The Lehman Trilogy on the West End: Incredible Acting in an Early Draft Playby Randi / June 13, 2019It’s Theatre Tuesday! Today’s show is Death of a Salesman, playing at London’s Young Vic until July 13.
We’ve had quite the run of Arthur Miller plays lately. After this year’s decent The American Clock and meh All My Sons, it’s time for the most famous of them all, Death of a Salesman. DOAS was never my favorite play, maybe because I don’t like death, maybe because it’s so depressing, maybe because being forced to dissect it as a teenager and having my critique of ‘how can Arthur write all these plays and never once mention that he was married to Marilyn Monroe?’ dismissed was fairly annoying, but it is a classic. I guess I’m supposed to say ‘it’s a classic for a reason’, even though that’s such a clichéd line, but it’s true. More than Miller’s other plays, and more than most plays, DOAS pays attention to an ordinary man, Willy Loman, and thereby ‘the’ ordinary man, with all his frustratingly relatable problems and failures and bad luck. Willy’s wife Linda famously states at one point that her husband is not a great man or the finest character, but he’s a human being. And that’s why “attention must finally be paid to such a person.” Her line states the reason for this play’s longevity, and why it’s still worthwhile.
In this riveting and heartbreaking production from Marianne Elliott (responsible for the gender-swapped Company) and Miranda Cromwell, the Loman family is now black, which adds a deeper sense of suffering to the already sympathetic family’s troubles. Instead of seeing all of Willy’s tribulations and failures as the result of unfair, terrible luck, there’s the hint that it’s also the result of racist treatment, which today feels a lot more compelling than feeling sorry for yet another white man. But the universal nature of his collapse remains prominent, with this story of an average man’s average problems continuing to engross audiences. Few other plays more successfully show that you don’t need magical plots or far-fetched characters to achieve magic in the theatre, as the longevity of DOAS shows it’s enough to pay due attention to real life.
Those of you more familiar with the play are probably like “average problems, what?” and yes, he is losing his mind and he does die (spoiler) (in the title) because of this not-very-hum-drum problem, but that’s not the most striking aspect of Willy’s plight. His daily shortcomings and his ordinary mediocrity and his unremarkable disappointments are what have kept his story at the pinnacle of theatre for so many decades. And in Wendell Pierce’s shattering performance, that’s what hits hardest, how Willy is a pitiable but common man, one that everyone probably knows in real life. This is a huge feat from Pierce considering how impressive his portrayal of the mental breakdown was throughout the show. His ticks and losses of concentration build subtly, making you more and more uncomfortable and more and more anxious about this poor man. Pierce gives an incredible performance, the kind where you really can’t understand how he can put himself through all that 8 times a week.
Equally great is Sharon D. Clarke as his wife Linda, which is no surprise since Sharon D. Clarke is great in everything. Her delivery of the aforementioned famous summary of the play reverberated through the room with its significance. She made a relatively small role feel much larger, and any excuse to hear her sing or even hum, as she does a few times, is welcome. As for Biff and Happy, who usually bother me to no end, Arinze Kene and Martins Imhangbe made them come alive. The family’s story was best told through Willy’s flashbacks, shown brilliantly here with slideshow clicks and flashes to represent Willy’s memories taking over the forefront of his mind. This bit of directing was genius.
The only time the show fell really flat (an accomplishment in its 3 hour length) was in the Act II bar scene, when the Loman men meet a few women and flirt with them. Everything about this scene felt kind of amateur and off, mainly because there’s only so far that basic slinking around with an ‘ooh aren’t I gorgeous’ gaze can take you. Aside from that, the rest of the cast and really the rest of the show makes for probably the best production of this classic play you can see.
INFORMATION
The Young Vic run is sold-out, but you can try for rush tickets or cancellations. As is the annoying as all get-out Young Vic tradition, the shows start late as they fill all the empty seats with people from the cancellation line. Otherwise, the play is transferring to the Piccadilly Theatre (current home to The Lehman Trilogy) on October 24, 2019 until January 4, 2020 so you can buy tickets for that run, although I fear the power of the intimate, small theatre will be missed there.
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Race Like You’re a Contestant on ‘Race to Bachelor Island’ to See the Hilarious ‘Tootsie’
It’s Theatre Tuesday! Remember that’s a thing we’ve added to Theatre Thursday because of ALL THE THEATRE. Today’s show is Tootsie, currently playing at Broadway’s Marquis Theatre (the one in the hotel).
