Pygmalion Review –Where is the Line Between Misogyny and Irony?

“Women have served all these centuries as looking glasses possessing the magic and delicious

power of reflecting the figure of man at twice its natural size.” – Virginia Woolf, A Room of One’s Own (1929)

Perhaps overly-sexual, facetious and chaotic, George Bernard Shaw offers critique of the interplay between gender and English socioeconomics in the play, Pygmalion, showing at the Old Vic Theatre. Shaw’s ambiguous time period remains in Director Richard Jones' production, however this decision inadvertently makes light of gendered superiority complexes, with an attempt to be masqueraded by humor. The title itself alludes to the Greek mythological figure, Pygmalion, famously represented in Ovid’s “Metamorphoses.” In the myth, Pygmalion, a male sculptor falls madly in love with one of his female statues and brings his muse to life. Bernard Shaw’s modern adaptation stays true to Ovid’s theme of obsession, power and male fragility.

Patsy Ferran’s performance as the story’s protagonist, Eliza Doolittle, is notably wonderful. Ferran seamlessly changes the annunciation of her speech during dramatized and over-the-top phonetics lessons. Eliza begins as an ‘uneducated’ and ‘foul-mouthed’ girl, a victim of financial circumstances. She is adopted by linguist Professor Henry Higgins (played by Bertie Carvel) and Colonel Pickering (Michael Gould) as a project– the intention of transforming a ‘lost’ and helpless girl into a proper woman; loosely akin to Cinderella. Higgins and Picerking’s project raises questions of autonomy, as Eliza takes part without much convincing.

Eliza and Higgins' relationship is reminiscent of Mary Shelly’s classic novel Frankenstein. Higgins becomes obsessed with Eliza's transformation, resulting in his own detachment and self-destructive nature as she grows beyond his control and gains independence. Much like Frankenstein’s creation, Eliza outstrips Higgins and evolves into a “person”, yet is still tortured by the project. Higgins desire for control underlines the fragility of male ego when threatened by feminine power; Eliza becomes a reflection of Higgin’s own narcissism and pride. Yet in the midst of these complexities, the supposed romantic subplot of their relationship becomes lost on the audience.

While the play has the intentions to relay important themes about the facade of wealth, happiness and autonomy, it falls somewhat short, primarily due to one-dimensional characters, sexist ‘jokes’ and irritating accents. The themes become diluted through caricatures rather than characters, making the play feel more like a circus than a theatrical play– particularly with random appearances, such as Eliza’s father, who appears more-so as an underdeveloped comedic crutch. Although the play seems to draw a younger audience, it retains the outdated and sexist humor that might deter others. The degradation of women is felt when Higgins calls Eliza a ‘slut’, causing a mixture of cringing and laughter among the audience.

Standout moments from the performance include the stunning costumes and creative scene changes, maybe more memorable than the performance itself. Costume designer, Stewart Laing, steals the show with Eliza’s blue, draped gown; an imitation of Galatea, Pygamlion’s female statue. Jones makes the most of the stage, creating a visually captivating and convincing world. The actors dance on stage dressed in elegant gowns and sit around a beautifully decorated dessert table– somewhat similar to the designs in George Cuckor’s 1964 film adaption My Fair Lady. One particularly memorable scene involves the actors’ backs facing the audience during high tea. At first this presentation feels odd, but upon later reflection, this visual choice offers visual representation of social hierarchy and condescending attitudes.

Eliza’s final monologue marks her transformation and realization of class stereotypes, a significant “good for her” moment that feels somewhat weak considering that Higgins, who remains unaltered, is her audience. Pygmalion could benefit from a modern adaption– written in 1913, the script does not resonate well through a contemporary feminist lens.