The Maids’ Exploration of Performance and Identity Under the Lens

Kip Williams slipped into the wardrobe, his presence lifting the stage into a spotlight of theatrical suspense.

The renowned Australian director, known for theatrical landmark productions such as “The Picture of Dorian Gray” and “Dracula,” suddenly dominated the 13‑foot‑high mirrored cupboard fronts, accompanied by the two actresses who had earlier filmed themselves inside it.

They were rehearsing a pivotal, surreal sequence from Williams’s adaptation of Jean Genet’s “The Maids.” When Williams emerged from the wardrobe, Lydia Wilson issued a fervent chant: “Eternity of me! Eternity of me! Eternity of me!” A swirl of pink lights flooded the projected image behind her.

The scene occurs near the end of “The Maids,” which opened at St. Ann’s Warehouse on May 17 following a prior run at London’s Donmar Warehouse. It underscores a central theme in Williams’s version of Genet’s 1947 drama, centered on sisters Claire (Wilson) and Solange (Phia Saban) who perform daily rituals of dominance and submission while fantasizing about murdering their affluent employer, Madame (Yerin Ha).

“The phone pulls us farther from ourselves, forcing us to confront our identity in a world that offers endless pathways to pretence,” Williams, 39, remarked before last week’s rehearsal. “The current environment gives us ample opportunity to stop being our authentic selves.”

In this newly contextualised “Maids,” Williams preserves Genet’s plot and stylised language while reimagining the sisters’ dynamic for a contemporary audience. They serve a narcissistic, indifferent 20‑something billionaire influencer whom they both despise and admire. Claire and Solange long to kill Madame yet simultaneously desire to embody her. As they swap roles of master and servant, they film themselves adopting new personas in Madame’s lavish, flower‑laden bedroom, dotted with designer apparel. “It’s an image of capitalist femininity,” Williams said of Rosanna Vize’s set design.

Williams described the cupboard scene as a reference to “Narnia,” coupled with the unsettling imagery of a ship ride in “Charlie and the Chocolate Factory.” For these women, the fantasy represents a universe where everything is attainable.

He added that the camera was once considered a truth‑revealing tool, but now it transforms reality, acting as a mask and extending consciousness.

“We have always performed publicly, but today’s technology amplifies that performance within a curated, often misleading, context,” he explained. “This disconnect fractures our collective creative spirit.”

Williams, former head of the Sydney Theater Company (2016‑24), is celebrated for incorporating live video on stage, most famously in “The Picture of Dorian Gray,” where Sarah Snook portrayed 26 characters, and in “Dracula,” which featured Cynthia Erivo in numerous roles.

In those productions, camera crews were visible, making the act of filming an overt theatrical element. In “The Maids,” technology merges seamlessly with narrative. The stage mirrors everyday devices—phones—used by the characters and Madame, creating intimate, distorted images, augmented reality, and vivid filters.

“While audiences often group my technological use, I always tailor it to each story,” Williams said. “This was a fresh approach. Every instance of video is the character choosing to film themselves, resulting in a playful, distinctive style that emerged organically during rehearsal.”

Wilson noted the added complexity the filming introduces. “The characters are so verbose, and the language dense; manipulating the phone while speaking and moving can feel almost comical at first.”

She illustrated a typical moment: “I double‑tap to change the camera angle, activate flash, switch from a stark filter to an angelic one, then slide to the left to enter film mode—all while speaking.” She added, “It’s fascinating to witness what unfolds because you’re fully immersed in the moment.”

Williams admitted a long‑standing fascination with the play and, upon re‑reading it two years ago, was struck by its prophetic relevance. “The play always spoke to performance and identity, but today’s heightened performances and voyeuristic tendencies grant unprecedented access to the lives of the elite.”

He said the production reflects a “contemporary conundrum: the urge to become the very thing you wish to destroy.” He noted how social and political movements now confront privilege, while society remains obsessed with events like the Met Gala.

He added that the play uses technology purposefully to expose the perils of succumbing to this paradigm.

Saban described the sisters as “obsessed with viewing everything through a phone; their power lies in selecting how to see themselves or others.” She further said, “The interaction between audience, screens, and stage creates a dynamic tension between intimacy and estrangement.”

For Madame, Ha drew on influencer culture and celebrity narratives, listening to podcasts featuring people who discuss their lives. Her recent prominent role in the latest Bridgerton season and her 1.7 million Instagram followers, a fraction of Madame’s 28.4 million, gave Ha deeper insight into the character.

“I grasp Madame’s fear of abandonment, her need to perform, and self‑curation,” Ha explained. “I also understand the sisters’ love‑hate dynamic toward those they idolise and envy. These themes now resonate in my body as a result of real‑life experiences.”

Williams’s recent productions reinterpret classic works, guided by a tension between the desire for self‑actualisation and the moral consequences of that pursuit—an issue magnified by modern technology.

He added that critics often condemn his use of screens and technology on stage. “There is a widespread moral panic around this,” he said. “But we must confront the reflection of reality.”

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