Man alive, I did NOT expect to love Tootsie as much as I did. I went in with low expectations because I heard that David Yazbek’s score wasn’t great (considering his previous effort, the genius The Band’s Visit, won the Tony (all the Tonys) last year, the bar was high) and because there is so much (undeserved) controversy around it (we will get there). But, because of the great performances across the board, the very decent score (low expectations really work!), and the forking HILARIOUS book by Robert Horn, we really enjoyed this gem of a show.
If you aren’t familiar with the movie Tootsie, it’s a 1982 Columbia Pictures film starring Dustin Hoffman – as it actually says on the musical’s actual official billing in the Playbill. How much shit did Hoffman’s lawyers stir up with the musical’s creative team to get them to add that to the Playbill?! In the movie, Hoffman plays an actor named Michael Dorsey who has burned all his show biz bridges because he’s an asshole, and so to get away from that bad reputation and keep working in the biz, he dresses up like a woman (with the too-close name Dorothy Michaels, like why not just pick JANE MILLER or something) and gets a starring role on a soap opera! What a great idea! It’s so much easier for women to get jobs! No, that’s not the take; it’s just that an asshole of a man wasn’t going to get hired (lol FARCE).
In the musical, Santino Fontana is now the asshole actor Michael Dorsey, but he’s a modern New York theatre actor asshole instead of soaps. Santino is SO GOOD at playing grumpy jerky guys that you still absolutely adore (see, e.g., Greg Serrano on “Crazy Ex-Girlfriend”). When his friend Sandy (and ex-girlfriend, sooo toxic GET AWAY from him girl, live your best life) (played flawlessly by the superb Sarah Stiles) mentions she has an audition coming up for a new musical, Michael decides, ‘hey you know what? I’m going to dress up as a woman, go to this audition instead of one of the hundreds of others happening at the same time in this city, I’m gonna be amazing, win over the producer who is played by the great Julie Halston who as usual is FREAKING HILARIOUS, and get that part and fork over poor Sandy who can’t get a g-d break even though Sarah Stiles is the funniest character actress to be seen on Broadway in literally years and entire masters of arts theses should be written about her performance of “Something’s Gonna Happen”?’
So Michael puts on his best dress, his best country accent, and his worst wig and becomes Dorothy Michaels. I understand using the same names as the movie, but using the same Dorothy lewk as the movie is probably my least favorite part of all of it. It should have been updated for modern times! Dustin Hoffman’s Dorothy looked maybe okay for the 1980s but if someone saw this Dorothy in NYC today they would send her to the Queer Eye guys so fast her head would spin and OFF her wig would fly and everything would be over before it began. That wig is like Mississippi matriarch making pancakes in her apron on a Sunday mixed with Ronald McDonald. Santino deserves a better quality wig, is all I’m saying.
Once Michael/Dorothy gets the part, the ensuing story is a delight. I know I said in my Tony’s roundup that a musical’s book shouldn’t win a Tony just for being funny, but I was SO wrong to think that Robert Horn shouldn’t have been the winner 100%. It’s not just that it’s funny, it’s RIDICULOUSLY FUNNY. And it’s structured well too. The show-within-the-show being a garbage fire of a sequel to Romeo & Juliet is such a silly opportunity for even more laughs.
As everything goes to shit for Michael, it could not be better or more humorously expressed than by Michael’s roommate Jeff (the fantastic Andy Grotelueschen) in his Act II opener, “Jeff Sums it Up”. You know I complain about Act II openers being weak all the time, because they usually are. They have such a big job to do, to bring the audience back into the show after intermission and prove that it was worth coming back for, and they so often fail to deliver. This one was probably one of my favorites. The two men’s comic timing is perfect in this scene, and as Jeff uproariously sings to his friend how “you fucked it up” over and over, you can’t help but cackle. Similar dying of laughter happens in all Jeff’s scenes, especially his Act II scene with Sandy, when the two actors broke. I don’t know if this is a planned break (sometimes that happens!) or if they actually broke character at our performance but either way it was beyond entertaining.
