Reviewed by Ambrea
Nora
Helmer is a housewife: she dutifully
cooks and cleans, manages the household staff, takes care of the children, and,
in general, oversees her husband’s home.
Flighty and lavish, Nora is doted upon by her husband, Torvald, and
plays house for him. But when their home
and their very livelihood is threatened by an outsider, Nora’s decisions will
come back to haunt her—and it will shake their marriage to its very foundation.
A Doll’s House
is an intriguing play and, I think, definitely worth reading—or viewing—at
least once, because it offers unparalleled insight into the life of a 19th
century housewife and all the expectations that go along with it. It’s a sharp in its telling, pinpointing
marital flaws and social issues with uncompromising candor.
Nora
is essentially a doll. Through much of
Henrik Ibsen’s play, Torvald dictates everything in her life—her clothes, her
shoes, her manners, her religious beliefs, her children’s education, and
more—and, when she makes decisions for herself (for the health of her husband,
mind you), she is chastised and even threatened. She’s given no leeway, no sense of
individuality, and, essentially, no hope.
She’s a toy, a plaything, and she’s not really given the opportunity to
change that, until her world comes crashing down around her.
I
found it particularly fascinating to see how Nora grows up in an instant, how
she changes dramatically when given the opportunity. As things begin to fall apart—when her
marriage and, yes, her very life is threatened—I thought it was interesting to
see how she began to view herself and her husband through new eyes. She begins to see her own self-worth, which
is certainly an astonishing thing for a housewife who has known nothing else,
and she views her husband for the man he is and not the man she imagined. She begins to see happiness as a desirable
thing, even if it means flouting social convention.
I
was intrigued by her transformation.
More importantly, I was thrilled by her final speech when she decides
that things must change—that she must change if she’s ever going to
survive, if she’s ever going to become her own person. Her moment of clarity is sudden and
brilliant: her happiness is important
too.
And
she will stop the cycle, as she states when she tells Torvald she has never
been happy:
Torvald: Not—not happy!
Nora: No, only merry. And you have always been so kind to me. But our home has been nothing but a
playroom. I have been your doll wife,
just as at home I was Papa’s doll child; and here the children have been my
dolls. I thought it great fun when you
played with me, just as they thought it was great fun when I played with
them. That is what our marriage has
been, Torvald.
Nora
has a startling insight into her marriage that changes the entire dynamic of their
relationship. Her transformation is
astonishing, and her decision would have been unheard of. The fact that she made a decision for herself
at all would have been surprising in the heavily moderated and monitored
Victorian society. It’s actually pretty
fascinating, and I think that Henrik Ibsen does a fantastic job of capturing
the drama of a fractured domestic life.
Admittedly,
A Doll’s House does have a few moments
where it grows dull and dry, making it difficult to slog through the
dialogue. Honestly, the last five pages
or so of the play were exactly what I was waiting to find—that’s exactly when
the real drama unfolds and Nora shocks everyone (her husband included) by
making a decision against convention.
Everything else then feels like idle chatter.
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