In the cosy living room of a seemingly happy household, Christmas approaches and with it, a reckoning. Years ago, to save the life of her husband Thorvald, Nora Helmer committed a forgery without his knowledge. Now her creditor is standing at her doorstep and promising ruin upon them both. In A Doll’s House, the Oxford Theatre Guild take on one of Henrik Ibsen’s most groundbreaking works, exploring and ultimately breaking the domestic and financial constraints placed upon women at the time. What results is a show that handles this very human drama with grace, nuance and compassion, as well as an enduring relevance that rings clear as a bell.
Our main ensemble is small but perfectly formed. As Thorvald, Ash Harvey expertly conveys the concealed threat underlying his seeming benevolence. Whether jovial, affectionate or enraged, Harvey carries himself like a patriarch. Every touch or embrace he gives Nora feels like an attempt to hold her back. He’s a chauvinist, but in such a believable way; he loves, yes, but his love is possession, not protection. When his anger is piqued, I noticed several audience members visibly jump, and at his most abject, Harvey captures the depths of his loathsome self-interest, a little boy throwing his toy out of the pram. You half expect him to yell, “But I’m such a NICE GUY!”.
Billy Morton as Nils Kronstadt is chillingly ruthless in his intimidation of Nora, his initial gentility making his later outbursts all the more impactful. Morton is playing it every inch the lawyer, his surgical cross-examination transforming the Helmer living room into a witness stand, but in his exchanges with Kristine, Morton belies the vulnerability at Kronstadt’s heart. Kristine herself, played by Ellen Publicover, has a timidity and hesitation that speaks to the resigned path her life has taken, and Ian Nutt as Dr. Rank brings a stoic gallows humour to his part, greeting the reaper with a wry grin.
But Beth Burns as Nora Helmer ties the whole thing together. Over the three acts Burns shifts from Thorvald’s ‘cheerful’ but domesticated songlark to a dignified, self-actualised human being, and the mental toll this takes along the way is visibly gruelling. Watching her deploy her sensuality as her only means of currency, her desperation as the threads holding everything together come unravelled, makes for a powerfully discomfiting viewing experience. At one point Nora remarks “Thorvald hates to see mending and darning”, and she’s right. Thorvald, and men like him, love the pretty finished product, but never acknowledge the work that goes into it. When it comes to the men in her life, Nora is pursued from all sides - even Dr. Rank, arguably the kindest of the lot, still can’t resist making a move on her when he sees his chance. Burns nails the composure women and femme people are forced to maintain to soothe, mollify and keep the peace, and the maddening frustration of that emotional labour.
Stellar as the cast were, there were a few opening night hitches on a production level. The door through which characters made their entrances would often swing open upon closing, which was thankfully taken into account before Nora’s noble exit. The sound effects came off a touch too high volume; the Helmers appear to have the world’s loudest doorbell, and when the front door finally slams shut behind Nora it goes off like a gunshot - for a second I thought the Oxford Theatre Guild had decided on a very dark alternate ending for our heroine. And we don’t necessarily need Nora to hand Thorvald a doll as a final goodbye when Ibsen’s script already does so much to make that subtext text; as a visual metaphor it feels slightly too on the nose.
But the chemistry of this cast is undeniable, their performances grounded and nuanced. It’s dramatic without veering into melodrama, both Thorvald’s chauvinism and Nora’s desperation so upsettingly true to life. We have all probably been or known a Nora in our lives; I hope the many young women in the audience that night took home the crucial message that you deserve to be happy, rather than merely ‘cheerful’.