The entire cast was equally funny, though, and what a cast. Throughout most of the show, I kept thinking, “Damn, Tony-winner Michael McGrath is criminally underused as the agent”, but then OUT HE CAME in Act II for a slam dunk of a comedic scene, as Michael (Dorsey, the character, not McGrath) does a Mrs. Doubtfire-at-Bridges-Restaurant style back-and-forth quick-change. After talking to Jeff about his “play writing” and his client, Michael (McGrath, the agent whose name isn’t necessary to know…except literally right now to avoid this Michael confusion) eventually has this amazing turn:
Agent McGrath: (to Michael Dorsey) “Fuck you!” (to Jeff) “And you! Send me your play!”
Jeff: “There is no play.”
Agent McGrath: “Then fuck you too!”
WAS THE BEST.
Honestly, the biggest problem in the show is that Michael doesn’t actually get any of the good songs. Santino absolutely deserved his recent Tony Award for this performance and that’s without really even getting a chance to shine vocally as much as he can, showing off what kind of GODDAMN MAGIC happens when that voice and that acting ability are given a melody to match. The lyrics are generally great – Yazbek can be a lyrical wizard when he wants – but the melodies are rarely their equal. Lilli Cooper as Michael’s love interest also gets a sort-of bad deal, not really getting a chance to shine at all. She’s great, but they had to shoehorn in a show-offy song by having her character perform at a nightclub, which is cheating. But her scenes with Santino are still moving, especially the end. (I LOVE that a musical had the balls to end the show Pippin-style (original version), with an emotional book scene instead of a big song. LOVES IT! Sure they then had the enormous curtain call fiesta but still, it counts.)
My favorite song goes to Sandy, her aforementioned “Something’s Gonna Happen”, which her manic, fragile, crazy character reprises several times to great effect. My favorite line, to give a small example of how great this super-rapid-fire song is:
And everybody smiles
They’ll say it’s good to see ya
But all I’ll see is judges
And they’ll all look like Scalia.
Yazbek’s lyrics in this are a wonder, as is Stiles’s ability to actually remember all the words (so many words) and perform it so incredibly. She is a standout, stealing the show from a whole cast of veritable scene-stealers.
So about that controversy. Tootsie has come under fire for being transphobic, which is a horrible thing to be in a time where trans people are routinely harassed, persecuted, and murdered. But this show has nothing to do with trans issues. It’s a gender-conforming man lying by dressing up as a woman, and being consistently told throughout by level-headed characters that he’s doing a bad thing. It’s always clear that what he is doing is wrong and he’s an asshole for it, especially, as they bring up, when women have a hard enough time getting jobs. Some trans people told me it’s actually offensive to them to even bring up transphobia or gender identity issues because this show has nothing to do with those serious issues, and thinking that a man dressing up as a woman is automatically an LGBTQ issue is ignorant. Also, although we’re laughing throughout this show, the laughs are never coming just because a man is wearing woman’s clothes, like they are sometimes during Mrs. Doubtfire (which, btw, is coming to Broadway soon in musical form too, so I wonder if the backlash to that still-beloved movie will be the same as here). Sure sometimes things happen that are humorous like Michael leaving his Dorothy earrings on, but it’s only funny BECAUSE Michael is a gender-conforming man. If his character was non-gender conforming or trans, then having Dorothy’s earrings on wouldn’t be funny; it wouldn’t be anything. Never in this show is queerness mocked. Even when Cooper’s character thinks she must be also attracted to women since she has feelings for Dorothy, it’s not supposed to be funny; it just shows how much Michael is screwing up by playing with real people’s emotions in this way and lying to everyone about his identity. If anything, the show’s message is that lying about who you really are is wrong. And if you are trans or non-conforming, the whole struggle is being able to be truthful about who you really are!
Suffice it to say, this show is adorable and funny and should be celebrated, not condemned. The cast is doing amazing work and they especially shouldn’t be blamed for any insensitive aspects.
Broadway’s A Doll’s House, Part 2: Here’s What Might Have Happened
Lucas Hnath was just your ordinary boy, spending his days writing about what happened to his favorite characters from various fiction universes after the original work ended. He started with the many Star Trek series, as most writers of fan fiction do, daydreaming scenarios that stayed true to the established canon but existed wholly outside of it. Yet the boy quickly felt that this focus on modern works was stifling his creativity. He tried his hand at the other popular fandoms, from Harry Potter to Game of Thrones, before realizing that his abilities would best be exercised by going back in time. “Hmm,” he thought, twirling his pen that was also a clock, “I wonder if anyone has fanficked up some old plays before.” He looked through the standards, Shaw, O’Neill, Joyce, Miller, before landing on the one that he felt a natural connection with, the Norwegian ‘father of realism’ Henrik Ibsen. Lucas felt particularly drawn to his famous early feminist play “A Doll’s House”, in which a housewife casts aside the suffocating trappings of her anti-feminist 19th century society. “I wonder what happened next,” Lucas thought, and busily got to work. And that’s how writing fanfic became the coolest way to get a play on Broadway.
