James Lugton and Chantelle Jamieson. Photo: Prudence Upton
Joanna Murray-Smith’s A Doll’s House is an adaptation from the Henrik Ibsen classic. Fast forward 150 years, and her version of Nora is shopaholic, well-to-do housewife who might be living in Double Bay or Prahran. The Helmer living room is awash with Christmas decorations and designer carrier bags. Nora (Chantelle Jamieson) is alive with frantic energy, unpacking gifts and chocolates and supervising the position of a large Christmas tree.
Her old friend Kristina (Lizzie Schebesta) arrives unexpectedly. The pair have not seen one another for some years, during which time the now-widowed Kristina has had more than her fair share of troubles. Not to be outdone, designer-clad Nora goes through her own hard times during which she spent her father’s legacy on living the high life with Norvald (James Lugton) in a bid to rescue him from depression. Not sure where their three children were then, but Nora professes to love them deeply and shows Kristina their photographs. And Norvald’s new executive position promises not just peace on Earth but prosperity. As Nora delightedly tells cash-strapped Kristina, they ‘are rolling in money’.
Norvald’s longtime friend and Nora’s secret admirer George (Tim Walter) arrives for a seasonal drink. Kristina is offered a job at Norvald’s bank. Much Christmas celebration ensues; everything is picture perfect. Then, of course, disgruntled bank employee Krogstad (David Soncin) arrives and spoils everything. For Nora, at least. For naughty Nora – as those familiar with Ibsen’s play will know – has obtained money on false pretences, and Krogstad is on to her. He’ll keep quiet about it, but only if Nora makes Norvald give him the job he so desperately needs. Suddenly, Norvald’s trophy wife, his ‘little sparrow’, is in deep trouble. Her deception could cost Norvald his job, and everything that goes with it.
Murray Smith’s script is strong in the writing and in making the themes contemporary. She wants to show that ‘despite the technological, sexual and social revolutions, the fundamentals of intimate human relationships remain the same. Women still long for love and for freedom within the milieu of domestic life, men and women still struggle with the compromises of submitting to the will of another human being, we all still wrestle with our expectations of life and then with the resignation of what we have actually achieved.’
So far, so good. And we still live in a patriarchal society. But the Nora of 1879 faced different challenges to a Nora of 2022. Today’s Nora might regret her choices, but this affluent one still has – and had – choices. Under the assured direction of Mark Kilmurry, Jamieson’s Nora verges on frenzied ditziness, giggling from one champagne to the next even in the face of pending disaster. Her expressions leave us in no doubt as to where her head is: happy, sad, frightened, worried. She gets some good lines. My favourite, after she has spent a heap of money at the shops: ‘If men don’t want women to think practically, then make the world equal.’ The line is delivered lightly. Nora becomes increasingly worried about Krogstad exposing her, but there was little to show that she wanted out of the marriage. She seemed happy with her affluent status quo.
Lugton’s Norvald is highly believable. Like Nora, we have probably all met a version of him. Suave, elegant and assured, there is no trace of the hiccup in his career before he was headhunted back to the top. Immaculately dressed (set and costumes, Veronique Benett), he emerges from his computer and study from time to time to have a cocktail and pay court to his ‘little sparrow. There is no doubt Nora is seen as yet another asset.
Walter imbues his character of George with quiet depth (sometimes at odds with his costume; loved the OTP knitted Christmas sweater) and retains Ibsen’s original character’s sense of humour. George is a doctor (and his ‘patients insist on living, even when they have nothing to live for’) but George knows he is dying. That he has been in love with Nora for years is finally, quietly revealed. And Soncin plays Krogstad well, too. We sense the desperation that underpins his blackmail, the unfairness of it all. The world is not an equal place for him.
As the play progresses, smoothly leaving behind some of the Ibsen original, the subplot of an alliance between Krogstad and Kristina is interesting, moving and a fabulous contrast to the pairing of Nora and Norvald. Schebesta’s pale and neutrally dressed Kristina, now a sort of factotum in the Norvald household, is caring underneath her pragmatism. Not quite as beige as her attire might make her seem.
The denouement is swift and brutal. Lugton’s Norvald delivers his damning diatribe of Nora and all her faults with breathtaking cruelty and ugliness. And then, suddenly, and unseen by the audience, Krogstad retracts his threats. Game over. All can return to where it was. Except Nora, true to Ibsen’s original and now apparently realising her husband’s true character, ups and leaves.
This is where it fell apart for me. I felt, still do feel, enormous sympathy for Ibsen’s Nora. She left because she was completely disillusioned about her Torvald, and there was nothing else for her to do except remain his little, obedient doll. It never occurred to me to damn her. Murray-Smith’s Nora does have choices. They may be proscribed, society may not be perfect and equal, but when Jamieson’s Nora walked out, I thought ‘What about the children? Just like that?’ She is off to find herself, never mind these kids she professes to love. I found it hard to feel sympathy for her.
And as for Norvald? In today’s society, won’t he just move on? Well, yes probably and that may be one of the points Murray Smith is making, but I continue to worry about her Nora.
All that said, there is much to enjoy in this production. You certainly do not have to have seen or know the original to enjoy it.
Until 16 July. Tickets and more information at www.ensemble.com.au
