When Ingrid Bergman and Glenda Jackson interpreted the iconic character of Hedda Gabler on screen — Bergman for TV in 1962 and Jackson for the cinema in 1975 — both actresses had already won two Best Actress Oscars each. Now, an American actress known for her role in the “Creed” trilogy and more indie fare such as “Passing,” Tessa Thompson, takes on the role in a reimagined version of Ibsen’s play, simply called “Hedda.” 

To say she displays courage and more than a little of the Ibsen character’s ambition by choosing the part is only fitting, and on the whole the actress succeeds in conveying Hedda’s mental and emotional tremors. It is the film, unfortunately, that lets her down.

The new adaptation, which arrives this week on Amazon Prime, is directed by up-and-coming auteur Nia DaCosta, and it’s refreshing to have a female filmmaker grapple with Ibsen’s meanings and evasions. What is also welcome are her intriguing updates, setting the story in 1950s England instead of turn-of-the-century Oslo; having Hedda be the mixed-race, illegitimate child of a British general, and turning the character of Lövborg, who is a former friend/love of Hedda’s, into a woman. 

As audacious is her weaving of the play’s plot over the course of one night’s party, with certain roles expanded, new ones introduced, and others nixed.

Despite some incisive acting and observations, though, these alterations add up to a movie that’s cluttered, unsure of its intentions, and ultimately misguided, diluting the power of the master playwright’s tragic realism and psychological clarity. Ms. DaCosta shows no familiarity with the era or her screenplay’s social setting — a stately manor in the environs of a university town somewhere in Britain — with details either vague or questionable. The art direction and lighting fills the scenes with atmosphere to make up for what’s missing, though like the movie, it is fussy and over-elaborate, an inelegant mismatch of styles.

Artists have long “reimagined” classic plays in order to align them with more contemporary concerns, with modernizations of Shakespeare appearing frequently on stage and screen. The character of Hedda herself has been compared with Hamlet in terms of complexity, and it seems the perfect time for a new perspective on the seductive, wilful woman after the heyday of the #MeToo movement. 

Ms. DaCosta preserves the so-called problem play’s insights into gender power dynamics, and, by giving the tortured relationship between Hedda and Lövborg a lesbian twist, she also makes the story more feminist and the action more fated. Yet the director’s smart updates get lost in her lumpy reshaping of the text’s original four acts — she even adds a fifth — and her substitution of Ibsen’s steady progression of unease and social satire with melodramatics, strained hijinks, and underdeveloped, at times improbable, scenarios. 

The basic plot remains: Hedda and her husband George (Tom Bateman) have returned from their honeymoon to live in a grand residence they cannot afford, though Judge Brack (Nicholas Pinnock), who desires an affair with Hedda, has helped them financially. George hopes to secure a permanent position at a local college but an old rival, Lövborg (Nina Hoss), is also vying for the job. Recently sober, Lövborg has written a book with Thea (Imogen Poots), an unhappily married woman, and brings the manuscript to George for his feedback. Shortly afterward, the pages go missing.

Despite her festive setup, Ms. DaCosta manages to keep nearly every major scene from the play in some shape or form while adding others that create a heightened visual experience, inclusive of fireworks, dancing, skinny-dipping, and maze navigation. Still, most of the character interactions are much more frank than Ibsen’s nuanced dialogue and the play’s structural intimations, resulting in muddled motivations and on occasion some awkward blocking.

The movie’s most egregious new element is the director’s attempts to sketch out the subject of Lövborg’s upcoming book, which is described in the play as about the “future” and in the film as regarding “sex.” In a later scene, the writer explains the nature of sexual fetishism to impressed scholars and intellectuals, and one sits astonished at the absurdity that they would not have heard or read about the phenomenon before. The scene is particularly embarrassing for Ms. Hoss, who nonetheless is impressive as Lövborg, because she is required to deliver it with a wet bodice.

Ibsen’s play lives or dies by the performance at its center, and Ms. Thompson’s portrayal balances obvious arrogance, defiance, and cunning with perceptible fear and despair. As Hedda whips past and around her guests, the actress’s bulbous cheekbones and body language clear a confident path, while her voice, sometimes in a lower register and affecting a deliberateness, signals insecurity, irony, and malice. Almost a femme fatale, Hedda can be a difficult character to fully understand — for both the performer and the audience — though Ms. Thompson gets close to her desperate yet hard heart. 

If the actress doesn’t quite get there, most of the fault lies with the film’s conception and jolting rhythm, how the character gets lost in the director’s expanded, jumbled, and confounding vision. Near the film’s end, Brack says to Hedda, “Good idea, sloppily executed,” and one can’t argue with inadvertent insight.