Okay, I’m just joking about all that, but the critically acclaimed new play “A Doll’s House, Part 2” really is straight up fanfic and I loooooveeee it for that. Like what if that amazing story where Jess and Dean heal each other’s Rory-inflicted wounds by getting together themselves that I found on the Gilmore Girls subreddit was made into its own TV show, that’s kind of what is happening here. But it’s so much better because it’s on Broadway, and I jest but Hnath (I am fully saying the H and it sounds like I’m sneezing I don’t know if that’s right) did a fine job imagining what has become of Nora, the classic dramatic protagonist who first told housewives they didn’t need to be housewives, and Torvald, the husband who inspired a century of names proving that some parents hate their children.
It’s a good thing Ibsen has been dead for 111 years (I looked it up) because fanfic can infringe on an author’s copyright. But instead of getting sued, Hnath is getting rightfully lauded for his creative, engaging new play. Even if Ibsen were alive, I think he would have liked it. It takes place 15 years after the original work ends, when Nora famously decides she can no longer stand conforming to the strict rules for her gender and being treated like a doll so she leaves her husband and three children with a slam of the door. I saw Part 2 last week with my brother, who did not know the original work, while I’ve seen the original performed a bunch of times. And as soon as brother got over the excitement of seeing Frances McDormand and Joel Coen sitting across the way from us (just kidding he didn’t), he was fine, because honestly what I explained about the original plot in the previous sentence is all you need to know going in. I mean I don’t actually remember much else anyway so as long as you know ‘old timey gender roles, fed up wife, left her husband and children at the end,’ you’re good.
After that powerful ending of the original, what would bring Nora back to her family? How long would it take before she returned? As Part 2 opens, we repeatedly get the answer to the latter question – “Fifteen years!” the maid Anne Marie (Jayne Houdyshell, HILARIOUS all caps necessary) repeatedly shouts! “Fifteen years,” Nora (Laurie Metcalf) repeatedly repeats. The answer to the former question takes a little more prodding, as first Nora wants Anne Marie to gush over how good she looks, in her super expensive-looking gown and her all not-being-dead state, which is a surprise as the family, and the town, it turns out, believed she died because what woman could take care of herself?! Metcalf, who gave one of the best theatrical performances I ever saw in “Long Day’s Journey Into Night” several years back, is completely different here, loud and confident but with a certain unnaturalness in her tone and behavior that makes you a little uncomfortable, suggesting that Nora is not as comfortable and contented as she wants everyone to think. The subtle uneasiness could easily be ignored by audience members who want to believe that everything worked out for Nora, and could easily be seized upon for those who want her to have suffered. But Nora is very pleased with how her life turned out, because she became an author of famous books for women – under a pen name of course, lest she be ruined – criticizing the sexism of society and condemning the preposterousness (preposterity? preposterity! change approved!) of marriage. Her books have made a huge splash, garnering rabid fans and intense opposition, as enemies of her/fans of traditional society want to unmask the unknown author and destroy her to set an example.
Trying to prevent such destruction is what brings Nora back to this house. She needs a divorce from Torvald – they never got divorced in the 15 years! FIFTEEN YEARS! Anne Marie, who raised Nora and then raised Nora’s kids instead of her own, is incensed that after all this time (FIFTEEN YEARS!) Nora is only returning for selfish reasons, Nora who never actually said goodbye to the loyal Anne Marie. Houdyshell, always good, manages to make the audience absolutely fall over themselves laughing in the first part of the show, which is just Anne Marie and Nora laying out the facts. It’s a good way to easy into the serious dialogue to come, the debate over right and wrong and decency and strength that becomes more muddled the more you say.
