When it comes to playwright Henrik Ibsen, most of us are familiar with Hedda Gabler and A Doll鈥檚 House. Less known is The Master Builder, a peculiar and intriguing 1892 drama being revived by Blue Bridge Repertory Theatre at the Roxy Theatre.
The play, directed by Brian Richmond using an adaptation by David Hare, is about middle-aged Norwegian architect Halvard Solness. He has achieved enviable success, but fears his achievements will be overshadowed by the younger generation nipping at his heels.
Solness (David Ferry) is a quivering mass of contradictions: vain, unconfident, guilt-ridden, arrogant, torn between duty and desire.
Enter mysterious Hilde Wangel, played by Amanda Lisman. Visiting Solness鈥檚 home unannounced, Hilde insists Solness made romantic overtures when she was just a teen. Now, 10 years later, she has come to collect on his promise 鈥� that Hilde would be his 鈥減rincess鈥� and he would build her a castle. Eventually, she goads him into climbing a tower on his just-completed building, resulting in a tragic finale.
The Master Builder met with a decidedly mixed reception upon its debut. Some declared the strange play to be as loony as the madness into which Solness fears he has descended. It might be helpful to view it as Ibsen鈥檚 semi-autobiographical examination of an artist鈥檚 life.
Solness achieves creative success at the expense of others and ultimately suffers an Icarus-like fate. His triumphs seem curiously heaven-sent, and yet he leaves behind a trail of ruined lives, including those of his assistant Ragnar (Rod Peter Jr.), his book-keeper, Kaja (Emma Newton), and his long-suffering wife, Aline, well played by Jan Wood.
The Master Builder鈥檚 smorgasbord of capital-letter themes can seem like an overwhelming dog鈥檚 breakfast. There鈥檚 loss of religious faith, fear of mortality and the struggle between duty and sexual desire. Ibsen pivots between naturalism and symbolism while lobbing Freudian head-spinners (there鈥檚 much talk of the towers Solness likes to erect).
Hilde 鈥� possibly the product of Solness鈥檚 fevered imagination 鈥� is a wonderfully bold creation. She鈥檚 a Dionysian siren who shrugs off the shackles of societal respectability in favour of sensuality, poetry and idealism.
On Thursday, Lisman鈥檚 lynchpin performance was captivating: physical, passionate, erotically charged. She extolled Solness鈥檚 gifts with a devilishly mercurial passion. One lingering and powerful image is Lisman tossing her red hair while arching back seductively across a sofa.
Ferry, as Solness, is a strong presence. At times, his acting seemed overly understated in contrast to Lisman鈥檚 more heightened performance. That said, Ferry successfully conveyed the inner conflict of a tortured man at war with himself.
The production benefits from Graham McMonagle鈥檚 bare-bones set, notable for a burlap-look backdrop resembling a cliff face. This was illuminated imaginatively by Giles Hoyga, with shifts in light paralleling the rhythms of speech. Brooke Maxwell鈥檚 mysterious music/soundscape also contributes to The Master Builder鈥檚 other-worldly atmosphere.
The show continues at the Roxy to June聽9.
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In their 1960s/鈥�70s heyday, Frankie Valli and The Four Seasons never got the critical acclaim enjoyed by other chart-topping contemporaries.
Perhaps their doo-wop harmonies sounded dated in the love-鈥檔鈥�-peace age. Or maybe it was Valli鈥檚 astonishing falsetto, which for some is an acquired taste and, for others, a thrilling pop confection.
The truth, as the jukebox musical Jersey Boys proves, is that The Four Seasons were a musical force to be reckoned with. Much thanks goes to member Bob Gaudio, a pop wunderkind who composed such songs as Sherry (the band鈥檚 first hit), Big Girls Don鈥檛 Cry, Walk Like a Man, Dawn (Go Away) and Rag Doll.
Gaudio gets his full due in Jersey Boys, concluding its run at the Royal Theatre with two shows today and two more on Sunday. The only 鈥渙fficial鈥� Broadway touring production (and the same one that played Toronto鈥檚 Ed Mirvish Theatre recently), it鈥檚 a worthwhile show boasting superior singing, snappy choreography and fast-paced direction. Fans of the music won鈥檛 be disappointed 鈥� and those coming late to the party will also find plenty to enjoy.
Jersey Boys follows a loosely documentary style. It鈥檚 a familiar show-biz trope: a band works hard for success, succeeds despite obstacles, enjoys the riches and then struggles with the fissures that follow.
We first meet The Four Seasons during their New Jersey teen years. Opportunities for the Jersey boys were few 鈥� they included petty crime, jail and getting 鈥渕obbed up鈥� (interestingly, actor Joe Pesci, renowned for his gangster roles, was a real-life pal of The Four Seasons and surfaces in the show as a minor character).
Music was another career option. We follow the boys as they work the nightclub circuit, provide anonymous background vocals in recording successions, then hit it big with the million-selling Sherry.
What made this song, and others, is Valli鈥檚 faux-castrato singing, which cannily captures adolescent angst and ecstasy with ice-pick potency.
On Wednesday night, Valli was ably played by understudy Tony Clements. (Regular Jonny Wexler, sidelined by a minor back complaint, returned to the show Thursday). The diminutive Clements not only looked the part, he bull鈥檚-eyed the tricky high notes with a pleasantly nasal timbre.
Another standout was Corey Greenan, playing band member Tommy DeVito. DeVito is arguably the most interesting character, a street hustler and ex-con who was instrumental in the band鈥檚 rise and later racked up crippling gambling debts. Greenan, a good singer, exuded such 1,000-watt swagger and energy, it was hard to look away.
Sergio Trujillo鈥檚 choreography is a hoot. Precise, geometric dance moves are dispatched with hyper-realistic zeal. Equally enjoyable 鈥� and campy 鈥� are the costumes, a 1960s wet dream of two-tone shirts and bouffant hair.
Director Des McAnuff, a former artistic director of the Stratford Festival, moves the short, TV-like scenes along with rock-and-roll energy.
