A faithful representation of Strindberg’s Miss Julie that allows the play’s messages to shine
A count’s daughter seduces her father’s footman resulting in the ruin of three lives: her own, the footman’s and his wife’s. Written in 1888, Strindberg’s play Miss Julie explores the power dynamics between classes and genders. While the play was once banned in the UK, the real challenge in staging it today lies not in its provocative content – class on the one hand, but also explicit sexual scenes, but in the difficulty of relating its rigid class distinctions to our contemporary, more fluid social structure. For instance, Polly Stenham’s production at the National Theatre was a disastrous modern adaptation, trying to replace “class” with “money”, which ultimately made no sense.
Under such circumstances, East London Theatre Company’s Miss Julie, directed by Jon Fentiman, featuring Maria Naterstad (Miss Julie), Chris Agha (Jean) and Lia Goresh (Kristin), offers a refreshing and proper representation of Strindberg’s original vision. In contrast to those fatally “experimental” productions that seek to reinterpret the play with modern twists, this production prioritises Strindberg’s naturalism, focusing on a landed gentry’s 19th-century underground kitchen, with an immersive seating where the audience surrounds the stage. Its use of soundscape provides a Renaissance twist, featuring merry music for the midsummer night.
With no heavy directorial hand, the spotlight falls on the actors’ performing skills including voices, movements and their chemistry on stage. Naterstad delivers a “stereotypical” Miss Julie, innocent yet cruel, right in line with Strindberg’s vision. Her Julie flirts with Jean, appearing oblivious to class differences, while remaining acutely aware of the power dynamics between sexes, longing for the opposite sex to take the lead. This dual (un)consciousness gives her character a compelling complexity. After the horrifying songbird scene signifying her fate – no road to freedom but mere fatal entrapment – she completely surrenders herself to her father’s servant. Natersad’s performance captures Julie’s naiveté, making this woman both tragically flawed and strangely endearing.
Performing alongside Naterstad, Agha perfectly portrays Jean, Strindberg’s Swedish Julien, as a cunning and manipulative man of low birth. He knows how to use women, either his wife or his lord’s daughter, to his advantage. Nonetheless, the exploration of Jean’s inner world, especially his resentment of the upper class, seems insufficient. Although Agha repeatedly emphasises the class differences between Julie and himself in critical scenes, such as Jean’s refusal to say “I love you” under Julie’s father’s roof, or the final doorbell scene, these emphases feel more “told” than “shown”- only through overtly explicit dialogues. This makes Jean, as a character, difficult to connect with and empathise with, especially in terms of his final devastation, though this could be more a limitation of Strindberg’s naturalistic writing than the production itself.
Goresh, as Kristin, captures our eyes at first sight, working hard in the kitchen. Though she has a smaller part, Goresh manoeuvres Kristin’s soberness and sanity expertly, a dignified signpost of high moral standard even as she suffers true heartbreak. In many ways, Kristin’s moral image might foreshadow Strindberg’s later return towards his belief in Christianity.
Fentiman’s faithful rendition of Miss Julie lets Strindberg’s exploration of class and gender shine through without modern overcomplication, with an emphasis on actors’ performances. To some extent, it is a huge relief to see a production navigate this complex play well.