No chance of this being called Sexy Elektra. Larson blasts on stage like a riot grrrl: she sings a bit, shouts a lot, spits occasionally, all into a heavily amped microphone. At first she’s alone, then a curved curtain rises to reveal a chorus of women, also with mics, and they engage in a strange raging dialogue where she speaks bitterly and they sing in close, keening harmony (stunning music by Ted Hearne).
Elektra at the Duke of York review: alienating oddity with Brie Larson’s riot grrrl
