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IN CONVERSATION WITH: Bella Merlin

Reading Time: 4 minutes

Tilly No-Body: Catastrophes of Love makes its London debut after winning an Edinburgh Festival Fringe Theatre Award, being chosen as ‘Pick of the Fringe’, and receiving rave reviews at last year’s Edinburgh Fringe. This one-woman play is written by and stars Bella Merlin and is directed by Miles Anderson. Tilly No-Body: Catastrophes of Love play at the Arcola Theatre 7th – 25th July. Tickets are available here. We sat down with Bella to discuss her upcoming performance.


What was it about Tilly Wedekind’s story that made you feel compelled to bring her back into the spotlight?

    I’ve always been drawn to love stories. And particularly true stories about women who – despite the odds – carve a potent path in life. So when I came across Tilly Wedekind’s autobiography, I was hooked. Tilly Wedekind (born Newes) was a vibrant young actress when she met Frank Wedekind (author of the original Spring Awakening, which 100 years later was adapted into a hit musical). He was already famous and quite a bit older than Tilly when they first acted together: she was cast as Lulu in his second “Lulu” play, Pandora’s Box, and he played the serial killer, Jack the Ripper… (An auspicious beginning!) So, how do we find ourselves in complex, contorting relationships – when we know they’re bad for us and yet we love the person involved? 

    How did your own experiences shape the way you approached Tilly’s journey of love, loss and self-discovery?

      I was cast in an adaptation of “Lulu” during my twenties after I’d fallen in love with a playwright (that’s the “love” experience). Twenty years later I decided to write Tilly No-Body, and I didn’t think about why I was writing it beyond my own fascination with Tilly. While playing Lulu in my twenties, however, I’d lost a part of my naivety, and I think (subconsciously) I was now trying to find it again (that’s the “loss” experience). As for the self-discovery, that really began in 2024 – fourteen years after I’d first created Tilly No-Body – when we presented the piece at the United Nations Commission on the Status of Women. There’s often a deep process of forgetting that surrounds a particularly traumatic time in one’s life. It was through the UN event that I began to remember, and that was the real discovery of what Tilly’s journey entailed and why it seemed pressing to share it with others.

      Tilly No-Body explores what happens when one voice overshadows another — why does that theme still feel so relevant today?

        While I was preparing to take Tilly No-Body to the 2025 Edinburgh Festival Fringe, I created a 12-part series of microdocumentaries called The Actor-Character Bond. I was curious about the crossovers between Tilly’s story and mine, as well as acting tools for building a character. During that research, I discovered a startling number of books about the increasing silencing of women’s voices across the globe. Whether it’s the rise of misogyny or the new age of sexism. Or the banning of education for women. There’s a recurring line in Tilly No-Body: “Say the right thing, Tilly, say the right thing!” as Tilly figures out what might or might not get her into trouble with her husband. Many women and non-binary people don’t have the chance to say anything, let alone the right thing.

        As both writer and performer, what has Tilly taught you about reclaiming identity through storytelling?

          When we began rehearsals, I said to my director – the brilliant actor, Miles Anderson – “The writer will leave the room as soon as you need her to!” Meaning that once we’d both firmed up the script – and I wanted Miles’s insights to be a vital part of that – I would simply be the actor. And the two identities were very clear to me. Herein lies a bit of perversity: as an actor, I love being told what to say! As a writer, I love the freedom to wrestle with rhythm, juxtaposition, alliteration, irreverence. I’m really collaborating with Tilly and Frank beyond the grave: translating and mashing about bits from their letters, journals, Frank’s plays, Tilly’s autobiography, plus some invention. And we’re telling the story through theatrical vocabulary – songs, puppetry, circus, flashbacks. By reclaiming her identity, Tilly is giving me a means to reclaim my identity. And we seek to offer audiences a similar experience.

          The show deals with difficult themes but ultimately celebrates resilience — what do you hope audiences take away from Tilly’s transformation?

            For me, theatre is the last bastion of heartbeat-to-heartbeat connection: it’s all about the audience. We’ve played Tilly No-Body in four different countries – and each time, whatever the demographic or language, I’ve been touched by how often people of all ages say that the story resonated with them. Maybe Tilly’s story untangled something, cast a new perspective, transformed a feeling. Miles’s direction is very playful – he believes that if you’re going to explore the murkiness of human behaviour, you have to do it with a lightness of touch. Tilly was such a playful, resilient force – right into her 80s when she decided she wanted to act again. Sadly she died before she could; so we’re transforming her into a new existence on stage through Tilly No-Body. And ideally, audiences feel uplifted by Tilly’s creative potential and intrigued by their own possibilities.

            Tilly refused to let others define her story; what does becoming a “somebody” mean to you?

              Tilly No-Body is all about love. For me, becoming a “somebody” is about connecting and loving in a truly generative way. I teach acting at the University of California, Riverside, and I start each term by saying to my students, “You are the curriculum. Every one of you has a story to tell and something to say.” And it’s enthralling to see how they support each other in defining themselves. Tilly adopted the name “Niemand” (close to “Niemann” or “nobody”) when she lost her virginity out of wedlock, bringing shame on the family name of “Newes” according to her brother. (Why she told him, I have no idea!) The idea that sexual, creative expression should be connected to losing identity is curious to me. And yet I felt I lost my true identity at that time in my life while I was playing Lulu. But maybe becoming a “somebody” is really about trusting that life experiences can give us the wisdom to make better choices. Tilly and I made some pretty poor choices at various times in our lives, but those choices don’t define us: they enlighten us. And live theatre is a powerful way to share those transformative moments. I sincerely hope that audiences (young-ish and older) will come and “become”! Thank you so much for this opportunity to share some perspectives.

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