New Life for 'The Wild Duck' at Single Carrot Theatre

 

Single Carrot Theatre's production of The Wild Duck, by Henrik Ibsen, opened this past weekend at Load of Fun, and a part of me is tempted to condense this review into three simple words: Go see it.  To do that, however, would be an injustice to the first-rate cast and crew breathing new life into this masterpiece of the modern theatre.  It is their triumph as well as Ibsen's.

First, some context.  If you're familiar with only one of Ibsen's plays, chances are it's A Doll's House, which seems to be taught in every high school English class in the country.  Ibsen wrote A Doll's House in 1879, and its famous ending---in which a young woman walks out on her husband and children to live life on her own terms---scandalized a great many moralizing Norwegians.  Ibsen responded with another masterpiece, Ghosts, in which he dramatized the tragic consequences of succumbing to conventional morality and remaining in an unhealthy marriage.  Naturally, Ghosts scandalized people even more.

One can hear the murmurs of these eternal busybodies beneath every line Ibsen wrote.  And in The Wild Duck---written three years after Ghosts and five years after A Doll's House-Ibsen turned his pen against them.  In doing so, he made his strongest argument yet that the relationship between a husband and a wife is nobody's business but their own.

The marriage between Hjalmar and Gina Ekdal is far from perfect.  But then, Hjalmar and Gina are hardly perfect themselves.  He is complacent and soft and prone to self-pity, the kind of man to whom praise has always come more easily than accomplishment.  She has kept from him a secret about her past that, if revealed, would taint everything he holds dear about their relationship.

For all that, the modest life they share---though held together at least partly by deceit (both to themselves and to each other)---satisfies them.  Their home is cramped but cozy, and they seem genuinely fond of each other.  Best of all is their precocious young daughter, Hedvig, whose only fault is that she loves them both absolutely and uncritically.

Their apparent happiness is first challenged and finally attacked by Gregers Werle, a childhood friend of Hjalmar's whose self-proclaimed "mission" in life---to confront others with their illusions, that they might rebuild their lives on more certain ground---seems motivated more by his own self-hatred than by any nobler claims to conscience.  Werle proclaims the atmosphere in the Ekdal home "poisoned" by lies, and the remainder of the play sorts through the deadly fallout.  Such is Ibsen's skill that, by play's end, you are convinced Werle is a monster ... and equally convinced he was right.

This is especially true when Werle is played by a sensitive actor such as Nathan Cooper, who brings a fierce intensity to the role.  Cooper doesn't so much walk across the stage as glide above it---his upper body never quite seems to inhabit the same plane as his lower, and the effect, combined with his wild eyes and only barely tamed hair, is of a man possessed, though by demons of his own making.  Werle is a man who can insist, with total sincerity, "I meant all for the best," and you find yourself more chilled than if his purpose were merely destructive.  If such suffering comes from good intentions---Werle calls them "ideals"---then what remains to live for?  We tell ourselves we can identify the obvious villains and so avoid them---what do we do when they come to us in the guise of friendship?

Cooper's performance is so compelling because he never lets us forget that Werle loves the Ekdals and wants desperately to see them happy.  His scenes with Christine Demuth, who plays Hedvig, are particularly touching because their characters share such similarities---Hedvig has the soul of a poet, and in a better world the quixotic Werle might have been the tutor so glaringly absent from her parents' prosaic lives.  In this world, unfortunately, he can only be a curse.  That Demuth so fully inhabits this wondrous child whose life force is so strong makes Werle's meddling all the more unforgivable.

Yet miraculously, we are left with the hope that forgiveness is possible, even for Werle.  Much of this hope comes from Giti Jabaily's beautiful portrayal of Gina, who sees through Werle immediately, begs her husband to stay away from him, and would be completely within her rights to spit in his face ... or worse.  That she does not do this is partly due to her unfailing practicality---after all, what good would come of it?  Mostly, though, it is because---as we only gradually realize from Jabaily's layered performance---she is the most emotionally developed, admirable person onstage.

As Hjalmar, Aldo Pantoja turns every infuriating quirk into something endearing---the self-satisfied grin as he relates a flattering anecdote, the quick bursts of temper that just as quickly fizzle into nothing, the eagerness to set aside work for play.  We never question why Gina should care for him or Hedvig adore him---he is at heart a sentimental, easily satisfied boy of a man, and when he gathers his family around him and plays for them a quiet melody on his flute, we see him clearly through their loving eyes.

What is somewhat less clear is why the uncompromising Werle has so much faith in him, and it is this subtler question that Pantoja fails to answer.  Much as I liked Hjalmar, I never felt drawn to him, and was unconvinced that anyone more sophisticated than a child would think him capable of something extraordinary.  (Of course, on some level, Werle is no more sophisticated than Hedvig.)  I'm not entirely sure this isn't a flaw in the play---for that matter, the flaw might be in my reading of the play---but either way, I left this production with the sense that I had missed something crucial about Hjalmar.

I would be remiss not to mention Michael Salconi's scene-stealing turn as Hjalmar's father, whose makeshift wildlife preserve in the Ekdal's attic houses rabbits, chickens, and the eponymous wild duck.  Old Ekdal spent two years in prison for mistakes that may not have been his, and much of the play's dialogue is concerned with how this shame has crippled both father and son.  Yet Salconi's wry performance suggests depths of strength in the old man, and for all the laughs he earns, his is ultimately one of the most dignified presences onstage.  Elliott Rauh is also very effective as a doctor whose cynical philosophy of human nature is at odds with Werle's ... and with his own warm heart.

Director J. Buck Jabaily is generally content to remain in the background.  I mean this in the best possible way---for all its universal qualities, The Wild Duck is rooted in a very specific time and place that is little improved by conceptual ornamentation.  Jabaily successfully evokes this world (with the assistance of period costumes by Emily Kallay, a flexible set design by Joey Bromfield, and lovely incidental music by Kevin MacLeod); he coaxes some brilliant performances from his actors, and is confident enough in his vision to allow audience members to make up our own minds.

Only rarely does Jabaily the Director intrude on this delicately balanced world.  The servants' gossip that opens the play occurs offstage---we hear the speakers only as disembodied voices, a choice that becomes all the more curious when Salconi enters as Old Ekdal and plays a scene with them.  Jabaily also tacks onto the opening several extended bits of "automation"---including a bowl of punch that is lowered (very slowly) onto a table from the rafters.  Such business only distracts from the more important bits of exposition we are trying to piece together.  The ending comes to a similar halt as several of the leads drop out of character in order to execute a gratuitous set change. 

In these moments, Jabaily seems to be striving for a depersonalized, almost ritualistic quality that is at odds with the realistic style that dominates the play.  It is a shame such "grace" notes muddle Jabaily's otherwise fine work, for without them we are left, quite simply, with one of the best productions of the year, and it is on this simple note that I shall end where I begun: Go see it.

The Wild Duck is playing at Single Carrot Theatre, located at 120 W. North Avenue in Baltimore, on Thursdays, Fridays and Saturdays at 7:30 PM, and Sundays at 2:30 PM, through May 24^th. Tickets are $10-$15. For more information, visit www.singlecarrot.com or call 443-844-9253.

To post a comment, you must register and login.