Categories
Reviews

Nora: A Doll’s House

By Mimi Nation-Dixon.

Nora: A Doll’s House’ is a play that explores feminist themes through the life of protagonist Nora, in 1918, 1960 and 2018. Reframing Henrik Ibsen’s brutal portrayal of womanhood in his 1879 play, following the same protagonist through different time periods prompts audience members to question how far we have really come in terms of equality. 

At first, I was sceptical as to how this play would maintain relevance in a crowded Student Theatre scene; plays centred on feminism are not short of supply in Durham. Yet, after seeing the artistic promotion for this play – I was intrigued and excited at the prospect of a fresh outlook and perspective. Needless to say, it did not disappoint; a powerhouse of creatives behind the scenes, led by director Jennifer Lafferty, and a dedicated cast, ensured that the performance and story told was relevant, inspiring and honest. 

The staging, although simple, proved to be highly effective – the clever use of lighting ensured that the sparsity of the set never felt barren or bare – it felt lived in, Nora’s home. Lafferty must be commended for her clear and methodical approach in terms of staging what is a very complex play in a small venue. City Theatre has a small and compact stage – a play like Nora would have naturally lent itself to a bigger stage which would have allowed the actors to be freer in their movement. Nonetheless, tactical lighting and staging ensured that the limits placed on the production by the venue were minimal – and for this, the production team must be saluted. 

The whole cast were, with no doubt, strong actors all with a natural flair for storytelling. I would have liked to see more continued characteristics in the characters in the different time periods; this would have reinstated that they are indeed the same people, albeit with differing limiting contextual factors –  this would have enhanced the themes of the production, at times it was too easy to forget that it was the same character of Nora and Thomas in 1918, the sixties, and 2018. 

In a cast of strong actors, it is always hard to pick out particular performances which resonate. However, I must commend both Honor Calvert and Tom Pyle – dynamic, expressive and electric, they were able to ensure consistent ‘light and shade’ within their roles, creating an artful performance which didn’t fall into the trap of being just one dimensional. Emotion never felt forced. They both trusted the script and let the lines lead their performance, not visa versa. A special mention must also go to Nathan Jarvis who executed his role of Daniel with such conviction – allowing the audience the relief of a laugh in what was an emotionally intense story.

There were moments of the play which could have been executed better, such as the ‘slap’ and the sound effect of the baby crying – in a hyper naturalistic play, these moments were somewhat out of place and forced. However, the clever staging of the dance scene was artfully constructed and executed with slick professionalism.  

The final scene is a moment all the cast and crew should be immensely proud of – the astounding performances and clear and clever direction really leaves no room for criticism. Simultaneous with the lights, the Noras’ exhalation at the end of the play serving as a neat and powerful finish to a strong production. 

I mentioned how I was sceptical of the relevance of this play in a crowded student theatre scene. My worries were proved wrong, in the most wonderful of ways. Through thoughtful staging and clear direction – Jennifer Lafferty, assisted by Julia Kennerley and Abby Greenlaigh, managed to ensure that the characters remained truthful and real – ensuring the story remained raw and powerful. 

Categories
Perspective

The Power of Theatre

By Mimi Nation-Dixon.

I have often found myself losing focus when watching a TV show or a film – but I always find myself completely entranced when watching a piece of theatre – from my younger brother’s starring role as the donkey in his Year 2 nativity, to watching Juliet Stevenson star in Robert Icke’s combative play, ‘The Doctor’– I was captivated, albeit for different reasons.

This may be because through choosing to go to the theatre you are committing yourself to two hours of complete submission to the story being told. You are physically within the same building as the actors – so, however talented or not they may be (I am here referring to my brother’s role as a donkey), you can see and feel the human effort and skill behind the story.

This became apparent to me over summer; watching the preview night of ‘The Doctor’, there was a moment when an actor forgot his line at a pivotal moment. Confused panic spread across the eyes of all the cast on stage.

Suddenly this dramatic pause had lost all drama.

It was now just awkward.

Bizarrely, the audience felt nervous – a bit like what I would imagine one to feel if, when taking a bus, the driver took his hands off the wheel and yelled “look no hands!” Momentary excitement swiftly replaced by pulsating panic. But – through eye contact and improvisation the actors soon navigated their way back to the story. Hands now securely back on the wheel, the audience could breathe a sigh of relief. The wheel of the story once again moving.

Forgetting lines is probably one of an actor’s worst nightmares, but – with actors performing every night for weeks on end – statistically, forgetting your lines is inevitable. Human error is a necessary by-product of human effort. Top journalists will make typos – evidenced by a quick flick through the website MailOnline (though I am hesitant to use the phrase ‘top journalism’ and MailOnline in the same sentence). What I am trying to get at here is, wherever human effort is involved, mistakes are inevitable.

Yet it was this ‘mistake’ which made me realise the value of live theatre, and why it will always strike me as uniquely challenging – whether I am lucky enough to be able to perform and make live theatre professionally, or even just to be able to afford to watch live theatre regularly.

Theatre, to me, is where the most authentic human stories are told. The actors are just humans creating a story. The actors don’t know what will exactly happen on the night, and neither do the audience. This creates room for the unexpected.

As an actor, there is nothing more exhilarating than being on stage, adrenaline electrifying both performer and audience, the scene takes a new turn – the story leads the narration. Back in 2014, the space for exciting spontaneity facilitated by live theatre could be observed in the final performance of Jez Butterworth’s play Mojo. Actor Ben Whishaw smashed up the card table hinges and all, Daniel Mays and Rupert Grint ‘corpsed’ in their scene when Mays spat out a toothpick, and Tom Rhys Harris improvised his (usually silent) entrance. It was organic and exciting, and thus more real.

Live story-telling has power and value; evoking empathy through enhancing the shared human experience. I will never forget watching ‘A Monster Calls’ with a whole mass of fellow National Youth Theatre members. After the curtain call, we were all stuck to our seats, coming to terms with the story we had just been immersed in. On the tube home, none of us spoke to one another – so struck by the emotion of the play. Our silence however, was secure. Secure in the knowledge that we were all experiencing the same heightened emotions. Although silent, we were united by the invisible thread of the story we had just been told.

After-all, story-telling, although not one of the ‘seven life processes’, is a base human requirement, the feeling following watching a piece of live-theatre shouldn’t be elitist – and, making it inaccessible risks losing a key part of our human voice.