For a director’s project that would come in between an MCU sequel and the latest in the 28 Days… zombie horror series, Ibsen seems an unconventional choice. But in a world that tends to flatten complicated women and their myriad ambitions, it makes perfect sense that Nia DaCosta would turn to the tangled web of ‘Hedda Gabler’ and jolt the classic awake. It enters the 135-year-old canon with aplomb, reimagining a traditionally buttoned-up play as a feverish and sumptuous tale of desire, manipulation and hubris.
At its heart is Tessa Thompson, giving a performance so commanding that it seems to reshape the molecules around her. Her Hedda is poised and sensual with a magnetism that affects virtually every interaction. The glance is a seduction and the lightest curled lip becomes a threat, with DaCosta trusting her leading lady to convey the power of this woman in silent, lingering close-ups.
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But its not until the film’s near midway point that Thompson is matched by the luminous Nina Hoss, who alters the course of the glamorous party that Hedda is hosting in the sprawling mansion she and her husband cannot afford. As Eileen Løvborg, Hedda’s former lover, Hoss marches towards impending tragedy, seemingly unable to regain the upper hand in their relationship. But beyond the gender flipping of Eilert to Eileen, queerness flows through with sexual tension between virtually all the attendees. DaCosta allows lust and rivalry to entwine until they are indistinguishable, and Hedda’s hunger for freedom, love and power gains new dimension. Her need to control the party, the guests and her own image feels sharpened by the cruel impossibility of truly living openly.
DaCosta and cinematographer Sean Bobbitt reject prototypical period drama prestige in favour of jewel-toned opulence that transitions into queasy unease. Rooms glow with candlelight and are rendered gauzy by plumes of cigarette smoke before slowly darkening into claustrophobic shadow. Even as the sun rises, it illuminates a world that’s stark and merciless.
What makes Hedda fascinating is its balance of fidelity and reinvention. DaCosta keeps the story’s core intact: a brilliant and restless woman pushing against the limits of her life. She refuses to treat it as a text captured in amber. The dialogue is crisp and the film moves with the rhythm of a night that begins in champagne brightness but becomes oppressive and overwhelming. The result is sensual, witty and unafraid to utilise a light sprinkling of melodrama to freshen things up. The world she was born into may not have been ready for the complex aspirations of Hedda Gabler, but this feels like it’s Nia DaCosta’s time.
