When, if ever, will women—and by extension, everyone—be truly free? Keizer Homegrown Theatre asks this question in A Doll’s House, Part 2, by Lucas Hnath, a tense chamber piece that reminds us that the personal is always the political.
Theatre people probably know (or at least know about ) Ibsen’s original A Doll’s House: In 1870s Norway, wife and homemaker Nora Helmer sacrifices her entire personhood to support her husband (Torvald) and family. When she finally realizes that Torvald sees her as nothing more than a toy in a play house, she walks out—abandoning husband, marriage, and her own children. The ending shocked and appalled audiences in 1879, and the play is considered one of the first feminist plays in theatre history.
It helps to have read or seen A Doll’s House, but it is not strictly necessary. A program note from dramaturg Jordan Reid (and I do love a good dramaturg’s note, so kudos to that!) tells you everything you need to know. In Lucas Hnath’s 2017 sequel, Nora returns to her family, fifteen years later. The sequel remains Ibsenesque: a simple, four-handed chamber piece with long, theatrical monologues that spark and flare into moments of passion.
Co-directed by Patricia Wylie (returning from a pandemic exile in Edinburgh) and the inimitable Tom Hewitt, the directing is simple, effective, and to the point. The most dramatic move was a cross from one side of the stage to the other, but in this piece, such a move ratchets the tension.
I was disappointed that local mainstay Robynn Hayek had laryngitis on opening weekend and could not take the role of Anne Marie, the family’s foul-mouthed servant/governess. It was a pleasure, though, to see Jennifer Johnson stepping in with script in hand, who occasionally channeled the late Louise Fletcher in the best way.
Elizabeth Ming plays the grown daughter, Emmy. This is the strongest performance I have yet seen from Ming, in her most mature role to date. While she first appears as a wide-eyed youth, happy to see her prodigal mother, it turns out that she has a backbone of steel. Joe Martin makes Torvald sympathetic, and while he shows the capacity for a great, male anger, he does not go over the top with this.
But of course, the play rises and falls with Cathy Willoughby’s Nora. Willoughby gets the job done in an even-handed sort of way. There are no great highs or lows. Her best scenes are with Torvald; the pair has an explosive chemistry that give the play life. The play itself makes Nora almost a villain, her feminism causing women of all kinds to (nightmare of nightmares!) leave their husbands. The older Nora never becomes the badass that I wanted her to be, but she at last finds her bravery by the end.
A shout out to set painter Brigitte Miller, who gave life and texture to the antique wallpaper, as well as to costumer Loriann Schmidt for period-accurate clothing. Keizer’s space was also looking good with new houselights, and they still have the most comfortable seats in the community.
Lessons I learned from this play: Marriage is hard. Life is much easier when you don’t give a crap what other people think. And in 140 years, things have not changed very much as far as rights for women. As Nora discovered when she left her family and moved into the world, she simply moved from a tiny cage into a larger cage. In the United States in 2023, we still seem determined to regulate and legislate what women of all kinds can do with their bodies, their wardrobes, and their minds. Nora and Keizer dream a new world of freedom: when will we finally make it come to be?
