It's been a long time since I've seen a dramatic production so fully realized. The acting was superb, the script brilliant, and the play proceeded step by inevitable step. There were no "bad guys." In different ways, each character was a prisoner of herself/himself, caught up in a role not of her/his own choosing but impossible to shake, because of the enormous courage/selfishness it would take to accept the self as it was. In the end, in a fit of rage, for only a moment, Torvald revealed himself for what he was, and then desperately tried to patch things up and reassume his role. But everything had changed. Nora could pretend no longer. She was stripped bare, which allowed her to find the courage/selfishness to leave. To find herself. And be unhappy forevermore.
That is the play's central paradox, which rings painfully true to life. To exist, love requires roles, the diminution of self. To exist, self requires selfishness, the diminution of roles. Society chooses the former and wraps its members up in cozy belonging. The individual chooses the latter, to his/her peril.
That pretty well describes my marriage of 30 years. I don't think I am alone in being unable to find the courage/selfishness to walk into the snow drifts.
And that is why this film is profound--and modern. It shook me to my very being.
That is the play's central paradox, which rings painfully true to life. To exist, love requires roles, the diminution of self. To exist, self requires selfishness, the diminution of roles. Society chooses the former and wraps its members up in cozy belonging. The individual chooses the latter, to his/her peril.
That pretty well describes my marriage of 30 years. I don't think I am alone in being unable to find the courage/selfishness to walk into the snow drifts.
And that is why this film is profound--and modern. It shook me to my very being.