WHO'S AFRAID OF VIRGINIA WOOLF?
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Date Reviewed: 08/08/2025
What a rollercoaster of a night in a packed Holden Street Theatre.
Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf? A play by Edward Albee, first staged in 1962, winning several awards then and since. It examines the complexities of George and Martha’s marriage as they entertain guests Nick and Honey late one night after a college faculty party
I’ve seen this play twice before, and each time I left more uncomfortable and unsettled than when I arrived. But never have I felt the raw discomfort and emotional pain of Nick and Honey, and even more so of George and Martha, as acutely as I did during this performance.
The set is brilliant, a room clearly lived in, yet visibly strained. A half-eaten apple on the desk, a banana skin in an overflowing bin, books and papers scattered in the chaos of academic life. A mouse trap tucked away, a well-stocked bar, and stashes of empty bottles, and dusty surfaces that whisper of neglect. The bold, slightly askew painting on the back wall hints at the imbalance simmering beneath the surface.
The lighting design is quietly ingenious, with each scene dissolving into darkness in a way that invites reflection. These subtle fadeouts allow the audience to linger in the emotional residue of what has just unfolded. The final scene’s fade is especially striking—drawn out and deliberate, it underscores the weight of unresolved pain and the lingering sense that resolution, if it comes at all, will be neither swift nor simple.
Chris Asimos is excellent as the young and ambitious Nick, good-looking, well-dressed, and fiercely protective of Honey. He’s also shrewd and aware of the social dynamics of a small college community, and knows what, and who, it takes to climb the ladder. Jessica Corrie initially brings a touch of light and innocence as Honey, all pink and white, sweet and adoring. She is very well cast. Her dancing scene is hilarious but tinged with something darker. Her character develops greater depth as the play progresses. Brant Eustice’s George is layered and compelling. His failings cruelly flaunted by Martha with repeated references and comparisons made to her accomplished father. George shows he does have some compassion but for the most part is cruel and mocking. Martha Lott is a powerhouse. The cruelty, the pain — she doesn’t just play Martha, she inhabits her. It’s a performance that cuts deep. But also there is the vulnerability, the need to be loved. The accumulation of years of disappointment and pain. Peter Goers’ direction is spot on.
This is a long play — three hours, two intervals, and not the most comfortable seating, yet the time flew. From the first moment, we were pulled into the drama, the grief, and the pain. It was relentless and utterly absorbing.
Bravo.
Reviewed by Deb Secombe