The following review is courtesy of Jim Bovino, Director of Flaneur Productions

Some thoughts on Mabou Mines’ DollHouse:

In 1878 Henrik Ibsen wrote:

There are two kinds of spiritual laws, two kinds of conscience, one in men and a quite different one in women. They do not understand each other; but the woman is judged in practical life according to the man’s law, as if she were not a woman but a man…. A woman cannot be herself in the society of to-day, which is exclusively a masculine society, with laws written by men

This was written while finishing A Doll’s House, which premiered the following year. Ibsen’s most immediate philosophical and political statement, A Doll’s House dramatized the spiritual and existential destruction of women living within a patriarchal system.

Mabou Mines affirms Ibsen’s original philosophical position, but extends and problematizes it by casting actors of short stature in all of the male roles. What results is a literalized vision of universally arrested development; while outwardly exerting control, the men in this production also suffer under the weight of their own crippled system. They seem either unaware or unwilling to acknowledge their condition of moral and ethical truncation, committed to ritualized power and the status quo as children clinging to mother. Indeed the men in Bruer’s dollhouse seem preoccupied with the womb, suggested by the enveloping red curtains and nursery room set design, fiercely holding on to a sense of security and comfort and infantilized by a dependence on the maternal order of a literally miniaturized world created and maintained by women on their behalf. A row between Nora and Torval early on ends with an enforced silence. Torval then comments on how “ cozy and peaceful” their house is. This refrain is heard throughout the action.

The very pregnant maid Helene telegraphs the status of the inhabitants of this dollhouse as not yet born morally or ethically, and creates a profound dramatic tension through this imminence. When Nora and Torval’s dear friend Dr Rank dies, this tension is somewhat relieved as he is enveloped in Helene’s arms and carried off-stage, perhaps to be finally born. This masterfully sets up the denouement, but in the end it is Nora who is born.

There are moments of intense physicality that become almost slapstick. Rather than resulting in comic effect, it becomes a grotesque physical awkwardness, further literalizing the notion of these people as children not yet adept at their bodies’ mechanics. Nora crawls around the stage, simultaneously reducing herself to her husbands stature and suggesting an inability to manage the demands of her adult body.

This is a production at once grand in its ambition and modest in its scope. Conceptually it attempts to unpack the subtext of Ibsen’s script, literalizing its emotional content while remaining philosophically consistent with the original. The casting of actors of small stature in the roles of oppressors recalls Nietzsche’s assertion that the strong must protect themselves from the weak. When those in positions of power are ethically or morally diminished the result is a general contamination of social conditions. Indeed the small men are still in charge.

The following review is courtesy of Marcus Young, Minneapolis-based artist

Some notes from Friday night’s Mabou Mines DollHouse.

The pianist, a woman, takes a deep solo bow center stage before beginning the overture..odd. Red curtains drip into place portending a large sadness. Be aware a play is starting.

Tall women, small men. A larger-than-life live piano plays for a miniature stage piano. Self-consciously melodramatic acting immediately followed by moments of heartfelt, heart-breaking delivery. It’s all out of proportion and mismatched.

For the first two acts all the quirks are strangely balanced. Punch lines land with light winks. Moods shift as quickly as opening a dollhouse window. The energy was of a three-ring circus. Strong man, fat woman, animal-tamers, jugglers, all coordinated into a soft-shoe dance. Add exaggerated Norwegian accents, cheap physical gags, and a wild dream sequence, and the show was buoyant. If after a long while the game became a little predictable, Maude Mitchell’s emotionally available Nora would come to the rescue. It was her tense and prolonged silence in act two, which we knew was killing her, that stole our hearts for good.

Playing with a dollhouse is inherently clumsy. Furniture moves out of place. Things topple over, but Lee Breuer wants it all to fall apart. Ibsen’s play, however, is neatly structured. Whereas Breuer and cast breathe beautiful, updated life into the play for the first two acts, the last act is burdened with unnecessary responsibility to be serious. The text is sacrificed for spectacle. The soft-shoe goes beyond tarantella and attempts grand opera.

Yes, Henrik Ibsen’s A Doll’s House, with it’s door slam heard around the world, is an important work about women’s independence, so I imagine the director wanted to pull out all the stops for the last ten minutes. That’s probably why the set transformed, came alive and began acting. The music, no longer underscore, took center stage and was acting. The lip sync was acting, the nudity was acting, the pianist was acting, and even the director was acting. The actors’ acting and the text were lost, up against larger and larger theatrical gestures.

Powerful lines like “ I don’t love you anymore” didn’t move me. Torvald asks, “ Where are you going?” Nora responds, “ To take off my costume,” but now the double meanings are gone. The final moments of the show were epic but without emotional intensity and release.

I return to earlier moments in the play. The live piano plays for the actor playing the fake miniature piano. Nora comforts her small Torvald embracing him like a doll. Many times I acknowledged the artifice yet allowed it to play me anyway. There, Breuer and Ibsen were in conversation. The balance was such that I could hear both of them, and they both had good things to say.