With his pioneering work of psychological realism, Hedda Gabler, produced in 1890, Henrik Ibsen created the first post-modern female anti-hero. The play still retains its intrinsic power, although problems of translation and style can trip up contemporary productions. Happily, this production is firmly afoot.
Late Victorian social conventions force the intelligent, spoiled and amoral Hedda into the unwanted role of wife and, possibly, mother-to-be. Married for six months to a conventionally good man with career prospects, she abhors his touch and yearns for escape. Yet Hedda herself is too convention-bound and proud of her social standing ( her father was a general ) to risk the scandal that might win her freedom.
Instead, she seeks to seize control of her destiny by exerting power over the life of others. A set of melodramatic circumstances—Ibsen was not entirely removed from 19th Century theater—allow her to manipulate a troubled former lover, Eilert Lovborg, into what Hedda believes will be a romantic act of self-sacrifice. When this illusion is dashed, and Hedda finds herself obligated to venal Judge Brack, she kills herself.
Director and adapter Doug Hughes stands astride both the 19th and 21st Centuries with this production. His crisp, modern ( but never idiomatic ) English-language script eliminates formalities and circumlocutions that riddle some versions, while the semi-abstract scenic design ( by Neil Patel ) sparely references classicism with its symmetrical lines, footlights and elegant furnishings, yet also suggests timeless modernity with its uncluttered space and neutral tones. As lit by Michael Chybowski, the cream-and-overglazed-gold walls are warm and roseate in the first act, and distinctly cool and sterile in the second. This is good stuff.
As Hedda, Steppenwolf ensemble member Martha Plimpton—her face a white pallor—is not satisfied to be languidly bored. She is a woman of barely-repressed frenzy behind a gracious, graceful facade of cool allure. As Judge Brack, ensemble member Tom Irwin is effortlessly on top of his game ( as always ) , so casually and charmingly crude. Ensemble member Tim Hopper as Lovborg is overwrought but sexy ( he's underused as a leading man, which is what he is ) , looking like Jesus in a broadcloth coat ( period-perfect costumes in subdued colors by Catherine Zuber ) . Amy J. Carle as Mrs. Elvsted and Matthew Sussman as Hedda's husband, Tessman, give strong performances in difficult roles that make them story devices more than characters.
Expressionistic in his use of tableaux, blackouts, strongly angled lighting and shadows, Hughes makes this an intentionally theatrical production; one almost sculptural in its visual effect. The strong performances still have room to grow and need to, if this production is to realize its full emotional potential with acting that stands up completely to its strong visual impact.