Miss Julie: quick links
Written in 1888, Miss Julie is an iconic play by Swedish playwright August Strindberg that explores and explodes gender and class politics. The play’s first outings were censored and after watching the latest production by Company 16 in association with The Liminal Space, directed by Harry Haynes and playing at fortyfivedownstairs, one can see why.
Miss Julie: sexual politics and power struggles
The sexual politics and power struggles at the heart of the play are ripe for a 21st Century audience, a visceral evocation of modern iterations of power and powerlessness. Sexual desire, infidelity, animal cruelty, violence between the characters, and the ribald, potent dialogue are even shocking in parts.
During an explosive moment of conflict, Miss Julie, nimbly played by Annalise Gelagotis, shouts at Jean, played by a brooding, pacing Adam-Jon Fiorentino:
Oh, I’d love to see the whole of your sex swimming in a sea of blood just like that. I think I could drink out of your skull. You think I loved you because my womb hungered for your seed.
Miss Julie: surprising, moving, tense and emotional
This production is surprising, moving, tense and emotional. It’s also, in parts, a little dull. But that dullness provides a necessary contrast to the arguments, anger and violence that follow. Christina, played by a sturdy and righteous Izabella Yena, takes the helm at the start, with long slow minutes of wiping down stainless steel benches, untying her apron, casually vaping, saying nothing, but very obviously feeling deeply. This slow start goes on just long enough that it allows the tension to build.
When the conflict starts to emerge from the tension of so many unsaid things, the play starts to move swiftly towards its conclusion.
The stage is initially a naturalistic kitchen in a bustling Greek restaurant, composed of a series of stainless steel benches with open shelves, a sink and even a stove top. Something is bubbling on the stove, wait staff flit around, music plays and a lithe Julie (or Iulia as she later calls herself in acknowledgement of her Greek heritage) gyrates, dances, laughs and flirts with everyone including herself.
Miss Julie: A truly immersive experience
When we walk in, we’re part of the world that’s been created, much more than an audience. In fact, one option is to purchase dinner, which is served by the production team before the action of the play. A truly immersive experience. As the characters lay bare their emotions and reveal their vulnerabilities, the stage is pared back to nothing but wooden boards with the occasional prop such as a knife, a wallet, a pair of white lace undies.
In classic Melbourne style, the first moment we’re in the play is an explosive ‘F**k!’ from Christina, who’s angry about something. ‘Yes, Chef,’ her staff say, trying to avoid being blamed. The entire play is peppered with ‘Yes, Chef’, a reminder of the power and roles at play here. This opening exclamation not only sets the tone for the simmering anger, but it also jolts us out of our casual watching and into our role as an audience.
While the play rises to its conflict-heavy crescendo, as Julie and Jean fight and argue back and forth, the heart of the play is Christina. The calm, focused, emotional performance by Yena is a standout; without it, there would be too much shouting and not enough substance. Gelagotis and Fiorentino occupy diametrically opposed extremes: she is the wealthy, spoiled daughter of the restaurant’s owner, while he’s a mere sous-chef with unrealistic dreams of opening his own restaurant. She is young and nubile, a poor little rich girl desperate for love, while he’s experienced in love and sex; he’s strong but powerless. In fact, both are powerless in contrast to the off-stage menacing presence of Julia’s father, the head chef who founded a restaurant empire.
Miss Julie: twists and turns from one extreme to the other
The play twists and turns, taking audiences from one extreme to the other, favouring first Julie then Jean then back again. She is monstrous and we feel for him. He is cruel and we fear for her. The roles and the performers are heart-breaking and believable. The denouement seems inevitable, but we only feel that once we reach it.
While the production is urgent, dynamic, powerful and entertaining, there were occasional missed opportunities, especially in relation to the primary conflict between Julie and Jean. The most explosive moments between these characters were tonally similar, where subtext and subtlety could have deepened the experience.
The ‘chorus’ of wait staff who also performed the role of stagehands and emotional barometers for the three characters was also underutilised. When their presence was most obvious, with their crescendo of sighs and moans, they added a layer to the other performances. While it’s important not to overdo an experimental element such as this, they could have played a more expanded role, taking the naturalistic show into more avant garde territory.
This production of Miss Julie by Company 16 is a powerhouse of emotion that explores desire and sexual politics, power and powerlessness, and will reward an audience interested in being challenged, surprised and entertained.
Read: Pride and Prejudice review: a modern iteration by Bloomshed at Darebin Arts Centre
Miss Julie will be performed at fortyfivedownstairs until 17 August 2025.
