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Hedda is a Curious but Rough Translation of a Classic

It’s interesting. Despite being one of the most famous works in theatre and a widely regarded pinnacle for any great female actor, Henrik Ibsen’s Hedda Gabler hasn’t often been adapted on film. Before Nia DaCosta took a crack at it, there existed only one major cinematic translation of the play, and that was a Glenda Jackson vehicle from fifty years ago notable mostly for netting her a final Best Actress Oscar nomination. And the work is not like a Waiting for Godot, where it would be difficult to translate its effects to film -it is a largely conventional narrative. My only guess is that, like the works of Chekhov or Dostoesvsky, its European heritage has made it unpopular for the American film industry.
And this makes it even more of a gamble that DaCosta’s Hedda isn’t just telling this story on film but in a repurposed context, specifically in gender-swapping one of the central characters to present it from a queer angle. However, apart from that gender flip itself there isn’t any new comment or insight that DaCosta explores off of it. She doesn’t even particularly seem much interested, except to convert a straight messy relationship and its consequences into a queer one of the same calibre.
To be clear, she does alter the script in several significant ways, including to the overhanging structure (the story is set entirely at a party on a single night) and especially the ending. But largely they function to buff up the drama and energy, give a bit more of an air of eroticism to the relationships and perhaps invest the story with a slightly more feminist streak -after all the professor boasting a critical new academic manuscript is a woman now and the text is thus a treatise on sexuality.
This figure is Eileen Lovborg, played by Nina Hoss, who once carried out a passionate love affair with the title character that ended painfully -though those lusts and emotions have not fully died. Tessa Thompson is this iteration of Hedda -intelligent, cunning, and fully empowered as she and her emasculated husband George Tesman (Tom Bateman) host a lavish party on their estate that every socialite in the region attends in a manner akin to a Jane Austen narrative. Hedda encounters there Thea Clifton (Imogen Poots), formerly a victim of Hedda’s schoolgirl bullying and the current lover and muse of Eileen, who herself shows up not long after and modestly entrances Hedda again. Implicitly envious of their relationship, Hedda turns to petty machinations, going about the night committing various small acts of social sabotage on both Thea and Eileen, not so beholden to keeping up her own arbitrary reputation.
The story revolves completely around Hedda and as such is designed as a showcase vehicle for Thompson, but the most thrilling and compelling performance  of the film easily belongs to Hoss. When she enters the scene, all eyes instinctively turn to her in both the fictitious party and in the theatre -she has an immediate gravitas. Her power in a scene is only emboldened by the taboo attitude of the party-goers towards both her feminist academic authority and her well-known lesbianism, both of which she wears with an unmoved pride. In her exchanges with Hedda there is a fiery sensuality underlining her smirks and general attentiveness -they are sparring partners not doing much to conceal their concoctions of resentment with passionate lust. Hedda has the institutional power through a lot of this, but Hoss convinces you that Eileen does, her daunting intensity unwavering -even in a scene where she might be humiliated via a wet undershirt that unknowingly exposes her breasts. It does not matter, she won’t yield her dignity. And yet there is great sensitivity to her performance too, Hedda’s wounds are palpable, and her academic work and recognition holds real value that Hedda either underestimates or callously disrespects.
Hedda, as is the case in the play, reflects quite poorly off of her peers, even with her charismatic wit. Thompson adopts an English accent for the role in line with the general consistency DaCosta establishes, and it informs her very regal performance choices. There are moments, particularly some choice scenes with Eileen and in her own solitude -wherein some of the veneer is made to slip- where Thompson is earnestly quite remarkable in relating the nuances of this anti-heroine. These however are rare moments, this reworking giving Thompson very little opportunity to relate the gravity of this iconic character -sometimes considered the feminine equivalent to Hamlet. There is some complexity to her motivations to be sure, but they are neither explored nor expressed sufficiently -and she winds up being largely an amoral agent of chaos, generating only the mildest of sympathies towards her circumstances. And even her artificiality comes across in a not particularly captivating way, her dialogue often sounding like DaCosta’s attempt to mimic the style of Tony McNamara.
In this way, Hedda is a mirror for the movie itself, which in spite of some strong themes and conceits, is executed with a tepidly sensationalist streak to its drama. Exacerbated by the choice to set the plot over a single night and in public view, the operatic quality of the stakes is made into much more of a show, Hedda’s actions in particular ringing as a kind of petty high school vindictiveness in this context of public humiliation. And it is just not very interesting. The weight of these characters and the choices made against them feel diminished, even the cruelest one on the part of Hedda to Eileen, seemingly unable to comprehend its consequences.
Dreariness pervades the movie, which is often quite dim in its atmosphere and colours -even the brief day sequence is overcast. DaCosta’s amber lighting can be quite vivid and sensual at times, especially in the ways its casts shadows, but it is a visual language that can be murky or sickly looking as well, especially with so little contrast in the figures and the mise en scene, which can resemble a filter. A lighting choice that might be perfect for the close-up but not the wide shot. Otherwise DaCosta’s direction is fairly good in terms of matching the rhythm of the performances and dialogue, developing the space in a labyrinthine way -she brings some of that creeping mood she had in Candyman, as though setting up a ghost story in waiting. But it doesn’t quite feel fitting here, especially as a counterweight to the sexual and ego components, and in lieu of an ending that has some poetry to it but feels a touch de-fanged next to the original work.
Something that I am surprised wasn’t discussed more though it is brought up on a couple occasions, is the racial identity of this new Hedda -which like Eileen’s sexuality isn’t completely normalized within this framework. It is considered, but nowhere examined beyond its implicit added layer to Hedda’s craving of respectability. A shame considering its potential as a re-framing device. But the feminine and queer angle really seem to have been the principal priorities for DaCosta’s revamped Hedda, though I wish I could say they made a difference. Allowing Hoss her stellar performance seems to have been their worthwhile function. Otherwise Hedda is a curious movie, but for the rare cinematic translation of this seminal work of theatre, it is also underwhelming -the changes and choices it makes watering down themes or underselling aspects of the narrative. It doesn’t fundamentally feel like all that important a story, Hedda does not translate as this landmark figure of dramatic prestige. Her power for now at least still resides exclusively on stage.

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