A DOLL'S HOUSE. To 7 March.
London
A DOLL'S HOUSE
by Henrik Ibsen Translated and adapted by Terje Tveit
Rosemary Branch Theatre To 7 March 2004
Tue-Sat 7.30pm Sun 4pm
Runs 2hr 55min One interval
TICKETS: 020 7704 6665
Review: Timothy Ramsden 14 February
A non-realist approach to a great naturalist drama that shows understanding and perceptive detail.With British theatre offering a whole suburb of Doll's Houses in a generation, the play's familiar enough to benefit from a non-realistic approach like Terje Tveit's for Dale Teater Kompani. Set in an abstraction of boxed, beribboned presents, its Christmas tree a green ladder folded in red sash by Nora (and stripped of it later by Krogstad), the production focuses on Nora's state of mind.
The visual focus, too, is often on Nora, isolated in a pool of light, voices filling her mind with husband Torvald's images of her as squirrel', spendthrift' or shhing her. If Nora's sense of self is externally conditioned, disassociation runs through the play. Characters rarely relate realistically, while the adults represent children (apparently not just the Helmer's own family) by donning red elvish caps conveying the idea but not the feel of domesticity.
As Torvald sits complacently in his chair, Nora's elsewhere on the stage. His eyes, focused on bank business, never see her distracted, anxious expression; he never catches the worried questioning in her voice.
Sex and money fuse; we're used to libidinous Torvald undressing his wife after the party upstairs. Here, he's at her from the start. To show money doesn't slip through her hands as her husband alleges, Nora slips it down her cleavage. Her sweet childlike voice knows how to wheedle and manipulate. There are plenty of long kisses, though until her new sense of herself, Nora never initiates them.
There's a kiss too between Mrs Linde and her old flame turned friend's nemesis, Krogstad. We're in no doubt how genuine is her feeling for him as she nervously arranges her appearance when he rings. Never a villain even as he threatens Nora, he offers something for her sweet tooth Krogstad's lightness as he and Christina bounce presents between them, his quick move to unloose her hair, show someone forced to hard-dealing against his nature.
There are drawbacks the Christmas songs are over-frequent, characters can become directors' tools and at times, with this intricately-organised play, you wish Tveit's production would just let them get on with it. But it's massively inventive and thoughtful. And it scores at the most vital moment.
The difficulty's always to make Nora convincing as the contented songbird of the first act and as the person who comes through her dilemma with new awareness. Some Noras give the impression they've been waiting for an excuse to slam the door. Others seem as if they've somehow crammed a consciousness-raising course into half an hour.
Sarah Head's superbly played Nora, standing as if on exhibition on a boxed Christmas present, arms out supplicating, makes the transition natural as, head to the audience, her face loses faith in her husband, her arms slowly lowering. The new, mature voice in which she speaks of her duty to herself emerges naturally from this. There's sharp dramatic irony as Torvald doesn't catch on, still talking of his forgiveness after it's clear this no longer matters to her.
It's not easy; the woman whose happiness faded to desolation as she asked why her father had to die is greatly provoked to the point where she pins her husband to a wall, lecturing him. All her props have gone, she relies on herself. It's a logical end to a richly detailed production.
Helmer: Tom Peters
Nora: Sarah Head
Kristina: Sara Dee
Rank: Paul Engers
Krogstad: Matthew Rutherford
Director/Designer: Terje Tveit
Lighting: Finnuala McNulty
2004-02-16 15:17:31