REVIEW: A Doll’s House (Infamous Commonwealth)

  
  

Time-warping Ibsen to 1962 creates mixed results

  
  

Kate Cares and Stephen Dunn in Henrik Ibsen's "A Doll's House", presented by Infamous Commonwealth Theatre

  
Infamous Commonwealth Theatre presents
  
A Doll’s House
  
Written by Henrik Ibsen
Adapted by Christopher Hampton
Directed by
Chris Maher
at
Greenhouse Theater Center, 2257 N. Lincoln (map)
through Feb 27  |  tickets: $20  |  more info

Reviewed by Dan Jakes

In traditional A Doll’s House productions, when Nora makes her infamous Act III departure, she’s presumably venturing out into a 19th-century world completely unaccustomed to female independence, her fate a mystery. During the last five minutes before the curtain closes, the Norwegian housewife becomes a radical icon for feminist and theatrical scholars to likely debate over for centuries to come.

Place that same ending in a 1962 New York apartment, and what happens? When Nora grabs her suitcase and heads for the door, we already know that a revolutionary wave of women’s liberation is waiting on the other side. Is she taking a risk? Sure. But is it still an iconic one? Not really. In fact, give her a month or two on her friend’s couch, and she’ll probably be fine.

Infamous Commonwealth Theatre debuts its sacrifice-themed 2011 season with this half-hearted update on A Doll’s House, directed by ICT Artistic Director Chris Maher.

Conceptually, a 60’s “Doll’s House” has potential, which a few glimmers of inspiration confirm. As Nora (played competently by Kate Cares) sashays around in her meticulously clean, gold-wallpapered home, she’s underscored by records of the era’s heart-tugging Christmas carols. Even when her family is on the verge of collapse, she maintains a pure, innocent image, not unlike the 60’s themselves—a turbulent decade ironically synonymous with child-like Technicolor and simplicity.

If only Maher took his idea further. Save for some cubed ice and retro furniture, there’s very little adaptation from more classic productions, and no, the inclusion of an excerpt from Betty Friedan’s “The Feminine Mystique” in the Playbill is not enough. The lack of investment is especially troublesome when it comes to the play’s language. Instead of highlighting A Doll’s House’s contemporary parallels, the semi-update mostly just brings forth the play’s inherent melodrama. Stephen Dunn (Torvald) deserves extra credit for being able to utter lines like “I don’t want any melodramatics!” without wincing, given the entirety of the play until that point is just that.

It’s all moot, really, since Maher’s production is hindered by elements far more basic than concept. Casting is the most notable.

As Krogstad, baby-faced Josh Atkins neither looks nor sounds the part of a blackmailing antagonist. Nothing states that Nora’s nemesis has to be a deep-voiced, brooding menace, but Atkins presumes that archetype while not having any of the physical or vocal characteristics to back it up. The result resembles a boy wearing his father’s suit. Cares does her blustering best to seem intimidated by Atkins’ threats, to little dramatic avail.

But no player is more troublesome than Genevieve Thompson, fatally cast as Nora’s confidante Kristine. Thompson recites almost all of her lines with forced exasperation. It sounds as if she’s giving a first table-reading, discovering her lines’ beats a moment or two after she’s said them. The interactions between her and Cares rarely seem to take place on the same page.

A few minor, distracting details go unnoticed by the production team, like Nora’s Act I synthetic-fabric dress. Some lines are muffled under the snowsuit-like material (“Let’s not swish swish talk business. It’s so boring! swish.”)

Scenes between Nora and Torvald are this “Doll’s House’s” saving grace. Dunn and Cares effectively capture Ibsen’s intentionally blurred familial relationship between husband and wife. To Torvald, Nora is his spouse, but treats her as his child. He wags his finger in parental disapproval when he catches her sneaking some sweeties, only to later leer at her as she dances a sexually-charged Tarantella. When Nora kneels beside Torvald, it’s anyone’s guess whether she’s about to ask for candy or fellate him.

