Here Anja Reiss has taken Frank Wedekind’s controversial and often problematic play and given it a 21st century makeover. In doing so she and director Ben Kidd prove that, while the world might look very different and we may use new tools to communicate, the problems of being human remain very much unchanged.
This has been a week of teenage angst for me. In the cinema on Sunday I saw the 1955 Rebel Without a Cause, and in that the filmmakers went easy on their audience by sticking to one or two aspects of the trouble with adolescence. Wedekind liked to provoke, and he seems to have gone for the jugular with a full catalogue of issues – little wonder that in 1906 it caused something of a stir in the theatre. Sexual awakening and exploration, pornography, masturbation, lust, parental abuse, rape, pregnancy, botched abortion, suicide and homosexuality, with a side order of religion and the supernatural thrown in for good measure.
Find a way of making that into an appealing evening of theatre…
Reiss and Kidd have used two clever tricks in the adaptation that achieve this. Firstly, the play now has an element of metatheatre – the cast all appear as teenagers, and where there is an adult part they resort to dressing up to play a role within a role. Thus Wendla’s friend Thea becomes her mother, and they argue together over the reality of the portrayal, while Ernst plays Melchior’s father and Hans and Ilse are schoolteachers. This not only adds another layer of depth the performances but reinforces the idea that these young people rely on each other for their understanding of life, being unable to get answers from their repressed elders.
Secondly, the production makes use of technology to bring the piece right up to date. The cast use laptops and smartphones and we find them skyping, searching the internet and sending each other links to online porn.
This brings me to Colin Richmond’s set. Those who saw his design for last year’s Crime and Punishment at the Playhouse will recognise the stripped down stage and minimalist style, and there are some similar elements in the construction too, with industrial steel fabrication and translucent curtains. This enables rapid scene changes and provides surfaces on which projection effects show us what characters are seeing on their laptops and phones. As with 1984, there is use of both recorded and seemingly live video. The action opens on a school playground, complete with swings and floodlighting, and we are moved effortlessly to other locations including bedrooms, an art gallery, a school hall and more.
The narrative effectively follows the same route as Wedekind’s original but the scenery is different, with updated dialogue and settings that reflect the new ways we communicate. Moritz’s suicide is now a hanging and somehow this better reflects the ultimate spontaneity of the act, which is portrayed in a dreamlike fashion with the character effectively splitting in two on stage.
Aside from the writing, where this production really hits its target is in the casting. The actors are older than they appear on stage, ranging from early twenties to thirtyish, but all have been selected for their ability to be believable fourteen year olds. Aoife Duffin is an affecting Wendla, confused and naïve, and Oliver Johnstone is superb as the savvy but aloof Melchior, full of confidence at first but ultimately crushed by the fate of Wendla and Moritz. His character both drives much of the storyline and gives it many of its darkest moments, and his rape of Wendla and subsequent rage on his expulsion from school leave the theatre in stunned silence This is a performance with great commitment and sensitivity. On a par is Bradley Hall’s Moritz. He is altogether a gentler and more contemplative character, and Hall very subtly handles the descent into despair. His suicide is depicted with subtlety too – great use of a slammed shut laptop – and his reappearance in the coda gives us a very moving scene along with Johnstone’s Melchior.
Claudia Grant, Ruby Thomas and Daisy Whalley complete the female cast as both the three school friends and as three of the adults. Some great acting here as they pull back and forth between ages.
Ekow Quartey and Adam Welsh similarly transform into adults from time to time and it is they, as Hans and Ernst, who finally declare their love for each other. The writing at this point almost swallows up the significance of this moment. Having given little or no preamble in earlier scenes, it allows it to pass without further comment or event and maybe even Wedekind was reluctant to overplay this aspect of the story in 1891. I feel that Anja Reiss may have been able to include some earlier dialogue in her version that would have allowed us to read this as less impulsive. Despite its brevity, Quartey and Welsh achieve a poignant and refreshingly stereotype-free scene.
This production plays 90+ minutes without a break, and the absence of an interval helps to maintain the tension in the theatre.
Spring Awakening is co-produced by Headlong, West Yorkshire Playhouse and Nuffield Southampton. It runs at Liverpool Playhouse until 17th May and then continues its tour at Northern Stage Newcastle (20th – 24th May) and Derby Theatre (28th – 31st May).
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