REVIEW: No One Has A Hold Over Tessa Thompson's 'Hedda'
- Jessica Haight-Angelo
- 12 hours ago
- 6 min read
Disclaimer: This review contains minor spoilers for Hedda.
In Nia DaCosta’s film adaptation of Henrik Ibsen’s play, Hedda Gabler, the title character, played by Tessa Thompson, finds herself stifled by the rigid suburbanism of 1950s London which ends up having much in common with 1891-era Christiania, Ibsen’s in-universe nod to his stomping grounds in Oslo, Norway. DaCosta’s Hedda is neither titularly tarnished with her husband, George Tesman (Tom Bateman)’s surname, nor her father’s, though it is clear that their influence is what keeps her in high society. Even so, George’s struggle to maintain appearances at her behest seems to be an open secret among the help - hired as one-off servants in order to fill out a largely empty mansion for an impromptu party - with Hedda’s lone claim to fame being a set of pistols inherited from the late General Gabler, “pretty little things” for his “pretty little thing,” she remarks sardonically to Judge Roland Brack (Nicholas Pinnock), who takes advantage of her honesty as the evening progresses. In this sense, in spite of the handful of creative directing liberties taken by DaCosta, the plight of Hedda, a diminished and increasingly desperate housewife, remains intact.
“You were like a fire before you were domesticated”
Though Hedda’s home is itself a character of sorts, DaCosta’s choice to avoid wide shots and even to keep certain characters just off-screen while they nonetheless carry on conversations crucial to the narrative gives much of the film a claustrophobic feeling, one which is almost certainly meant to center Hedda’s catastrophic boredom with the bourgeoisie. Though Hedda is sometimes referred to as the female Hamlet, her manic and depressive turns as portrayed by Thompson are perhaps more reminiscent of another Shakespearean staple, none other than Lady Macbeth. Motivated largely by misery, Thompson’s Hedda manipulates many partygoers with her trademark “whimsicality,” whose accompanying “consequences” occur when she realizes that she’s not really fooling anybody. Like Lady Macbeth, Hedda’s enterprising international spirit makes for an entertaining party guest, though she proves even worse at resisting her respective (though not respectable) vices than her ex, alcoholic academic Eileen Lovborg (Nina Hess), gender-swapped by DaCosta for an added layer of intrigue, to say nothing of Thompson’s Hedda herself being biracial.
Of the decision to place her Hedda in 1950s London, DaCosta acknowledges via an interview with Radio Times that “it was this decade where everyone’s trying to figure out how to be after World War Two … How to be back to the nuclear family, how society should be run.” Ironically, in Ibsen’s play, the original Eilert Lovborg’s much anticipated manuscript “deals with the civilising forces of the future.” However, Eileen’s own magnum opus, as she drunkenly explains to a smoky room full of male peers who are more interested in the saucy sex stories she might tell for their amusement than picking her brain, focuses on humanity’s hidden fetishes and fancies a la a bar patron who allegedly begged her to let him sniff her feet. Perhaps this change reflects DaCosta’s worry that Eilert’s concerns are too old-fashioned even for the regressive 50s; ergo, the shift seems a justifiable step towards (somewhat) modernizing Hedda.
“Let the women talk!”
That DaCosta’s Hedda is stacked with three female leads is impressive, no less because it does not diminish the drama that unfolds. Like the late, great Jay Gatsby, Hedda positions herself as a mysterious master of affairs, stirring up strife with calculated comments and actions alike. Determined to get Eileen to ditch Thea Clifton (Imogen Poots), her new girlfriend - and Hedda’s former schoolmate whom she notably bullied, though she airily claims that she does not remember being so beastly - finds Hedda suggesting an impromptu swim, during which she simply smirks while watching a couple of male guests toss Thea into the water. As the evening progresses, so too does Eileen’s resolve not to drink wane, with Hedda traipsing after her (as her husband and Judge Brack alike look on knowingly and disapprovingly) to ensure that she does just that. The inherent drama of Hedda is not whether or not chaos will eventually ensue, of course, but how Hedda herself will react as it happens, to say nothing of the aftermath of her malicious mess-making. Here, DaCosta’s close-ups on Thompson’s micro-expressions as the words of her various current and former lovers fall upon her usually unwilling ears make up for the lack of Baz Luhrmann-esque scenic sweeps - that is, the camera only has eyes for (and on) Hedda.