The duo preserves just enough integrity for a passable production. But even under new clothes, this is amateur-ish Ibsen, all dressed up with nowhere to go.

  
  
Rating: ★★
  
  

Featuring: Josh Atkins, Kate Cares, Stephen Dunn, Barbara Roeder Harris, Amanda Roeder, Mark Shallow, and Genevieve Thompson

Production Team: Katherine Arfken (Scenic Design), Tom Aufmann (Technical Director), Sarah Gilmore (Assistant Stage Manager), Sarah Luse (Production Manager), Rachel M. Sypniewski (Costume Designer and Managing Director), Mac Vaughey (Lighting Designer), Chas Vbra (Sound Designer) and Cade Wenthe (Stage Manager).

REVIEW: The Play About the Baby (BackStage Theatre)

BackStage gets sexy, absurd

 

 
BackStage Theatre presents
 
The Play About the Baby
 
by Edward Albee
directed by
Matthew Reeder
at
Chopin Studio Theatre, 1543 W. Division (map)
through May 8th (more info)

reviewed by Barry Eitel

Longevity seems to be a difficult goal for many great American playwrights. Not that their works can’t endure for years to come, which is why they’re great. However, many of them struggle with churning out great plays over the entire span of their career. Quite a few start off white hot, but lose their streak as the years wear on. Arthur Miller won his first Tony in his thirties for All My Sons, but ended his career with the mediocre Finishing the Picture after years of other mediocre plays. Tennessee Williams  also witnessed the success of The Glass Menagerie in his thirties, but didn’t see much success in the last thirty years of his life.

Edward Albee, however, apparently has escaped this curse. He started his career with the brilliant Zoo Story in 1958 and won the Tony Award in 2003 for his brilliant The Goat, or Who is Silvia? He still has his duds (I’m looking at you, Sandbox) but he has definitely aged well and is still kicking out revisions and new works. The Play About the Baby is one of his later plays (1998). It captures the refreshing absurdism that put Albee on the map, even though it was written after most other absurdists were dead. Not often produced, it’s a treat that BackStage Theatre is mounting the rarely seen play, even though it has its bumps.

The play is indeed about a baby, but also about reality, perception, loss of innocence—pretty mature stuff. It starts with a Boy and Girl (Patrick De Nicola and Kate Cares, respectively), living their blissful lives in a blinding white Eden-like setting. They are blessed with a baby, youth, and unquenchable sex drives. Their world is invaded by the bizarrely vaudevillian Man and Woman (Michael Paces and Karen Yates ). The baby mysteriously disappears, and Boy and Girl do whatever they can to find it (or possibly, believe in it again?). Innocence is stripped away. A double-headed snake, the Man and Woman force-feed the younger couple the fruit of knowledge.

Matthew Reeder’s production is surreal, hilarious, disturbing, intimate, and heartbreaking. He doesn’t try to cram a concept onto Albee, but presents the script as written. Some have suggested theories like Man and Woman are Boy and Girl grown up, but you won’t find any hint of that here. As whacky as it is, Reeder’s interpretation of the play is straightforward. This was the smart choice, but unfortunately Albee can get a little confusing, with his blurring of theatricality, absurdism, and reality. The second act, for example, is pretty much the first act chopped up and repeated. Everything gets a little muddled towards the end; it can be hard to keep up.

The cast deeply respects Albee. De Nicola is vicious yet infantile; Cares matches his vulnerability with soft-spoken empathy and a (occasionally disturbing) motherly quality. Paces and Yates are charismatic, funny, and sort of terrifying. Their extended direct addresses can slip into Open Mic Night stand-up territory, but overall they keep the ship afloat and the audience entertained.

This is only the second production of The Play About the Baby in the city since the Chicago premier in 2003. That isn’t too surprising—Albee doesn’t stake out a clear narrative, there’s full-frontal nudity…even the fact that no character has an actual name is kind of scary. Reeder and BackStage bravely stage this tough script, though, and the cast never backs down from Albee’s challenges. Next season sees a flurry of Albee (both newer and older, but all of it is genius), and BackStage’s The Play About the Baby is a deliciously absurd first course.

