Le Figaro
by Armelle Héliot, 17 November 2007

Born in Ireland, brought up in England and steeped in European culture, Declan Donnellan remains intellectually free of any national boundaries. He is one of the most original directors in the theatre today. The breadth of his knowledge underpins the boldness of his approach. We have seen proof of it in his production of Le Cid, with French actors, and Boris Godounov with Russians. Andromaque, which, incidentally, he first discovered at the age of sixteen and subsequently translated and staged in Great Britain, demonstrates an audacity which is quite remarkable. He recognises the raw truth that lies beyond the sublime yoke of classical form with all its musicality.

This is a production without frills, set in a world resembling that of post war Britain, reminiscent of Anglo/American films of the period. It's not the first time that Racine has been given a contemporary treatment, but Donnellan takes it much further. The production is sharply delineated. Nick Ormerod's set and costumes are stark: school chairs, little black dresses for the women, uniforms and dark suits for the men.

The cast appear before the audience as if ready for bloody battle, and immediately we are struck by the presence of a child, who will remains on stage throughout, Astyanax (Sylvain Levitte). He is at the centre of Declan Donnellan's production. The story here is about parents and children. The characters who are about to tear themselves apart before our eyes are, each and every one, the ill fated offspring of heroes: Achilles, Clytemnestra, Hector, Helen … Is it possible to live free of such shackles, or to love, suffer or die? Donnellan goes way beyond the familiar thread, the old story, well known to every school child, of A, who loves B, who loves C, who loves D. He strips the characters bare, showing them as ordinary mortals, struggling with uncontrollable passions and desires; awkward, inhibited men and tiresome, meanminded women; irascible men and quick tempered women, all deeply neurotic and all utterly shameless.

We could almost be in a sitcom, with the trappings of a 40s film. The director deliberately ignores the unity of place, showing us events which are only spoken of, even going so far as to show a marriage on stage. He breaks utterly with tragic form and yet the production resonates with the voice of Racine. And we hear Racine's lines: eschewing traditional strict formality, the words are spoken with absolute clarity.

Donellan's interpretation and the fearsome rigour of his approach convince...and we can unreservedly applaud Xavier Boiffier (Oreste), Camille Cayol (Andromaque), Christophe Grégoire (Pyrrhus), Camille Japy (Hermione) and the rest of the cast.