The question of What Women Want was answered long ago (by Shakespeare,no less) and the merits of Marriage For Convenience have grown more equivocal with the waning of 19th century Romanticism—all of which should render the arguments in Ibsen's fable of a "settled" wife reconsidering her options accessible to playgoers in 2022. This isn't enough for director Shana Cooper, however, who has embellished Ibsen's 1888 narrative with an abundance of additional motifs, lest the the geographical, chronological and theological distance provided by the 130-plus years since its premiere confuse audiences unfamiliar with the environmental distinctions between the shore of a glacial fjord and coast of a North Sea island, or the significance of a person's eyes changing color with the owner's mood (in fiction, indicative of supernatural influence, but a not uncommon phenomenon in Scandinavian regions).
These additions encompass 1) a new translation by Richard Nelson, commissioned after this Court Theatre production's abrupt postponement in 2020, 2) the conflicted Ellida Wangel's long-lost sweetheart/demon lover/stalker depicted as gender-ambiguous, and 3) group soliloquies conveyed in interpretive dance-like movement mimicking tidal ebb-and-flow.
These measures mostly justify the time and space they take up: Nelson's text, apart from an occasional tin-eared word choice betraying the deadline pressures of its makeover from scratch in a mere two years. Lanky oilskin-clad and treble-voiced Kelli Simpkins presents a Calibanesque allure that, rather than muddying the motive behind Ellida's youthful attraction (though lesbian-tinged adolescent crushes are nowadays acceptable), serves to emphasize the mystery associated with the aqueous netherworld. The kinetic sequences choreographed by Erika Chong Shuch, however, while functioning as a bridging device for scene changes, are more intrusive than integrative on designer Andrew Boyce's bare beachfront (boasting real sand and real water).
This leaves Chaon Cross to almost single-handedly heft the play's weighty subtext in the role of Ellida. She is relieved from time to time by Tanya Thai McBride and Angela Morris as stepdaughters Bollette and Hilda, whose examples illustrate the alternative results of dreams deferred: the former finding contentment in compromise, but the latter hinting at the amorality her mischief will perpetrate in the sequel—oh, yes, Ibsen's not done with his restless heroines yet.
