free from the influence of alcohol and bad decisions. Hedda, of course, takes all of this as a challenge.
Furious and bent on molding everything to her will, Hedda prowls the party, prodding here, pushing there, and gleefully observing the results of her machinations. Thea falls apart. Eileen collapses headfirst into a cocktail. Hedda’s rage is so potent that it affects others seemingly beyond her reach, and as the party wears on into the night, the only question isn’t what will happen next, but how awful it will be.
And yet. Hedda’s magnetism is undeniable, and that people fall under her spell is understandable. DaCosta and a talented team of professionals reinforce that idea at every turn: Sean Bobbitt’s cinematography is lush and saturated, Hildur Guðnadóttir’s unpredictable score infuses the party atmosphere with a touch of unease, and Lindsay Pugh’s costumes are sumptuous. There’s always something to look at, touch, or listen to in the mansion, enough to almost distract from the evils Hedda is perpetrating, both against herself and others.
At one point, a guest who doesn’t know Hedda tells her that he’s heard about her past, that before she was tamed, she was “like fire.” That flame still burns in “Hedda” (and in Hedda), but that brilliance masks her true nature: destruction. But, oh, how fun it is to stand back and let her shine, at least for one night!
Comments
Post a Comment