Unlike Gatsby, the surrounding opulence is not sufficient to allow Hedda to conduct her affairs without party guests’ gawking or guessing what her next move will be. In one scene, Hedda is even interrupted from flirting with Eileen (to Thea’s considerable chagrin) by her own husband, who demands that she return to his side to entertain all of the guests, as is more appropriate than lurking in various nooks and crannies and coming back with smeared lipstick. “Play the part and stay out of trouble,” Hedda is reminded repeatedly as the night wears on, though as Thea eventually proposes as Hedda continuously cockblocks her from Eileen, “You don’t want her in control.” Fighting a losing battle against her lover’s addiction and her lover’s ex-lover’s determination to make Eileen break her vow of sobriety, Thea eventually exits, tearfully telling Eileen that “No matter what I do, you’re always going to be on this path.” Alas, alienating Eileen is not enough for Hedda, either: “You’re upset I couldn’t choose you,” Eileen tells her. From there, it is only a matter of time before their hands graze longingly over one another, the scene ending, seemingly inevitably, with Eileen pocketing one of Hedda’s father’s proffered pistols.
“Hedda Gabler doesn’t love anyone but herself, and Hedda Tesman doesn’t exist”
More than a queer reimagining of Ibsen’s infamous Hedda starring a mixed-race actress, the most controversial aspect of DaCosta’s adaptation might be how it ends. Without spoiling everything, the ambiguous nature of whether or not certain characters survive the events of Hedda’s party is unexpected for those familiar with the source material. Far from Ibsen’s Hedda’s fantasies of clean, artistic suicide - namely, Eilert’s, and then her own once he botches the appeal after accidentally discharging the aforementioned borrowed pistol “in the bowels” at a brothel - DaCosta’s choice to potentially leave more of the main players alive is somehow even bleaker. That is, one can hardly imagine the already flighty Hedda further shackled by society, by actual chains, no less, presuming Judge Brack makes good on his threat to inform law enforcement whose pistol is found in her ex-lover’s slackened grip. On the other hand, perhaps Hedda would take advantage of her increased notoriety a la Chicago’s Roxie Hart and make the most of her prolonged predicament. Indeed, both Heddas’ calculated mention of a supposed pregnancy to their doting yet dull husbands is right out of Roxie’s playbook. Even so, DaCosta’s Hedda’s brown skin and lesbianism may well be a harder sell on a 1950s jury than an assisted murder charge. Ergo, more than likely, Judge Brack’s proposal to Hedda that “People generally get used to the inevitable,” beyond its initial intention of shoehorning him further into her affairs, would ring hollow whilst replaying in her head again and again as she lived out the rest of her days behind bars, or worse.
Overall, DaCosta takes on Hedda with a mostly clear vision in mind, though in the puddles of ambiguity that occasionally muddle it, Thompson’s title character tends to reside, weighty expressions and restless body language included. Likewise, the carefully concocted scenery is on boldest display while underscored by the film’s sparse score, largely composed by Hildur Guðnadóttir, including a cover of Betty Hutton’s 1951 single, “It’s Oh So Quiet,” whose alternating quietude and brassy trumpeting is fitting for Thompson’s bipolar Hedda, whose staggered breathing punctuates the scene in which said song is featured. Indeed, Hedda inevitably “blow[s] a fuse,” at which point “The devil cuts loose (zing boom).”
Rating: ★★★★☆
About Hedda
Premiere Date: October 29, 2025
Writer: Nia DaCosta
Director: Nia DaCosta
Production: Orion Pictures, Plan B Entertainment
Distribution: Amazon MGM Studios
Cast: Tessa Thompson, Imogen Poots, Tom Bateman, Nicholas Pinnock and Nina Hoss
Synopsis: A provocative reimagining of Henrik Ibsen’s classic play, Hedda follows enigmatic newlywed Hedda (Tessa Thompson), who is outwardly composed but hiding a simmering discontent that threatens to explode when the brilliant and charismatic Eileen Lovberg (Nina Hoss) reenters her life. Over the course of a raucous party, the high and low of society endure the consequences of this dangerous and unknowable woman yearning for a past love. What ensues is a ruthless game of manipulation, where lust, jealousy, and betrayal collide. Written and directed by Nia DaCosta, Hedda is a daring exploration of power, desire, and a woman’s refusal to be confined.