zombies
by Douglas Messerli
Henrik Ibsen Ghosts, adapted by Richard
Eyre / directed by Bart DeLorenzo, Los Angeles, Odyssey Theatre Ensemble / the
performance I attended was on September 18, 2022
As director Bart DeLorenzo writes in his short
introduction to the program for the current production of Henrik Ibsen’s Ghosts,
now running through October 23rd at the Odyssey Theatre Ensemble:
“I feel that 2022 is a kind of ‘after’ moment.
Like we’re crawling out of the wreckage and we can finally look around at all
the damaged, collapsed structures that have never supported what we want out of
our world. And we can maybe see more clearly how we’re continuing to hurt each
other and how we might progress. Like Oswald in the play, we’re asking the past,
”What kind of life have you given me? And as we rethink and remake our world,
maybe we can begin differently.”
To
me, at least, appears that these days we are only digging in deeper into our
own ghosts, haunting our own horrible pasts. The central subjects of Ibsen’s
1881 play read like headline banners of our tabloids and our entertainment news
stations—as translator Richard Eyre reiterates them: the problems and effects
of patriarchy and class distinctions, free love, prostitution, religious
hypocrisy, heredity, incest, and euthanasia.
These obviously, were subjects that got Ibsen’s play Gengangere rejected
for production by nearly all Scandinavian theaters—the play had its premier
with a Danish touring group in Chicago in 1882—performed finally in Norway in
1883. Even the King of Sweden told Ibsen that it was not a good play. It was
banned in England, just as today books with far lesser controversial subjects
are being banned from libraries and schools all over the US.
Manders dismisses the books even if he has never read them, and equally
mocks the free lives of the Bohemian artists with whom Oswald has been living,
without apparently having been to Paris. Oswald angrily defends the open
relationships of his Parisian friends suggesting that they live more loving
relationships with their unmarried women and bastard children than almost
anyone he knows in the provincial Norwegian world from which he has come. And
his mother argues that his views are no different from her own, an even more
amazing revelation for the pastor who is about to spend a day and long night
being shocked by the truths that are paraded before him.
No sooner has he finished his flustered conversation with Oswald than he
brings up Helene Alving’s own past, which began soon after her marriage to the
so-called “Captain” when she attempted to leave him, visiting her then youthful
friend Manders, a young seminary student at the time whom she believed she
loved him, to confess how her arranged marriage to Alving was simply untenable
given his notorious drunkenness and womanizing.
Manders is proud to have refused temptation having sent her back to her
husband, convinced now that she is about to dedicate a newly built orphanage on
her own land in memory of her husband, that it’s all been for the best.
But Ibsen takes the opportunity, the long day before that dedicational
ceremony, to allow Helene to catch him up on the facts, since he has dared not
visit her since her “disgraceful” attempt to escape the marriage. In fact, so
Helene reveals, the marriage did not improve, but merely worsened, Alving’s
drunkenness and personal abuse of her increasing. Even his affairs grew more
licentious as he nightly bedded her own maid, Johanna, who bore his daughter,
the current maid of Helene’s household, Regina Engstrand (Viva Hassis Gentes).
That fact even further inculpates Manders who, through Jacob Engstrand’s (J.
Stephen Brantley) lies—he who is currently the head carpenter of the
orphanage—has confirmed by his own signature Regina into the church registry as
Jacob’s legal daughter.
Helene further reveals that it was not her husband who developed their
land, making them rich, but she herself who usurped the duties he had
abandoned, through intelligence and fortitude developing her farmstead into a
source of income so that she can now spend precisely what was left of her
husband’s estate on the false memorial of the orphanage, while leaving her own
monies to her son at her death.
Once Ibsen has established his feminist heroine, one might have thought
he could rest in his dramatic revelation of the mean and narrow-thinking
patriarchal societies of provincial Norway. But the playwright does not at all
rest on his abilities to demonstrate the rotten foundations of the lives of
wives and children such as Helene and Oswald, but turns the table, so to speak,
to show us even more startlingly how a strong-willed woman like Helene and even
a free-thinker like Oswald are both facilitators and victims of such closed-off
worlds.
Indeed, it is Ibsen’s remarkable analyses of how hurt and revengeful
women such as Helene help create the worlds in which men like her husband
attempt to escape, and how both of them working together help to pass on their
own dreadful failures to their children that transform this play into statement
of global indignation. In this case, as nearly anyone who has even heard of
this play knows, passing on deadly syphilis to Oswald, forced his visit not
because he necessarily wanted to return to the barren and utterly boring wilds
of small town in Norway but because of what the doctor has described as “the
softening of his brain.”
Ghosts are truly everywhere in Helene Alving’s house, the ghosts of her
own loves and those she has not permitted. But even that word “ghosts,” which
Ibsen himself found as an unsuitable translation of “gengangere” which, as Eyre
points out, literally means “a thing that walks again,” is far too romantic to
convey the horror that both wife and son discover within themselves. Perhaps we
should use the word “zombie,” that suddenly popular demon of our own time, to
describe the specters of this work which are not afraid to devour the bodies of
their own flesh and kind.
Even Oswald must eventually admit that he is repeating his father’s life
with his temporary escape in alcohol and races around the table with Regina,
although at least he recognizes that only she might be strong enough to
finally, when things get really bad, to jab the syringe of morphine into his
veins (in this play version, alas, the morphine comes in pills, which in fact
is easier to swallow by oneself than by the force of another as we witness in
the last scene). What Frau Alving and even Ibsen won’t admit is that her son’s
syphilis could not be inherited from Oswald’s father except through a sore in
her vaginal channel upon his conception—unless it was immaculate.
The trio of actors, Gray, Sherman, and Barlas, do a credible job of
re-creating Ibsen’s house of horrors despite the fact that, at times, Richard
Eyre’s somewhat rambunctious updating of the former staid British translations
and his own devouring of a great deal of the poetry of the original.
For
the most part scenic designer Frederica Nascimento did a decent job of
condensing three separate rooms, living room, dining room, and bedroom onto one
stage. But I cannot imagine what a series of boxes full
of a jumble of objects spread out upon apron of the set might signify. I
suspect it is meant to represent Captain Alving’s old mementos packed up and
perhaps ready to be sent off to the orphanage when it opens. Clearly, it is
meant to represent further aspects of the ghostly presences that surround
Helene and her son. But it still creates almost a confusing blockade between
the actors and the audience, the closeness of which is one of the delights of
the Odyssey stages.
And finally, do we really need an upside down hanging symbol of the
orphanage building ready to come crashing down when it all catches on fire and
is ready to be destroyed—without insurance of course? To me it merely served as
yet another scenic intrusion to an already very busy set and series of actions
as they fight the fire return and leave the house.
But these are minor cavils in what otherwise was a most commendable
production of play that seems suddenly very necessary, as DeLorenzo hints, for
our own time.
Los Angeles, September 19, 2022
Reprinted from USTheater, Opera, and
Performance (September 2022).
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