Review: THE DUCHESS (OF MALFI), Trafalgar Theatre

Jacobean revenge tragedy: gasps of shock ought to echo around the theatre. Not muffled giggles.

Zinnie Harris’s 2019 incarnation of The Duchess of Malfi, matter-of-factly titled The Duchess (of Malfi), desperately yearns to conjure the sexy metatheatrical cunning of Van Hove, Mitchell, Ostermeier. It stumbles toe-curlingly at every hurdle.

We are in a pulp fictional version of the 1960s, slinking around a grey slabbed Le Corbusier chic set. I can understand the Tarantino-esque tilt, after all he and Webster share a proclivity for blood-soaked violence. Once Upon a time in Malfi? Characters are introduced with title cards and a jangly guitar riff. Ferdinand slinks around in a turtleneck and we meet the Duchess moaning a dirge into an onstage microphone as if it’s the final martini-soaked hurrah of a boozy hen night.  

Why Harris, who also directs, then decides to cram in every genre possible from here on is a mystery. Ferdinand and the Cardinal are dithering man-children gleefully drunk on power straddling soap opera melodrama equipped with some atrociously jarring lines: “You need to calm yourself” implores Ferdinand to his brother. The cardinal’s riposte: “You need to excite yourself.” Never a good omen if you don’t know whether to laugh or tear your ears off.

What is certainly funny is Joel Fry’s particularly nebbish Antonio, who flexes his comedic muscles as a mouse like accountant. It’s as if he has got lost on his way to a more insightful production. No wonder his affair with the Duchess feels hopelessly weightless. I take my hat off to the actors unsure of whether to ham up the Grand Guignol ridiculousness or mine it for depth. There’s only so much dramatic mileage when the script is relentless goofy and does a 180 every time it seems to settle on a tone. Only Jude Owusu’s Bosola offers a glimmer of hope: soul-rending guilt pours from his gorgeously measured soliloquies but he too feels out of place.

The applaudable socio-political overtone saluting female endurance of male torment is lost in the fray. The Duchess is implied to return as a ghost exacting revenge on her murderous brothers, on paper a sly twist on Webster’s original. But the ground gives way again to another genre shift, eventually reaching the ground zero whirlwind of chaos that is the finale.

As for Jodie Whittaker? It’s been 12 years since she last trod the boards. Her Duchess exudes icy confidence and loveable arrogance, but without traction to help her find her dramatic footing, this is not quite the eagerly awaited return to the stage that many had anticipated.

The Duchess plays until 20 December

Photo credits: Marc Brenner