A Woman Killed with Kindness review, Lyttelton

Katie Mitchell is a director who thrills with visuals. In a Woman Killed with Kindness the curtain rises onto a doll's house divided in two. On one side is the imposing entrance to a stately home - insanely high ceilings, a full height staircase, oils on the walls and a grand piano in the stone hall. On the other, an affluent arts and crafts home with low ceilings, half landings and a lot of doors. In the former, a chaste sister is sacrificed for her brother's inheritance. In the latter, the sainted wife of a sainted husband is seduced by his best friend.

Early bird caught by worms

What isn't clear is what the stories have in common after the first scene where, at his sainted sister's wedding, the renegade Sir Francis Acton is challenged by the local chinless wonder, Sir Charles Mountford, brother of the chaste sister, to a face-off with falcons. Yes, it is a bit confusing. In the tidal wave of social and financial humiliations that follow, the women are the biggest losers - one banished, the other bartered.

The playwrignt, 17th century dramatist Thomas Heywood, deliberately gave a feminist bent to this tale of upper crust horse-trading and moral absolutes, but his inability to reconcile the narratives creates an inertia at the heart of the play. It's literally like watching a rally in tennis, the action moves from left to right and back again with a void in the middle. The women's stories have neither moral nor dramatic equivalence. One is mere set dressing for most of the proceedings. Mitchell papers the gaps with iconic visuals. Both women are literally lifted and moved around the set at points, like dolls. It's as much an installation as a play.

In conclusion: Dramas of this vintage are rarely revived and Lizzie Clachan and Vicki Mortimer's set of delights will keep you watching when the action drags. Mitchell's direction is ever quirky. Be warned: it's two hours with no interval.

References
Lyn Gardner review in The Guardian
Wiki biog of Thomas Heywood