After Miss Julie’s review – Sex takes second place after class war | platform

Strindberg claimed to have written “Miss Julie” during a month of “forced celibacy” in 1888. The resulting tragedy had a pent-up, snarling energy. Patrick Marber’s 1995 version, originally written for television, unfolds in a similar 75 minutes — but focuses less on sex than on British class warfare.

We are at the country house of one of our Labor peers, on the night of the party’s landslide election victory in 1945. As the staff celebrates offstage – Chattanooga choo choo and in the mood – John the driver (Tom Farry) pours a glass of the finest Burgundy prepared by his master. Like Churchill, he says, it is “strong, full-bodied – and complete”.

The peer’s daughter swayed in her black, full-skirted dress, coming down the stairs like a kitten, demanding attention in a gentle, silvery voice. Julie, played by Liz Francis, teases, drinks (“Do you think I’m a terrifying woman?”), and flirts. “Did I shock you?” She purrs. “Not as much as you want,” John replies.

John is engaged to the cook Christine (the excellent Charlene Boyd, dog-tired but hard-working) – but he and Julie fall into a combustible night and a dreary morning afterward. Marber’s text shares a revengeful luster with his earlier plays, The Merchant’s Choice and Closer. However, writing is at its most powerful when it’s at its worst. “You’d be ashamed of a little tart in Piccadilly,” quips John, while Julie mocks the ale and the suit’s “lay-off disaster.”

Dadiow Lin’s intimate, assured production has a sly clarity. Exquisitely designed by Eleanor Wintour, its circular display reveals John’s red finger marks on Julie’s shoulder. Marber describes the psychological buildup of Julie’s upbringing (“You don’t know what it’s like to be Daddy’s special girl”) but the show doesn’t ooze Strindberg’s turbulent, toxic desire. The heroine may be “off the rock,” but the tragedy does not arrive with inescapable force.

Class is what drives the disaster here – elections may herald a new dawn, but the characters cannot shake long-entrenched habits of respectability or leadership. The country may seem on the cusp of change, but Vari’s eyes narrow at the insult, and he jumps in with his shoe polish and coffee grinder when his master calls.