, The London Paper

In Katie Mitchell's heart-rendering setting of The Jewish Wife, Anastasia Hille crouches in her slip amid the nude-coloured silks and furs of her half-packed belongings, moving quietly in and out of the lamplight, casting huge distorted shadows as looming music punctuates her monologue. It's elegiac and subtly implies the panic of a generation by blending its heroine into the background.