I finally got to see Hedda Gabler with Fiona Shaw from 1991. Thank you to the New York Public Library.
Her Hedda felt uncomfortable, nervous, constantly on the edge of a psychiatric breakdown. At times haughty. Multifaceted. The Act 1 prequel scene is so intense you almost want to retch. What Shaw does with the props is incredibly effective. You end up sympathizing with her. The production really threw me a curveball. Surprisingly, she’s not one of the postmodern Jackson-Heddas. She's more Hamlet-like.
... But wtf happened in the scene where she burns the manuscript? I don't know if I loved it or hated it. Somehow it made sense. And wtf was Tesman doing when he found out she’d burned it? That moment didn’t work for me. It was a logical failure.
Gloomy aesthetic. Irish accents. Faithful set design. Strong ensemble. The final scene was changed, the result was weird.














