More than 60 years after Sylvia Plath’s death in 1963, the poet’s legacy continues to haunt the cultural imagination, and now, the stage.
A New Play Grapples with Plath’s Enduring Shadow
“Sylvia Sylvia Sylvia,” now playing at the Geffen Playhouse, explores the complexities of marriage, ambition, and mental health through the lens of Plath’s life and work.
- Beth Hyland’s new play, “Sylvia Sylvia Sylvia,” opened Thursday at the Geffen Playhouse in Los Angeles.
- The play interweaves the story of Plath and Ted Hughes with a contemporary couple grappling with similar issues.
- Critics note the play’s ambitious structure but find the writing uneven and the performances lacking nuance.
The specter of Sylvia Plath is a persistent one. Janet Malcolm, writing in The New Yorker, famously likened biographers obsessed with Plath to “the professional burglar,” relentlessly searching for intimate details. Plath, who died by suicide at age 30, left behind a body of work that unflinchingly examined her descent into mental illness, securing her place as a pivotal figure in American literature.
The allure of Plath’s life is something this writer understands. A few years ago, while visiting friends in London, I found myself repeatedly drawn to the Primrose Hill flat she once shared with her husband, Ted Hughes, gazing at the building’s commemorative blue plaque.
Hyland’s play transports us to a different Boston apartment, one Plath and Hughes occupied before the arrival of their children, a period marked by striving and uncertainty. “Sylvia Sylvia Sylvia” juxtaposes the couple’s struggles with those of Sally (Midori Francis) and Theo (Noah Keyishian), a contemporary pair navigating marital discord, competitive careers, and their own mental health challenges.
World premieres are always a gamble, and this one feels unfinished. The play’s dual timeline – 1958 and the present – demonstrates conceptual ambition, but Hyland struggles to establish a consistent rhythm. Sally, a writer whose debut novel was a success, is facing a daunting deadline for her second book, a project about Plath and Hughes. Theo, meanwhile, has just won a prestigious literary award and is being considered for a position at Columbia University.
Sally’s anxieties are compounded by a recent miscarriage and a strained marriage. She confesses to Theo, with a chilling directness, “I have to finish the draft. If I can’t do that when I’m living in their apartment, I should honestly just kill myself.” This desperate statement underscores the precariousness of her mental state, blurring the lines between reality and illusion, prompting the audience to question whether Sylvia and Ted are ghosts, hallucinations, or simply literary projections.
Unfortunately, the portrayals of Plath and Hughes themselves fall flat. Cillian O’Sullivan’s accent as Ted wavers, and Marianna Gailus’s interpretation of Plath feels more akin to a character from a Ryan Murphy television series than the complex poet herself.
Marianna Gailus, left, and Cillian O’Sullivan in “Sylvia Sylvia Sylvia” at Geffen Playhouse.
(Jeff Lorch)
The scenes between Sally and Theo are more compelling, though their dynamic feels relentlessly combative. Theo earnestly attempts to be supportive, but Sally remains perpetually dissatisfied. As their marriage and careers unravel, her mental health deteriorates. A frantic, junk-food-fueled writing session suggests a manic episode, and Theo watches helplessly, fearing another suicide attempt. The apartment, meticulously designed by Studio Bent, becomes a pressure cooker as Theo’s fortunes rise and Sally’s confidence plummets.
Hyland effectively highlights the parallels between the two couples. Her portrayal of Ted is a chilling archetype of patriarchal control, while Theo, though more evolved, harbors his own blind spots that exacerbate Sally’s insecurities. The power dynamics, though shifted by time, remain precarious.
The play falters as it attempts to weave together these timelines and themes. Director Jo Bonney introduces jarring elements – Sylvia appearing and disappearing through a refrigerator, a sudden shift to a crimson-lit set – that feel disconnected and ultimately unsatisfying.
The clash between Sally’s unrelenting resentment and Theo’s unwavering support isn’t dramatically compelling. Midori Francis delivers a fiercely prickly Sally, but offers little in the way of empathy. Noah Keyishian’s gentle Theo is so accommodating that Sally’s abrasiveness feels less like a portrayal of mental illness and more like theatrical unpleasantness. Perhaps this is intentional, but there’s a fine line between depicting chaos and simply being chaotic.
Ted is a caricature of arrogance, but Theo’s flaws are too subtle for a play desperately in need of definition. Even his betrayal – using private marital details in his writing – feels ambiguous. Unable to resolve the play’s shapelessness, Hyland resorts to a rambling monologue in which Sally essentially talks her way into the future, a frustratingly abrupt ending.
Plath, according to the play, warned Sally that attempting to write about her would be met with resistance. But in the end, “Sylvia Sylvia Sylvia” collapses under its own weight.
‘Sylvia Sylvia Sylvia’
Where: Gil Cates Theater at Geffen Playhouse, 10886 Le Conte Ave., L.A.
When: 7:30 p.m. Wednesdays-Thursdays, 8 p.m. Fridays, 3 and 8 p.m. Saturdays, 2 and 7 p.m. Sundays. Ends Mar. 8
Tickets: $45 – $139 (subject to change)
Contact: (310) 208-2028 or www.geffenplayhouse.org
Running time: 1 hour, 45 minutes (no intermission)
