Hedda Gabler

Poor Isben. When he created Hedda Gabler, I envision he had passion in his heart. In the new Broadway interpretation, starring the normally luminous Mary Louise Parker, there is some strutting, a hint of fretting, and little more. With theater powerhouse Michael Cerveris on stage, I thought this to be a surefire explosion of talent on stage. Unfortunately the entire production, including some horrid stage direction and irrie sound intrusions, fell flat and lifeless, no Hedda to be found.

Hedda is a woman of stature and society, the town beauty once courted by all the men. She has returned from her Honeymoon in Italy as Mrs. Tesman with her husband; he is hoping to acquire a professorship at the local university. It is clear that she's a woman longing for drama, longing for attention, yet never seemingly satisfied - with her upper-class lodgings, her piano, her choice of husbands. Soon other locals revolve in and out of the Tesman's home - The Judge (Peter Stormare), Mrs. Elvstead (Ana Reeder), and a former suitor, Lövborg (Paul Sparks). Rivalry sparks between Lövborg and Tesman, more over the academic position and their writing talents than over Hedda. And a bit of jealousy roots deeper in Hedda when she finds out that Mrs. Elvstead has developed a very strong bond with Lövborg. What Isben builds is tension, manipulation, dastardly deeds and an explosive ending, yet one might never know that Hedda Gabler in this tepid production.

What was director Ian Rickson thinking? He opens with a reclined Hedda on a sofa, reflected in a body-length mirror overhead, lower half naked and exposed. Why open with a crotch shot? Is it suppose to reflect Hedda as open, comfortable enough in her new world to be this aired? But the play isn't written as such. Or was it to shock? It really was more like a painting, not really shocking. I'm still confused. Then there was the droning and ominous sound intrusion. It was bludgeoning the audience over the ears with a forced sense of foreboding. Can't the director trust the actors and writing enough to get this mood across? I felt a bit insulted; theater crowds are smarter than that. 

Next up on this Titanic ride, the set design. Yep, the actors push around the furniture just like the characters push each other around; we get it. But when an angry gesture, like Tesman throwing a chair to the floor, actually lands with almost no sound, due to the overly padded choice of dining chairs, the motion seems empty. I also think they're still blocking the damn movements during previews; at one point, Cerveris had to crane his head around while seated on the couch, searching for Stormare, The Judge, as he paced around, lost in the background. 

Stormare decided to use some weird accent and his halted speech delivery drove me nuts; like listening to marbles rattle around in someone's mouth. Reeder plays Hedda's female sparing partner, Elvstead, with a mousy quality. Perhaps this was to not outshine Hedda but dialog again points to Hedda's feelings of rival in beauty (Elvstead's beautiful hair comes up more than once) and in masculine affection; both Lovborg and her husband take comfort in Elvstead's arms. 

Another strange stage direction choice was to have The Judge reclined in a comfy chair as he threatens and blackmails Hedda. But this staged Hedda isn't in a vulnerable position, she's standing, leaning over the judge. Why? Such powerful writing gives actors, and the director, the opportunity to frighten the audience, let us feel the mousetrap Hedda has caught herself in. Alas, all I felt was befuddlement. This version of Hedda wouldn't give up, give in, she's poised, upright and proud, looking like she will battle again, find a way to manipulate her way out of such a corner. Those familiar with Isben's play will know this is not the version of Hedda with whom he closes the play. 

While Louise Parker and Sparks introduce their Hedda and Lövborg with reserved calm in Act I building them into more impassioned and outspoken temperaments, hey still hadn't achieved an unbridled power to their actions by play's end. Hedda is a local diva. Isben has Lövborg say her name over and over and over like some obsessed fan, yet this Hedda evokes no such lust or obsession. Where is the girl all the men flocked to be near? Where is the spitfire who likes to provoke men, even if it required shooting at them with her father's pistol? I saw no evidence of such a fire in this Hedda, only smoke rising from a prop gun, soon to disperse and be forgotten, evermore.