A Doll’s House

By Herik Ibsen, adapted by Jeffrey Hatcher, directed by Hal Cropp
Commonweal Theatre

There are people who hear the name “Ibsen“ and think “dark, heavy, and stay away.“ This opinion has likely formed from a single experience with Ibsen, and that experience was likely with A Doll’s House. The play involves a woman in an oppressive marriage sanctioned by an oppressive society, staged in a dark living room that is usually presented in heavy Victorian furnishings. Outside the immediate setting of the play stands a world no more welcoming to a woman than the world within. With the only levity of the play coming from the morbid (and dying) Dr. Rank, perhaps it is understandable why some people file Ibsen away as dark and, well, boring.

Stef Dickens as Nora Helmer in A Doll’s House.

While there are people like me who are drawn to Ibsen, the Commonweal has certainly expanded the reach and appreciation of Ibsen in Minnesota. Along with producing a wide range of Ibsen, the Commonweal approaches Ibsen from an ongoing dialog with scholars and theaters world-wide, as well as dialog with its own local, Norwegian-influenced community. The Commonweal does not produce an occasional Ibsen as a nod to the father of Modernism; rather, Ibsen is an integral part of its ongoing exploration of art and community in Southeastern Minnesota. To those who tell me that they don’t like Ibsen, I have ask, “have you seen the Commonweal’s Ibsen?”

For the second time its 16 years of producing Ibsen, the Commonweal is taking on the big boogie man of A Doll’s House, this time, with a brand new adaptation of Ibsen by Jeffrey Hatcher.

Part of the difficulty of producing Ibsen in English must be the translations. Certainly Ibsen is serious—his characters are often fixated on living a serious life—but Ibsen is funny as well. I’m guessing that much of this humor is lost in the translation. Dr. Rank, the morbid specter of death, is continuously funny. Nora’s move from a childish bird to a serious woman is clumsy, and funny. Torvald’s self-proclaimed valor and righteousness is as humorous as it is tragic. Hatcher’s adaptation and the Commonweal’s production brings this humor to the front. The play is funnier than I remember it.

The Victorian furnishings are largely gone as well. This production mimics the claustrophobia of a doll house, not by filling it with velvet furnishings, but by clearing the stage. This living room only has two hard, straight-backed chairs. This room isn’t a comfortable place for real people.

And yet, real people live here. Nora, played by Stef Dickens is a real person. Hacker’s script requires Dickens to carry the emotional movement of the play on her capable shoulders. She is alone on stage almost as much as she is with other characters. To the audience, she wears her heart on her sleeve: we share in her secrets from the small (sneaking macaroons) to the larcenous. Yet all of these plots are meant to maintain the illusion of happiness within the doll living room. Her final plan, however, comes as a surprise to the audience. She is no longer conspiring with the audience or Dr. Rank or with Linda: her final action is taken on her own, proclaiming her own agency as she heads into an uncertain future. Dickens is a delight to watch as she makes this transition.

The set within the set: Nora’s dolls play on a doll version of Jeff Dintaman’s set.

Dr. Rank is another delicious Ibsen character. David Hennessey plays the love struck family friend who is both self obsessed with his own mortality and a reliable observer of the doll house. It is the doll house that he comes to see, yet he is all too well aware of its limits and his status inside it. In one scene, he hurls insults at Linda (who presumably can’t hear him from the next room) whom he sees as a threat to his position in the family. Rank seems to be the confidant of Nora and of Torvald, a family friend for sure, but friends of the individuals separately. Hennessey’s character is clearly uncomfortable when on stage with both Nora and Torvald. (Again, there are only two chairs.)

Jeffry Hacker has done fine work with this adaption. As he has done with the other Ibsens for the Commonweal, he has gotten rid of the minor characters (usually the children, much of the household staff), much of the furnishings, and the repetitive dialog. He also has done a good job of finding Ibsen’s humor. The language seems fresh and less formal than most Ibsen translations that I have read (my own reading of translations is haphazard, at best). Twice in the production, however, a character uses a phrase or word that seems out of place because it feels too modernly American. While the expressions may have been exactly what Ibsen intended, for me, they drew me away from the play and reminded me that I was watching a play and that the play was a translation.

The main problem with any production of A Doll’s House is the difficulty of imagining the radical nature of the ending. For Ibsen’s audience, the attitude of Torvold would have been like the air they breathed; the audience would easily have understood how Torvald felt. But for a modern audience, Torvold might seem like a relic of history. Daniel Stock is very convincing as Torvold, and his movement between supposed pillar of society to doting sugar-daddy husband is appropriately nauseating. Yet it might be hard for an audience to see Torvald as a real character. I don’t think Ibsen meant for the audience to cheer Nora’s walking out on Torvald—or to even feel that leaving her husband was a possible solution. I think Ibsen intended his audience to feel for Torvald, too, because his audience would have been made up of men and women who saw the world as Torvald saw it. This is the kind of empathy that would be difficult for any actor, translation, or production to garner. I had hoped that Jeffery Hacker would have been able to find a way to move this part of the play into the new century, but that miracle didn’t happen.

Even with this small shortcoming, the ending is rich with ambiguity. While the audience may approve of Nora’s leaving, it is clear that her personal growth will not likely translate into happiness or even survival outside of the doll room. There is a lot to chew on in the Commonweal’s production of A Doll’s House. It isn’t a comfortable play, but it certainly is one that I wouldn’t want to miss. This is a credit to Ibsen, Hatcher, and the Commonweal. In fact, making us uncomfortable might be a prerequisite of good theater.

A Doll’s House plays in repertory with Blithe Spirit through June 14.
Visit the Commonweal for schedules and tickets: Commonweal Theatre (www.commonwealtheatre.org)