The stellar cast of Labyrinth Productions’ A View from the Bridge delivered a layered, spellbindingly emotional interpretation of a classic. Director Rosie Morgan-Males told Cherwell that she was inspired to put on the play because she likes “doing theatre that [contributes to] a pertinent conversation”. She certainly delivered: the interactions between disgruntled patriarch Eddie (Nate Wintraub) and the Italian immigrants he took into his home (Rob Wolfrey and Gilon Fox), related the play’s interest in immigrant stereotyping to current political discourse, such as the rhetoric of Reform UK.

From the outset it was clear that these actors were top class. Nate Wintraub delivered the standout performance as Eddie: every mannerism amounted to a volatile, insecure patriarch desperate to assert his superior masculinity. He was able to switch between aggressive, gravelly outbursts and a disturbing velvety tone, directed towards Catherine in lines such as “you look like the Madonna type”, that revealed his twisted passions. Catherine Claire was the perfect choice for the character of Catherine, nailing the portrayal of a fragile, hopelessly naïve adolescent girl, unable to understand the sinister nature of Eddie’s feelings towards her. Completing the core trio, Rose Hemon Martin transformed into a loving but exasperated maternal figure, contrasting Catherine’s girlish demeanour with self-assertiveness.

The versatility of Alice Wyles as Alfieri, Rob Wolfreys as Rodolpho, and Gilon Fox as Marco must be commended. Having seen Wyles in a vastly different part in Les Liaisons Dangereuses last year, her performance of a straight-talking, moralistic lawyer demonstrated her ability to adapt to any role. Wolfreys injected the production with humour: his entrance into an early scene as a happy-go-lucky Italian heartthrob broke through the emotional intensity, easing the audience out of the preceding tension. The differences between relaxed Rodolpho and his emotionally sombre older brother Marco were clearly defined by the juxtaposed performances of the actors: Fox began with an authentic portrayal of Marco’s sadness at leaving his wife and sick children back in Italy, and ably escalated his performance into raw, powerful anger at the ways in which Eddie had wronged him. In one strikingly memorable line at the climax of his rage, he screamed: “You will kill my children!”

Masculinity, and the undermining of it, was central to the play, and Wintraub, Wolfreys, and Fox delivered three contrasting renderings of it which were fantastic to watch. Different physicalities were key to the creation of distinct personas: Wintraub’s fixation on control over the women around him was shown in the possessive choreography, as he frequently placed a hand on Catherine’s neck while speaking to her. The less toxically masculine nature of Rodolpho’s character was portrayed by Wolfrey with a bouncy, relaxed physicality, and action towards Catherine (including playfully spinning her around as Eddie watched) that conveyed kindness and warmth rather than aggression. 

The increasingly tense interactions between Fox and Wintraub created a competition for masculine honour which Fox inevitably and violently won. The production chose to emphasise this part of the storyline, with a musical crescendo and dramatic shift in lighting at the point where Marco demonstrated his superior strength by lifting a chair up from the ground. This was effective, if unsubtle. Director Rosie Morgan-Males must be applauded for her ability to draw out these crucial differences.

Another highlight of the production was the depiction of the mother-daughter relationship between Catherine and Beatrice. Here Rose Hemon Martin’s talent was powerfully shown, sympathetically but firmly telling Catherine to start acting like a grown woman and detach herself from her uncle’s warped affections. Her portrayal was truly a blend of emotions, never leaning too far towards anger or sadness but combining the two, in lines such as “you think I’m jealous of you…you should have thought of it before”.

My critique of the music arises not from the score itself (proficiently composed by Louis Benneyworth, Peter Hardisty, and Tabby Hopper) but its constant presence. Given the raw talent of the actors, I felt some more conversational scenes would have carried equal impact without the musical backdrop. The choice to place intense musical scores within scenes of emotional nuance that required focus from the audience was distracting, especially as some lines (particularly Catherine’s) were delivered in a quiet, subtle way. The music aided the production in non-speaking, high-action moments, such as the romantic section between Catherine and Rodolpho and the climatic visit from the Immigration Bureau. More often than not, it contributed to confusion rather than clarity. Yet, having said this, student theatre is the place for experimentation; the intersection between classic and electronic music was a novel way of approaching an underscore, a bold choice which was certainly memorable.

Euan Elliot’s multi-leveled set was well-designed to accommodate more abstract as well as  realistic moments. He expressed this intention to Cherwell: “On the one hand the structures are the fire escapes and tenement buildings surrounding the flat. On the other it’s just spaces and levels.” He credits inspiration for the design to a 2014 production of A Streetcar Named Desire that used similar suggestions of tenement buildings as well as LEDs and an open-walled house around the outside of the stage. Balconies behind the action provided a means of locating Alfieri as a spotlit, godlike narrator, alluding to his authorial voice within the narrative. They also served as a device to convey the sense of an overcrowded New York community in which no family drama went undetected. The stressful humiliation of moments such as Marco spitting at Eddie were intensified by the watchful presence of the ensemble of neighbours, able to see everything from their high vantage point. Utilising a higher level permitted moments of split-screening: Wintraub as Eddie could face forward while responding to a conversation behind him, allowing the audience to make out every twitch of resentment on his face, another directorial success.

Costumes designed by Seiwaa Botley and Marlene Favata fulfilled the crew’s intention of placing this production in its “period and cultural context”. The costumes reinforced the contemporary, stereotypical feminine ideals of modesty and innocence that run throughout the script: young and beautiful Catherine in skirt and high heels, and Eddie’s older and devoted housewife Beatrice in a more practical apron. 

In general, the use of set, graphics and music fed into each other well, but the onstage action became overly chaotic towards the end: the dramatic entrance of two black-clad immigration officers had a slightly 007-esque tone that worked against the more subtle performances of the rest of the production. Some of these choices are put in context by Morgan-Males’ interpretation of the script. She told Cherwell: “The play is often viewed as naturalistic, but it’s not. It has this whole narrator framing device to it and a Greek tragic structure.” She described her directorial style as a blend of “maximalist” and “minimalist” approaches – this addition of melodrama to the naturalistic was evident in the intense lighting choices and bright-coloured background screen projections. 

Whether or not the use of dramatic graphic tableaux in connection with this well-known script was to the audience’s taste, the Playhouse is indeed known for spectacle, and Labyrinth Productions did not fail to deliver that.