Beautifully directed by Diana Leblanc with a compelling sense of foreboding atmosphere and absolute realism, and translated by J. Basil Cowlishaw to give the most specific and unmistakable references to Ibsen's theme of venereal disease (without ever mentioning its name), this is perhaps the most effective and affecting production of Ghosts I've seen. Too often the play seems both stuffy and dated, but here it is clearly neither.
Much credit goes to Martha Henry's Mrs. Alving, as impressive a performance of the role as any by the many great ladies of our stage whom I've seen in it, and decidedly less clearly aware of it as a great acting role. Her Mrs. Alving is just as rebellious against small-minded conformity and contemptuous of hypocrisy as others in the role, but she is gentler, kinder and clearly has reached a more secure self-understanding. Her perhaps newfound maturity allows her to show no contempt, but rather, genuine affection toward Pastor Manders for his naive belief in his manipulative follower, Engstrand. Peter Donaldson's Manders is almost touching in that childlike naivety, though he is earnestly forceful in Manders' disapproval of everything he cannot understand. So we are appropriately amused and annoyed by him.
The one weak contribution is Adrienne Gould's as the maid, Regina Engstrand. She rises to Regina's angry realization that the reality of her dreams of becoming Oswald's bride is that she must be his nursemaid, and her scenes with her father are strong. But her general stage deportment and delivery are too local and contemporary and smack of a student's performance.
Gary Reineke's Engstrand is a bit over the top but effective enough. Brian Hamman's handsome young Oswald Alving uses his oddly awkward manner to add to Oswald's vulnerable appeal. But Oswald's famous melodramatic final line, asking his mother to give him the sun, does manage to make very clear that the final stages of syphilis have set in, but isn't permitted its usual spine-chilling horror. Below I'll indicate what I think to be the reason.
Charlotte Dean's rich, beautiful designs are heavy, dark and drab in color enough to underscore Ibsen's hatred of the Norwegian conservative society and punishing climate. Bonnie Beecher's lighting gives them emphasis and manages to make the closing sunshine both warming and menacing. Stephen Woodjett's music seems well suited to the proceedings. So, all in all, a masterful Ghosts. But not a thrilling one.
In any translation, Ghosts can seem melodramatic and old-fashioned as it builds to deliberately jarring curtain lines, like bold-faced exclamation points: "Ghosts!", Mrs. Alving exclaims, seeing Oswald and Regina kissing as she had her husband with Regina's mother. "...it's not insured!", Manders moans about the library burning down, after his insistence that insuring it would show lack of faith in God. "Give me the Sun!", Oswald asks pitifully. In a production so realistic and believable as this one, those moments could be more powerful than stagy. But it seems to me that Leblanc's refined taste as director wouldn't let her give Ibsen's powerful end-lines for each act their usual punch; they seem more true and inevitable in this understated approach but lack some of their necessary theatrical wallop.
