THE 1041C Theater Reviews

As I crept down the spiraling path to the stairs leading to the theater, I felt every step in the throbbing vein at the side of my head and behind both eyes. I hugged the walls for dear life, pressing slowly but steadily towards the seat that would hold my fate for the next hour and fifteen minutes. As I lowered myself slowly into the plush cushion, my vision blurred and pulses of pain shot through my entire head. I closed my eyes for a few minutes, unable to sleep as I gasped for air, stomach churning and head pounding. And that’s when the pain started; a fat man on stage asked for quiet and The Dollhouse began.

I’ve read The Dollhouse in high school before, so I already knew the outcome of the play before it began. The written version of the play is actually very good; I even chose it in AP English as the topic for a research paper I wrote. The theatrical play put on by Baruch was very good, although I felt that it was not up to snuff with what I previously had read. I don’t know if it was because I had a headache that felt like someone was hitting the back of my head constantly with a baseball bat or because of any other external factors that skewed my perception, but I did not enjoy this play as much as I could have.

To be fair, I’ll start with the most obvious thing that Baruch actually got right this time around; the actors. Besides the fact that Torvald Helmer looked like Jason Stratham from the Transporter movies, every one of the actors fit the character type they played. I wouldn’t be surprised if the actress who played Nora was actually some previously oppressed and now empowered woman, or if the actor who played Nils Krogstad was actually some spiteful and desperate creep. The casting crew must have looked through a neighborhood pedophile watch list for Krogstad; the man had the perfect look for the role. However, I do have an issue with Anne-Marie, the “nanny” of the play. She must have been the first female nanny in history to have male facial features, a male body structure, and a male voice; in fact I wouldn’t be shocked at all if “Anne-Marie” actually turned out to be a man. And it didn’t take much detective work to figure out that she was a man, which brings me to wonder how hard it could possibly have be to find someone without a penis to play the role of a female nanny if the time was taken to find someone to play Krogstad who looked like he had about twenty child molestation and sexual predatory charges on his criminal record.

As for the acting, Torvald Helmer was less domineering and fatherly than he should have been and had more of the childish aspects that Nora was supposed to have. Even when he got angry at or “reprimanded” Nora he seemed to do it out of some immature need to throw a tamper tantrum to maintain power, while it was clear from the very beginning that Nora was just pretending to be naive and childish. And seeing as the best choice for a female role was a man, I think that the “nanny” could have put much more emotion into his acting even if he had such an emasculating job. The only two good actors on the cast played Krogstad and Kristine, Kristine was clearly portrayed as a quiet but independent woman who knew what she wanted in life and Krogstad was obviously a broken hearted man who’s desperation led him to bring his pain upon others.

I think what turned me off the most about this play was the opting out of several important characters and the “nanny’s” interaction with the audience. What was most blatantly missing was Dr. Rank, who was supposed to play a huge influence over Nora. I guess one can be understanding of this due to the lack of time, but seeing as the production cut out many important parts of the play I think it would have been possible to fit in the doctor, for whatever miniscule time allowed. And the nanny who also doubled as narrator was in my opinion, a bit of a clown. For someone watching from the audience with a pounding headache, the last thing you want to hear is a cynical fat man playing the role of a female complaining to you about the lack of “audience participation” and about the people falling asleep. I of course, was wide-awake the whole time, something I regret after hearing his sardonic drivel.

When the play ended, I stood up slowly. The ground shook once more, and I reached over to lean on a friend’s shoulder. I turned to take one last fleeting glimpse of Kristine Linde’s voluptuous breasts, imprinted them into my memory, and turned to the task of conquering the steps to the outside world. I had survived the pain. I had survived.