So some man in an office somewhere found out a) that Nora is the author of these books and b) that Torvald never divorced her, and he is threatening to expose her and send her to jail. There are several important period-sensitive issues happening here: A woman could only divorce her husband if she proved, basically, that he was a POS, a cheat or some such. But a man could divorce his wife for any reason. So clearly it would be easier for all if Torvald went along and signed the paper and that was that. If he refused and Nora chose to do it herself, she would need to ruin Torvald’s reputation. And to ruin a man again who didn’t really do anything wrong, at least according to society and everything he knew, would be very unfair. As for why the reveal of Nora as the books’ author would be criminal – she had been acting as an unmarried woman, conducting business and signing contracts as only an unmarried woman could back then. If it turned out that she had signed contracts and entered into deals without the consent of her husband and without him taking the lead on the business dealings, it would be a crime. I knowww so wrong.
The plot doesn’t really matter – the play is about Nora reconciling her decision to save herself with how it affected the people in her life. But the legal issues she faces provide an effective template for how these discussions progress. Either way it goes, there are no winners, and the decisions made – which we don’t see; don’t think that this wraps up their story all tidily and dumb – will continue to break this family. And they will continue to question whether Nora was justified in leaving and living her own life. No matter which side you’re on, there’s no right answer to what she should have done because, as we witness through the three conversations, it’s too complicated when humans are involved.
Once you laugh enough with Anne Marie, the door opens again, and it’s Torvald, played by a somber, unsmiling Chris Cooper, whose entrance immediately changes the mood from a comedy to a drama. His solemnity contrasts with Nora’s crass, almost boorish new manner that gives her the freedom to now sit with her legs falling open, to lie about on the floor in her skirts just because she can. Nora explains her situation to Torvald as if it’s the simplest matter in the world with a clear and straightforward solution. But Chris reminds you of the gravity of the situation, even just physically with how heavy his carriage seems. First of all, Torvald’s like, you just straight up left me and our children, never sent a letter or anything, we thought you died and OH YEAH, we told everyone you did, and you ruined me, and now you want more from me? Then he gets to the heart of the matter, which is that regardless of whether he complies with her or not, they still lose and continue to destroy each other. If he refuses to divorce Nora, she will either destroy him publicly to get the divorce or she will go to jail and be ruined herself. If he refuses and she does choose to try for the divorce, then everyone in town will find out that Nora is actually not dead and that Torvald lied about her dying, and so he’d probably lose his job and be ruined. On the other hand, it’s kind of the same hand because if he does divorce her, there would be a public document proving that Nora is still alive, so everyone would again find out that Torvald lied about his wife dying and he would be shunned and probably lose his job and be ruined. No matter how badly we want to commend Nora for trying to live her best life, her actions harmed Torvald and continue to harm him after all this time. Whether he was a bad husband or not, the punishment still seems to outweigh the crime, and Chris’s performance makes you believe that the self-empowerment behind Nora’s choice does not excuse its ramifications.
The uneasiness this dilemma creates in the audience does not go away, because we don’t find out what Torvald decides to do. It would be hard to believe, however, that he decides to give Nora what she wants. If he’s ruined either way, there’s no way he would make it easier for the woman who devastated him. But it just seems so unfair all around. It’ll make you wonder whether Nora should have just stayed, but then you know she would have suffered her whole life in a claustrophobic role. And you feel bad for Torvald, especially since he wasn’t really a bad man.
The complicated nature of it all continues as Chris leaves and Condola Rashad, brilliant, enters. (BTW, the show is structured generally in three bits – Nora’s conversations with Anne Marie, Torvald, and then Emmy, her daughter. Chris Cooper generally gets the same amount of time as the others, yet he is considered and nominated as Leading Actor in a Play. Erm.) Rashad plays Emmy, one of Nora’s three children that she left behind, now all grown up. It is hard to get over how awesome it is that Rashad, a black woman, is playing the daughter of two white people. There’s no contextual reason, no scandal, just that Rashad is a fantastic actress who deserved to be cast and, even though the character of Emmy would be white in the play’s society, it frankly doesn’t matter who is playing her onstage. Like Thomas Jefferson around the corner. It’s a play, and the audience can deal with it, so more productions should stop using the excuse of historical accuracy or whatever for being so damn white. We’re suspending belief anyway that Laurie doesn’t have a sister named Roseanne; we’re fine doing more. Emmy is a smart young woman with no apparent emotional connection to her mother. She did abandon her as a very young child, after all, and Emmy barely remembers her. Since Nora was okay with leaving her and her two sons in the first place, she doesn’t seem to mind that Emmy treats her coolly. But she does mind that Emmy is the exact opposite of the type of woman Nora is trying to empower. Growing up with no semblance of traditional domestic stability, Emmy yearns to marry and fulfill her social duty as an obedient wife, with the house and the kids and the banker husband (actually, her betrothed even works at Torvald’s bank). Naturally, this horrifies Nora, who spends most of the play railing against marriage (sometimes to the applause of the audience, sometimes to nervous laughter, sometimes to shocked silence when she goes too far). But the poised and intelligent Emmy seems almost more empowered and self-assured than Nora, who feels the need to throw her empowerment in everyone’s face. Emmy knows she has the right to a choice, and that her legitimate preference for the traditional option is still a valid choice. Despite her desire to stay in the place that restrictive society wants her to stay in, Emmy exhibits more clarity and self-awareness than her mother, especially when she tells her “Don’t make my wants about your wants.”
