It was Byron who said, “Man’s love is of man’s life a part; it is a woman’s whole existence.” This is another play showing a woman completely dependent on validation from a male partner, albeit from an era when telephone connections were unreliable and shared, party lines meant others could listen in to, or interrupt your call.   She cradles the phone balancing the handset on her facial profile, forehead to chin, begging for him to ring again. 

Ruth Wilson is a charismatic actor and holds our attention.  Her outstretched hand against the glass conveys distress. She is mostly a small, crunched up figure clinging to the telephone.  When she steps outside onto the balcony, we hear the distant sound of traffic below but we realise how low the aperture is on stage as she now seems over six feet tall.

Designer Jan Versweyveld, long term collaborator of Ivo van Hove, has too little to do with a plain set of bare cream walls behind a sliding glass window with an odd sized grey margin to our left and along the top.  No distracting design is needed with the play’s emphasis on the woman’s voice but her blue frock is beautiful.  

Freta Riding’s “Lost Without You” is a fitting musical accompaniment.  Was it played at a slower speed? It will be really interesting to compare Almodóvar’s film with Tilda Swinton with van Hove’s adaptation of Cocteau’s play with the remarkable Ruth Wilson. 

The question is how does a beautiful, intelligent woman get so dependent on this man that she says, “You are my only breathable air.”  Is there a cure for this condition? Has that much changed since 1930?  She says at one point she had a choice, “Reject five years of happiness or accept the risk.”