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Films & Filming review
A DOLL'S HOUSE
- Directed by Patrick Garland.
- Produced by Hillard Elkins.
- Screenplay by Christopher Hampton, from the play of the same name
by Henrik Ibsen.
- Director of photography, Arthur Ibbetson.
- Editor, John Glen.
- Music, John Barry.
- Art Director, Elliott Scott.
- An Elkins/Freeward production, distributed by MGM-EMI.
- British. Colour. Cert A. 95 mins.
- Nora Helmer, CLAIRE BLOOM;
- Torvald Helmer, ANTHONY HOPKINS;
- Dr Rank, RALPH RICHARDSON;
- Nib Krogstad, DENHOLM ELLIOTT;
- Mrs Kristine Linde, ANNA MASSEY;
- Anne-Marie, EDITH EVANS;
- Helene, DOROTHY BLATCH.
GORDON GOW
Ibsen’s venerable drama retains a strong enough charge to make us
understand why conservative hackles were raised so furiously when it was
originally staged in the latter part of last century. And equally one
can credit that the recent revival at the New York Playhouse and the London
Criterion has been a clarion call to Women's Liberationists: even in this
present emancipated age there still exist certain males who would bitterly
resent the sort of independence displayed in the final act by Nora Helmer.
My personal sympathies, I must say, are entirely with Nora, not least
because Ibsen loaded the situation in her favour by making the men such
dolts. Even Nils Krogstad is absurdly if credibly ham-fisted about exercising
a hold over Nora to gain security for himself, but at least he is truly
needy, and he did undeniably lend her the money to pay secretly for the
rest cure that saved her husband's health. As for the semi-pathetic Dr
Rank, remaining sexually perky at death's door, he ought to have been
perceptive enough really to come to Nora's aid, instead of leaving that
important task to another woman, obviously better endowed than he for
discerning the apprehension behind the child-wife's smile. And worst of
all, no husband could ever possibly have been more pompous than Torvald
Helmer, especially in his condemnation of the silly little crime that
Nora committed for his very own benefit.
So when Nora eventually tells him off and walks out of the house to learn
about a life that is more worthwhile (after which she might or might not
deign to return) her case is so strong that only the most old-fashioned
boys will rise up in protest.
Yet, as I acknowledge, the pertinence lingers on. A touch of dramatic
vexation lingers too, however, because Nora's trans-mogrification from
meekness to fortitude puts up a dreadful challenge to an actress. If Nora
is able at the ultimate point of departure to conduct such a powerful
verbal onslaught, bringing Torvald to shame, it seems unlikely that the
same woman could have been so foolish about the forging of her dead father's
signature as guarantor for the loan, and also she could hardly have been
the type to make gestures and noises which are supposed to resemble a
squirrel for her husband's mildly kinky gratification. In these matters,
Claire Bloom's Nora fails to persuade me, but she is totally convincing
as the plot develops, dancing the obligatory tarantella with a flourish
while her insides are being eaten away by fear, and burning with courage
for her defiant remarks at the end, establishing a climax that only the
famous echo of the slamming downstairs door can punctuate.
I saw the film soon after the stage production, which had the same director
and producer and adapter and leading actress. On the screen it seems to
me to work even better. There is a minimum of opening-cut: more rooms
to the Helmer residence and some useful glimpses of the children, a habitat
for Krogstad where Mrs Linde can be seen to visit him, and a snowy street
outside. Subtly the close-up is employed to draw every nuance from the
characterisations and the interplay of personalities: the simple method
of cutting close from one face to another across a table has paid off
superbly in that last confrontation between wife and shattered husband.
The supporting cast is keen: Anthony Hopkins cunningly dredges up an element
of pathos for Torvald, Denholm Elliott makes you feel a bit sorry for
Krogstad while at the same time suggesting that he has just crawled out
from under something slimy, and Ralph Richardson gives Rank the old-goat
treatment he deserves but is highly entertaining about it.
IBSEN
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