Nora thought she’d have an easy time convincing Emmy to convince Torvald to give into her demands, but Emmy swiftly turns the tables and asks Nora to let Torvald be, having done enough to him already. And Emmy doesn’t want the inevitable ruin to affect her happiness, as the scandal surrounding a faked death would probably stop her wedding. Nora, who stormed in at the beginning with conviction about what she needed to accomplish in this visit, is left confused about what to do. She doesn’t want to ruin her daughter’s chance at happiness, despite her opposition to its form. And she likely realizes how Torvald has suffered enough because of her. It’s completely unclear whether she would do what it takes to let her family live happily – for her to let the bad man expose her true identity and probably ruin her – but you get the sense that she at least can’t now do what it takes to actively ruin them. I almost just wrote that it’s literally between a rock and a hard place. It is not but it is very much figuratively that.
Not much really happens in the play’s swift 90 minutes, but these discussions are fascinating. And even though it’s not a perfect show by far, I just love the concept, to take a classic work and think about what happened next. It leaves you haunted by the questions of what’s right and wrong and whether choosing oneself is borne of selfishness or self-love. The situation is entirely unwinnable and really unpleasant to contemplate. Luckily, it’s just fan fiction, so you can continue believing that everyone lived happy lives after Nora first slammed the door. But it’s not as interesting that way.
THEATRE INFO
No intermission means no super long bathroom lines, which is wonderful. It’s quite easy to get rush tickets to this show, but that might change after the Tony Awards since this is up for eight of them. And all four actors are nominated, which is amazing.
Everyone came out of stage door (there are only four actors after all) and signed. Jayne and Condola moved off very quickly, probably thinking that everyone was waiting just for the bigger stars. But Condola came back when someone asked her to (not me I swear) and was super excited and friendly.
Walking towards the subway I saw Art from Orphan Black and screamed. The end.
It’s a good thing Ibsen has been dead for 111 years (I looked it up) because fanfic can infringe on an author’s copyright. But instead of getting sued, Hnath is getting rightfully lauded for his creative, engaging new play. Even if Ibsen were alive, I think he would have liked it. It takes place 15 years after the original work ends, when Nora famously decides she can no longer stand conforming to the strict rules for her gender and being treated like a doll so she leaves her husband and three children with a slam of the door. I saw Part 2 last week with my brother, who did not know the original work, while I’ve seen the original performed a bunch of times. And as soon as brother got over the excitement of seeing Frances McDormand and Joel Coen sitting across the way from us (just kidding he didn’t), he was fine, because honestly what I explained about the original plot in the previous sentence is all you need to know going in. I mean I don’t actually remember much else anyway so as long as you know ‘old timey gender roles, fed up wife, left her husband and children at the end,’ you’re good.
