Few plays are as infamous for their constant reinterpretations as August Strindberg’s 1888 Miss Julie: negotiating how the complicated network of class, gender roles, and morals shapes human relationships, and how in conflicts of power each of these aspects is laid bare, it continues to resonate with contemporary readers and audiences. This includes me, who encountered this striking story for the first time yesterday in Labyrinth Productions’ Julie, a contemporary version of the classic naturalist narrative.
Rosie Morgan-Males transports this tale of a wealthy count’s daughter, Miss Julie, who seduces her father’s engaged servant Jean and has to deal with the consequences, from Strindberg’s 19th century Midsummer’s Eve celebration in a rich count’s estate to a contemporary wild, late-night party at one of Julie’s father’s houses.
Ironically, such a contemporary reimagining may even be necessary in the case of a play like Miss Julie to preserve the scandalousness and power of Strindberg’s narrative: The idea of a short-lived romantic and sexual encounter between an upper-class lady and her father’s servant, while once reprehensible at its premiere in 1889, does not seem as shocking today. In turn, contemporary interpretations of the play have become just as widespread, if not more so, than adaptions that preserve its original setting. Labyrinth Productions’ take on this narrative is based on Polly Stenham’s Julie (After Strindberg). Published in 2018, its events, largely mirroring those of Miss Julie, take place at Julie’s ostentatious birthday party in modern-day London. Unfortunately, it does not fully succeed at translating this aspect of scandal and class disparity to the modern day – though not at the fault of Morgan-Males’ direction of the play or the brilliant actors, who bring out the complicated dynamics of the three characters brilliantly.
Catherine Claire is a flawless Julie, embodying the very image of a rich, impulsive spoiled daughter fresh out of a breakup brought on by her own erratic temperament. Her counterpart, Rufus Shutter, as Jean, manages to match her high energy, communicating the nuances of the character through body language — whether on stage with Claire or in his interactions with Hafeja Khanam as Kristina, Jean’s fiancee who is also employed by Julie’s father.
Though they are the only ones on stage for the majority of the play, Claire and Shutter manage to maintain the tension of Julie and Jean’s apparent infatuation, complicated struggle for power, and eventual crash; they convincingly portray the many layers of their attempts to win what, in Strindberg’s original too, is a fight for (social) survival. Claire’s commitment to and success at portraying Julie as in a constant state of intoxication is especially commendable: she is at times emotional, overwhelmed, or calculating; on the verge of breaking down, then standing up to Jean with a commendable naturalness, fully doing justice to the crucial complexity of the character. Khanam complements this duo nonchalantly: her curtness is more than fitting for Kristina as the perhaps most rational of the trio, who has to discover that her fiancé has slept with their employer’s daughter seemingly on a whim. Her final scene is so powerful in its imagery and delivered so well that it seemed almost a shame that it was kept so short – nonetheless, it is a powerful ending that ties the story together nicely.
Morgan-Males makes full use of the contemporary setting of Stenham’s reinterpretation by maximising the relative relatability it creates. Her Julie is highly immersive: Despite arriving early, I could hear loud music when I approached the building and was surrounded by actors performing as partygoers as soon as I got to The Pilch for the 9:30 pm show on the 25th February. The venue was decorated and illuminated like a lavish party. Free shots were offered, dancers on and off stage were already fully immersed in the play’s narrative and encouraged me to join them in dancing to the beats of a live DJ. The limited space of The Pilch contributes to this intimate atmosphere.
As you might have seen, this immersion in the world of Julie starts even earlier: On the ticketing website for Labyrinth Productions’ Julie, instead of a plot summary, one finds an invitation from Julie herself to her birthday party, complete with dress code and link to a Spotify playlist for her guests to contribute to (which, unfortunately, did not work on my devices but is a clever touch). One is not simply there to see Julie’s party take a turn for the worse, but to participate in it.
For me, this unique addition, as well as the stellar performance of both the lead performers and the dancers, more than compensated for minor weaknesses owed not to the production, but to Stenham’s Julie as a whole: as critics have pointed out, translating Miss Julie to a contemporary context is not an easy feat. Class differences do exist today, but there are none of the drastic consequences Julie and Jean were confronted with in the late 19th century, no matter how conservative one portrays Julie’s father to be. As a result, the tension is inherently lower; in Michael Billington’s words, “the crisis in Stenham’s version seems disproportionate to the events” and its resolution, while justified by Julie’s substance abuse, seems slightly overblown.
While Stenham’s adaptation struggles with translating Strindberg’s stakes to a modern context, Labyrinth Productions’ Julie chooses to instead bring out the universal, raw emotions and conflicts of the characters and their ache for control in a showcase of phenomenal acting, resulting in a truly compelling take on the classic.
[Julie, a production by Labyrinth Productions, is running at the Michael Pilch Studio, 25th Feb – 1st Mar]