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Playwright: Edward Albee
Director: Sarah Goodes
Cast: Emily Goddard, Kat Stewart, David Whiteley, Harvey Zielinski
Images by Prudence Upton
Theatre review
Martha and George are locked in perpetual combat, their hostility not merely private but performative. Their decision to invite a young couple into their home becomes an act of exhibition, a deliberate staging of their mutual destruction. In Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?, Edward Albee exposes the tenacity with which individuals cling to their own suffering, sustained by an insatiable attachment to prestige, privilege, and power. Though Martha and George possess the agency to abandon their cyclical torment, they remain ensnared by the illusion of respectability, choosing the stability of social appearance over the uncertainty of liberation.
At sixty-three years old, the play has become something of a grand old dame of the theatrical canon, yet its genuinely subversive sensibilities ensure it remains as confrontational and affecting as ever. Under the direction of Sarah Goodes, the work gains renewed vitality: she not only excavates the raw truths within Martha and George’s volatile dynamic but also deftly unearths the humour embedded in their vicious exchanges. Goodes has taken an enduring classic and rendered it freshly incisive—polished to a gleam, yet capable of striking with the force of a blunt instrument.
Harriet Oxley’s production design evokes the period with accuracy—perhaps a touch conventional, yet undeniably effective in grounding the drama. Matt Scott’s lighting, together with music and sound design by Grace Ferguson and Ethan Hunter, begins with subtle restraint, almost imperceptible at first, but grows increasingly potent as the evening unfolds. By the time the bickering subsides and the underlying trauma surfaces, their contributions prove essential, shaping the production’s emotional crescendo with impressive efficacy.
Kat Stewart could hardly be more compelling in the role of Martha. She delivers a richly nuanced portrayal, demonstrating an intricate grasp of the character’s psychological intricacies while imbuing every moment with delectable theatricality. Her gestures, whether minute or grand, command attention, and we remain enthralled by each. As George, David Whiteley conjures the precise timbre of the mid-century American bourgeoisie through his masterful vocal modulations. His comparatively restrained approach proves just as resonant and magnetic as Stewart’s flamboyance, creating a riveting equilibrium in this deliciously acrimonious marital duel. By contrast, the younger couple, Honey and Nick—played by Emily Goddard and Harvey Zielinski—are less persuasive. Though their performances elicit steady laughter, their characterisations lack conviction, never fully embodying the personas they attempt to construct.
We can see so clearly that Martha and George could lead far better lives, if only they could embrace a simpler existence. Yet the seductive allure of wealth and status keeps them shackled to their interminable misery. Each day, they choose to persist in their poisonous habits, unable—or unwilling—to relinquish the trappings of class that sustain their suffering. In the end, we recognise something of ourselves in their torment—the way we cling to what hurts us most, simply because it feels like home.

















































