A Doll's House

by Jenny Madorsky

The beauty of live performance is in the changes. No matter how long and hard one rehearses and prepares for a live performance, things will inevitably change once the lights go up and the audience locks in. Breaking character is no longer an option. Any discomfort, unexpected technical mishap, or personal thoughts/feelings have to be directed into the character and the performance.

I became quite aware of this fact on our opening night. As the play began, Nora’s words flowed from my lips with very little effort, but my mind was in a completely different place. My thoughts raced on a completely different wavelength than Nora’s. “Why is that man yawning? Don’t lock eyes with anyone in the audience. Look at empty chairs instead. Is that my friend in the second row? They aren’t laughing. Why is that man yawning? Oh god, what’s my next line? I’m forgetting my gestures!” All the while, my mouth is telling Mrs. Linde about my trip to Italy. There were moments when I would snap focus back to my fellow scene partner, at which point the lines seemed to go blank in my mind and I would need to find Nora again. Luckily, I found it easy to trust my cast mates to pick the scene back up during these moments. After the shock of opening night, once the novelty of having people watching wore off, I found it much easier to keep in the moment on stage and focus on the people in the scene with me, as opposed to the observers past the fourth wall.

Unfortunately, not all live performance changes are under the actor’s control. Technical mishaps are completely unavoidable, and part of the fun. As an actor, one must learn to react to these accidents in a believable way and not let it detract from the progress of the show. On a Saturday performance during Act II, as Mrs. Linde walked through the door to Nora’s exclamation of “There’s something you must help me with, Kristine!” the Christmas tree fell down. Immediately I replied with “You must help me pick up the Christmas tree!” As the two of us struggled to put the tree upright, the audience burst into laughter, knowing full well that this was probably not part of the play, but relieved that it did not stop the show. Another such example happened on the last show, when the doorknob broke off the exit door. As Mrs. Linde existed to the hallway, Torvald declared “Finally, we got rid of her,” only to hear Mrs. Linde’s frantic knocking on the door once again. “Excuse me, Mr. Helmer, it seems your door is broken. I’m afraid I will need to use your other entrance.” She briskly crossed the room and exited in the back to Torvald’s utter annoyance, and again the audience’s relieved laughter.

It is moments like these that help us, as actors, stay in the moment and remember to think on our feet—or more likely on the characters’ feet. It is the thrill of the changes, discoveries, and accidents that make live performance so exciting. On to Act III…

Blog # 1

by Caitlin O’Neill

When Nora and Torvald interact, the power dynamic is startlingly disturbing. The deeply seated power plays prior to Act 3 were rather hazy to me in my first few readings of the play. However, upon watching the exchanges between the actors as they puzzle through the psyches of their respective characters, the misogyny has clarified and morphed into a clear detailing of daily pressures by Torvald, which act to slowly belittle and stagnate Nora. Her opinions cannot find encouragement, or even purchase, in her own home. Rather, all must be in accordance with Torvald, the patriarch.  Socially he has been conditioned to act as he does—as she has been as well. Blame cannot easily be dealt out when the reality of their society has, in large part, led to their present relationship.

Nonetheless, this dynamic is, happily, not the only one put forth in A Doll’s House, because we see a strong contrast to it in the Act 3 reunion of Krogstad and Mrs. Linde, as they create the bounds of a mutually beneficial relationship where both are respected for their contributions. It should be noted though that Mrs. Linde had already undergone her own degradation of sorts through her marriage to a man with monetary prospects which could provide for her family. As Mrs. Linde says, she “sold herself once” (pg 94), and learned she could not ever do so again. Such a lesson undoubtedly accounts for a large portion of her self-assurance and consistent composure, which far outstrip that which is possessed by any other character.  Mrs. Linde parallels quite well with the present time and atmosphere, especially regarding the confidence of women and how it often requires some form of catalyst to crystallize and strengthen.

The general state of society does not produce such confidence in equal measures across gender lines. The aspect in today’s culture I find most disquieting is the way in which women are valued in society—and the similarities between Ibsen’s time and ours. This trailer put things in terribly clear perspective for me.

Gender disparity in powerful positions throughout industries is a direct reflection of how women are portrayed by media. The focus on the physical body of the woman matches the Tarantella scene of A Doll’s House because Nora’s goal is to beguile the men of her life, especially Torvald. Likewise, advertisements portraying women in piecemeal outfits seek to similarly fascinate and trap attention, never utilizing the intelligence behind the pretty face in that pursuit. Marian Wright Edelman, Founder & President of Children’s Defense Fund, said, “You can’t be what you can’t see,” and this is unfortunately too true. Mrs. Linde escapes this norm following her experiences of falling into it, and Nora struggles to slip out from the trap, requiring her breakage from the only life to which she has ever been accustomed. Her final scene challenges me to take a difficult review of the media and messages I consume, and hopefully to begin to recognize the subliminal, as well as overt, messages which seek to stagnate society from gender equity in every plane.