 
Rating: ★★★
 

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Review: Next Theatre’s “boom”

Next Theatre’s boom Is All Wit, Very Little Heart

BOOM 5

Next Theatre presents:

boom

by Peter Sinn Nachtrieb
directed by Jason Southerland
thru October 11th (buy tickets)

Reviewed by Paige Listerud

Of what value is survival to the human race? Everything, wouldn’t you think? But what if survival doesn’t mean that much, especially if the quality of life is compromised or if other life will go on and develop without us? Next Theatre’s production of boom, by San Francisco playwright Peter Sinn Nachtrieb, is meant to be the beginning of their season-long dramatic exploration of these themes. Works like Alan Weisman’s The World Without Us are presented for sale to further facilitate the audience’s discussion.

BOOM 4 Nachtrieb’s breakout success is bright, sly, and pyrotechnically witty in its explorations of life’s beginnings and endings. It seems the perfect vehicle to set off Next’s 29th season, whipped up lightly enough to not overwhelm an audience, but intellectually proficient and adept enough to knowingly raise the stakes regarding human existence. What goes missing, strangely, is the human connection–one of those little ineffable things that make human life worth living.

I say “strangely” because connection is precisely what the lead male character, Jules (John Stokvis) wants and what he expects to attain with Jo (Kelly O’Sullivan)—but under extreme duress. What makes Jules, a marine biologist, less like a thoroughly evil villain and more “the nutty professor” is that he commits his crimes on the pretense of saving the human race from extinction. He has calculated that a comet of unknown origin will strike the earth, extinguishing all life, and he needs a female companion with which to reset human existence.

In order to establish credibility for his dry, purely scientific motivations, a joke is pounded home that Jules is “a homosexual.” The impregnation of Jo, the jaded, world-weary journalism major Jules lures to his lab via craigslist, could take place by “intensive coupling” or by more antiseptic means. That is if Jo would allow that to happen—which, understandably she doesn’t. Instead, she feels compelled to hurl herself tens of thousands of times against the force-field reinforced lab door, by which they are both imprisoned once the comet strikes.

While her sentiments are understandable, this component strains credulity the most, since there really is only so much electroshock that a straight girl can take.

The cast executes this farce with precision and verve. Its rapid-fire, whip-smart dialogue encompasses everything from modern dating and sexuality to the random chance to the rationales of hope pitted against despair or disillusionment. Perhaps the most brilliant exposition of Nachtrieb’s powers is the full-on rant that bursts forth from Jules, exasperated with Jo’s unrelenting, snarky pessimism. Stokvis delivers it with an almost joyful fury.

BOOM 2 BOOM 1-1

Finally, the audience is further distanced from the play when it is revealed to be a set piece within a futuristic museum. Directed by Barbara (Shannon Hoag), the museum piece’s curator, the play’s themes are further filtered and commented upon, while sprinkled generously with her complaints about the museum’s management.

Hoag delivers the strongest comic performance of the evening as Barbara and her line, “I wish I had more control,” is probably the play’s quintessential through-line. Layers upon layers of control issues run throughout the play, regarding the characters, humanity’s fight for survival–hell, even each character’s individual struggle for personal vindication is madly fraught with control issues.

BOOM 3 However, even if one manages to gain some control and by that control procure survival, there is still no guarantee of the quality of outcomes.

For instance, you can make people do things, but you cannot make them want to do them. It is that which makes the moment of connection between Jules and Jo so forced and without credibility, even in a farce like this one. Certainly, there’s such a thing as Stockholm syndrome, wherein a hostage ultimately becomes loyal and emotionally attached to the abductor. But attachment, loyalty, romance or connection that is not freely given lacks all savor, especially in a comedy.

Prior to the comet destroying everything, both Jules and Jo lament, in their own ways, the lack of human connection in their contemporary lives. This may be their only common bond. Yet if there is no real future for human connection, at least as represented by these characters, why should we care, not just if they will go on, but also if they have lived at all?

 Rating: ««½

 

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