The Lady from the Sea
Intiman Theatre, 269-1900. Through Sept 22.
At the intermission for the opening night of The Lady from the Sea, an audience member told me that she wished the Intiman could put their resources toward a fully realized naturalistic production of Ibsen, one that would allow the emotions to really hit home. For a moment, I empathized with her–then I imagined sitting through 10 minutes of Ibsen in a traditional box set, and realized I’d run screaming from the theater.
Fortunately for me, director Kate Whoriskey’s production of Ibsen’s symbolic drama is a lush visual spectacle. At the play’s opening, as an old man (Clayton Corzatte) struggles to plant a flag, two young women in identical dresses–Boletta (Dawn Frances) and Hilda (Lisa Strum)–emerge from the stunted doorways of a skewed house to plant gigantic flowers in a courtyard covered with torn paper. When their father, Dr. Wangel (Philip Goodwin), comes home, they present an odd puppet show featuring angelic shadow figures. Throughout the play, the senses are stimulated: Strong washes of yellow, green, or blue light are cast across the stage, drenching scenes in rich color. During an ominous speech, hands emerge from a wall, crumpling more paper and letting it drop to the ground. The costumes range from stylish versions of period outfits to a dress that resembles the tornado from The Wizard of Oz.
The story told by this kaleidoscope of elements centers around Dr. Wangel’s second wife, Ellida (Kristin Flanders), a younger woman who once loved a mysterious sailor, and who has a premonition that the sailor will return to claim her affections; not sure if this is a fear or a hope, Ellida questions whether she really entered into her marriage of her own free will or whether circumstances forced her into it. Interwoven with this main story line are the flirtations and miscommunications of two daughters and a couple of visitors–a former suitor of Ellida’s named Arnholm (Liam Craig) and a would-be sculptor with weak lungs (Michael A. Harding).
A quote from Arthur Miller in the program argues that a play without a past is a mere shadow of a play; Ibsen would doubtless have agreed, for The Lady from the Sea‘s main plot line requires many scenes of exposition. Then, once the bones of the past have been unearthed and picked over, Wangel and Ellida proceed to badger each other with arguments over the nature of responsibility and freedom. This is not to discredit the actors; Goodwin and Flanders tackle the material with integrity and commitment, but their story bogs down in Ibsen’s relentless explication of his themes. In contrast, the subplots display a striking degree of subtlety and vigor, in large part because the troubles and desires of the daughters and visitors are very much in the present. Frances and Strum are particularly superb, bringing out the frustration and hunger of their isolated lives. One short (but sad and insidiously horrifying) scene between Boletta and Arnholm brings out, with sympathy and precision, every thematic concern that Wangel and Ellida spend pages bemoaning.
Aside from its visual splendor, the production’s greatest strength is the discovery of a capricious humor I would never have expected from this stern Norwegian playwright. Again, the daughters and guests get the best lines–particularly adolescent Hilda, whose perspective on the adult activities around her is frequently caustic. Corzatte, as a local jack-of-all-trades, has a charmingly absurd solo scene as a multilingual tour guide.
A few days after seeing this show, its many pleasures grow even richer in my memory, while the parts I sat through patiently, admiring Whoriskey’s compositional skill, no longer interfere with my enjoyment. But I have to wonder: Why, in a production that takes great liberties with staging and casting (the daughters of this Norwegian household are played by African Americans), is there such a fidelity to the text? Ibsen’s subject matter isn’t dated, but at points his handling of it is. Since even a casual search on the Internet turned up two different versions of the entire text, and The Lady from the Sea has been produced many times over the past hundred years and will be produced again, no one is going to be harmed by some trimming; a judicious edit could have made this entire production riveting, instead of an intermittent thrill.