To say the least, Jean Genet’s psychosexual 1947 drama ‘The Maids’ is a not an easy show to summarise. Genet was inspired by the horrifying case of Christine and Léa Papin, maids living in Le Mans, who murdered their mistress and her daughter in 1933. The murders shocked the French public, who largely viewed them as an archetypal episode in the ongoing struggle between the exploited worker and the exploitative bourgeoisie.

At the heart of Genet’s absurdist drama is the question of gender; Solange and Claire delight in dressing up in the clothing of their solipsistic mistress ‘Madame’ and playing at her socially-approved version of femininity (Claire demands, ‘I am beautiful, am I not?’) and then take pleasure in violently destroying it. This question of gender is brought to the forefront of director Zachary Myers’ production, the first in the Pembroke Players’ highly anticipated Queer Season, and featuring two male actors in the roles of the maids themselves.

"careful movement and voice work blend harshness and hypnotic delicacy"

On the whole I think the concept worked well; there is something wonderfully performative about Jonathan Iceton’s (Claire) and Lucas Marsden-Smedley’s (Solange) approaches to their characters’ femininity. In their black dresses and stockings, and made-up to resemble something of an homage to the drag world, both inside and outside the ‘ceremony’ we feel that they are experiencing a kind of crisis of femininity, their careful movement and voice work blending harshness and hypnotic delicacy. Both are assured performers, and they share an obvious chemistry. Georgie Newson-Errey's Madame had a voice with a lovely quality of careless narcissism, but she was at times too restless. Almost constantly pacing or wringing her hands, Newson-Errey was effectively able to communicate Madame’s late-night agitation and later, excitement, but ultimately seemed to perhaps overdo this aspect of characterisation, and it proved distracting. This is possibly more of an issue with the direction, however, as it was a something both Iceton and Marsden-Smedley were also occasionally guilty of.

In general the direction was strong, however, as it was evident Myers had a good understanding of the text’s complexities and of how to manage the intimate space of the New Cellars. The majority of the blocking was quite elegant, and there were a number of attractive stage pictures, often taking advantage of the full-length mirrors to create unusual sightlines. Occasionally, however, there were less skilful moments of blocking, characters sometimes moving with insufficient motivation or backed into corners behind furniture, preventing the audience from seeing their faces. But, in all fairness, these moments were few and far between. The choice to show the mirrors was one I found especially clever, transforming Madame’s apartment into a simultaneously claustrophobic and dreamlike space, one in line with one the most potent lines in the drama, when Claire speaks of her frustration at her dualism with Solange: ‘And me, I'm sick of seeing my image thrown back at me by a mirror, like a bad smell: You're my bad smell.’

"the majority of the blocking was quite elegant"

That being said, the use of the full-length mirrors also somewhat hindered the production. I found that the mirrors directly reflected back the lights into the eyes of the audience, which proved both a distraction and quite uncomfortable after almost a full hour. On the whole, closer attention to design would have significantly lifted the standard of the entire piece. Much of the set was covered in tinfoil, which created a pleasing impression of silver minimalism, in line with Genet’s discussion of wealth. But I didn’t find that this looked especially professional, and the rustling of tinfoil under the feet of the actors quickly became tiring. Costume too could have benefited from better planning. While the minimalist contrast between red and black worked well, the act of dressing (and indeed, undressing) is so crucial to the piece’s depiction of the intersection between sexuality and fantasy, that dressing Madame (at the very least) somewhat more elegantly would have created a much less amateurish aesthetic.

Those quibbles aside, this is a challenging text and Myers should be proud that he has pulled it off, complete with his own alternative interpretation. ‘The Maids’ is genuinely engaging, both as spectacle and as a piece of political theatre – and it deserves bigger audiences.