After that powerful ending of the original, what would bring Nora back to her family? How long would it take before she returned? As Part 2 opens, we repeatedly get the answer to the latter question – “Fifteen years!” the maid Anne Marie (Jayne Houdyshell, HILARIOUS all caps necessary) repeatedly shouts! “Fifteen years,” Nora (Laurie Metcalf) repeatedly repeats. The answer to the former question takes a little more prodding, as first Nora wants Anne Marie to gush over how good she looks, in her super expensive-looking gown and her all not-being-dead state, which is a surprise as the family, and the town, it turns out, believed she died because what woman could take care of herself?! Metcalf, who gave one of the best theatrical performances I ever saw in “Long Day’s Journey Into Night” several years back, is completely different here, loud and confident but with a certain unnaturalness in her tone and behavior that makes you a little uncomfortable, suggesting that Nora is not as comfortable and contented as she wants everyone to think. The subtle uneasiness could easily be ignored by audience members who want to believe that everything worked out for Nora, and could easily be seized upon for those who want her to have suffered. But Nora is very pleased with how her life turned out, because she became an author of famous books for women – under a pen name of course, lest she be ruined – criticizing the sexism of society and condemning the preposterousness (preposterity? preposterity! change approved!) of marriage. Her books have made a huge splash, garnering rabid fans and intense opposition, as enemies of her/fans of traditional society want to unmask the unknown author and destroy her to set an example.
Trying to prevent such destruction is what brings Nora back to this house. She needs a divorce from Torvald – they never got divorced in the 15 years! FIFTEEN YEARS! Anne Marie, who raised Nora and then raised Nora’s kids instead of her own, is incensed that after all this time (FIFTEEN YEARS!) Nora is only returning for selfish reasons, Nora who never actually said goodbye to the loyal Anne Marie. Houdyshell, always good, manages to make the audience absolutely fall over themselves laughing in the first part of the show, which is just Anne Marie and Nora laying out the facts. It’s a good way to easy into the serious dialogue to come, the debate over right and wrong and decency and strength that becomes more muddled the more you say.
So some man in an office somewhere found out a) that Nora is the author of these books and b) that Torvald never divorced her, and he is threatening to expose her and send her to jail. There are several important period-sensitive issues happening here: A woman could only divorce her husband if she proved, basically, that he was a POS, a cheat or some such. But a man could divorce his wife for any reason. So clearly it would be easier for all if Torvald went along and signed the paper and that was that. If he refused and Nora chose to do it herself, she would need to ruin Torvald’s reputation. And to ruin a man again who didn’t really do anything wrong, at least according to society and everything he knew, would be very unfair. As for why the reveal of Nora as the books’ author would be criminal – she had been acting as an unmarried woman, conducting business and signing contracts as only an unmarried woman could back then. If it turned out that she had signed contracts and entered into deals without the consent of her husband and without him taking the lead on the business dealings, it would be a crime. I knowww so wrong.
The plot doesn’t really matter – the play is about Nora reconciling her decision to save herself with how it affected the people in her life. But the legal issues she faces provide an effective template for how these discussions progress. Either way it goes, there are no winners, and the decisions made – which we don’t see; don’t think that this wraps up their story all tidily and dumb – will continue to break this family. And they will continue to question whether Nora was justified in leaving and living her own life. No matter which side you’re on, there’s no right answer to what she should have done because, as we witness through the three conversations, it’s too complicated when humans are involved.
Once you laugh enough with Anne Marie, the door opens again, and it’s Torvald, played by a somber, unsmiling Chris Cooper, whose entrance immediately changes the mood from a comedy to a drama. His solemnity contrasts with Nora’s crass, almost boorish new manner that gives her the freedom to now sit with her legs falling open, to lie about on the floor in her skirts just because she can. Nora explains her situation to Torvald as if it’s the simplest matter in the world with a clear and straightforward solution. But Chris reminds you of the gravity of the situation, even just physically with how heavy his carriage seems. First of all, Torvald’s like, you just straight up left me and our children, never sent a letter or anything, we thought you died and OH YEAH, we told everyone you did, and you ruined me, and now you want more from me? Then he gets to the heart of the matter, which is that regardless of whether he complies with her or not, they still lose and continue to destroy each other. If he refuses to divorce Nora, she will either destroy him publicly to get the divorce or she will go to jail and be ruined herself. If he refuses and she does choose to try for the divorce, then everyone in town will find out that Nora is actually not dead and that Torvald lied about her dying, and so he’d probably lose his job and be ruined. On the other hand, it’s kind of the same hand because if he does divorce her, there would be a public document proving that Nora is still alive, so everyone would again find out that Torvald lied about his wife dying and he would be shunned and probably lose his job and be ruined. No matter how badly we want to commend Nora for trying to live her best life, her actions harmed Torvald and continue to harm him after all this time. Whether he was a bad husband or not, the punishment still seems to outweigh the crime, and Chris’s performance makes you believe that the self-empowerment behind Nora’s choice does not excuse its ramifications.
The uneasiness this dilemma creates in the audience does not go away, because we don’t find out what Torvald decides to do. It would be hard to believe, however, that he decides to give Nora what she wants. If he’s ruined either way, there’s no way he would make it easier for the woman who devastated him. But it just seems so unfair all around. It’ll make you wonder whether Nora should have just stayed, but then you know she would have suffered her whole life in a claustrophobic role. And you feel bad for Torvald, especially since he wasn’t really a bad man.
The complicated nature of it all continues as Chris leaves and Condola Rashad, brilliant, enters. (BTW, the show is structured generally in three bits – Nora’s conversations with Anne Marie, Torvald, and then Emmy, her daughter. Chris Cooper generally gets the same amount of time as the others, yet he is considered and nominated as Leading Actor in a Play. Erm.) Rashad plays Emmy, one of Nora’s three children that she left behind, now all grown up. It is hard to get over how awesome it is that Rashad, a black woman, is playing the daughter of two white people. There’s no contextual reason, no scandal, just that Rashad is a fantastic actress who deserved to be cast and, even though the character of Emmy would be white in the play’s society, it frankly doesn’t matter who is playing her onstage. Like Thomas Jefferson around the corner. It’s a play, and the audience can deal with it, so more productions should stop using the excuse of historical accuracy or whatever for being so damn white. We’re suspending belief anyway that Laurie doesn’t have a sister named Roseanne; we’re fine doing more. Emmy is a smart young woman with no apparent emotional connection to her mother. She did abandon her as a very young child, after all, and Emmy barely remembers her. Since Nora was okay with leaving her and her two sons in the first place, she doesn’t seem to mind that Emmy treats her coolly. But she does mind that Emmy is the exact opposite of the type of woman Nora is trying to empower. Growing up with no semblance of traditional domestic stability, Emmy yearns to marry and fulfill her social duty as an obedient wife, with the house and the kids and the banker husband (actually, her betrothed even works at Torvald’s bank). Naturally, this horrifies Nora, who spends most of the play railing against marriage (sometimes to the applause of the audience, sometimes to nervous laughter, sometimes to shocked silence when she goes too far). But the poised and intelligent Emmy seems almost more empowered and self-assured than Nora, who feels the need to throw her empowerment in everyone’s face. Emmy knows she has the right to a choice, and that her legitimate preference for the traditional option is still a valid choice. Despite her desire to stay in the place that restrictive society wants her to stay in, Emmy exhibits more clarity and self-awareness than her mother, especially when she tells her “Don’t make my wants about your wants.”
Nora thought she’d have an easy time convincing Emmy to convince Torvald to give into her demands, but Emmy swiftly turns the tables and asks Nora to let Torvald be, having done enough to him already. And Emmy doesn’t want the inevitable ruin to affect her happiness, as the scandal surrounding a faked death would probably stop her wedding. Nora, who stormed in at the beginning with conviction about what she needed to accomplish in this visit, is left confused about what to do. She doesn’t want to ruin her daughter’s chance at happiness, despite her opposition to its form. And she likely realizes how Torvald has suffered enough because of her. It’s completely unclear whether she would do what it takes to let her family live happily – for her to let the bad man expose her true identity and probably ruin her – but you get the sense that she at least can’t now do what it takes to actively ruin them. I almost just wrote that it’s literally between a rock and a hard place. It is not but it is very much figuratively that.
Not much really happens in the play’s swift 90 minutes, but these discussions are fascinating. And even though it’s not a perfect show by far, I just love the concept, to take a classic work and think about what happened next. It leaves you haunted by the questions of what’s right and wrong and whether choosing oneself is borne of selfishness or self-love. The situation is entirely unwinnable and really unpleasant to contemplate. Luckily, it’s just fan fiction, so you can continue believing that everyone lived happy lives after Nora first slammed the door. But it’s not as interesting that way.
THEATRE INFO
No intermission means no super long bathroom lines, which is wonderful. It’s quite easy to get rush tickets to this show, but that might change after the Tony Awards since this is up for eight of them. And all four actors are nominated, which is amazing.
Everyone came out of stage door (there are only four actors after all) and signed. Jayne and Condola moved off very quickly, probably thinking that everyone was waiting just for the bigger stars. But Condola came back when someone asked her to (not me I swear) and was super excited and friendly.
Walking towards the subway I saw Art from Orphan Black and screamed. The end.
