Showing posts with label Henrik Ibsen. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Henrik Ibsen. Show all posts

Wednesday, December 11, 2024

Rosmersholm by Henrik Ibsen (#Norway)

MRS. HELSETH: But children don't cry at Rosmersholm, Miss.
REBEKKA  (Looks at her): Don't cry?
MRS. HELSETH: No. As long as people can remember, children have never been known to cry in this house.
REBEKKA: How very strange.
MRS. HELSETH: Yes, isn't it? It runs in the family. And then there's another strange thing. When they grow up, they never laugh. Never--as long as they live.
REBEKKA: Why, how queer--
MRS. HELSETH: Do you ever remember hearing or seeing Pastor Rosmer laugh, Miss?
REBEKKA: No, I don't believe I ever have,...

Rosmersholm is Henrik Ibsen's play of 1886. Rosmersholm is the ancestral family home of the well-to-do Rosmer family, whose current head is Johannes Rosmer, a pastor 45 years old. But he's a pastor who has lost his faith and has just given up his pastoral role, not least because his wife committed suicide and he's still in grief. Was her death the result of mental illness, or was he in some way responsible? He can't decide.

In addition to Johannes Rosmer, living in the house are Rebekka West, who'd arrived as a companion for Beata Rosmer, but stayed on after Beata's death, and Mrs. Hesketh, the long-standing family maid. Over the course of the play three visitors come, each more than once. Andreas Kroll, Rosmer's brother-in-law, is the first; there are also Peder Mortensgaard, publisher of a left-wing newspaper who has a history with Rosmer, and Ulrik Brendel, Rosmer's former tutor, but now a drunk.

His three visitors all want something from Rosmer. Kroll hadn't visited since his sister's suicide; the grief he and Rosmer share meant they couldn't bring themselves to talk to each other. (The inability to express emotion is a theme.) But now the left has won the last election in Norway and Kroll, a staunch conservative, expects Rosmer to stand up for the forces of good, as he sees them, church and crown and all that. Kroll is organizing a new newspaper advocating conservatism and wants Rosmer to be the editor. But Rosmer thinks the left might have some arguments on its side.

Mortensgaard wants Rosmer to stand up for the left in his paper, but only if he's still a proper Christian: he's got plenty of atheists already in his stable. But when Rosmer's unwilling to lie about his new (lack of) faith, Mortensgaard says he has no use for him, and will be forced to consider him an enemy.

Brendel wants a clean shirt, a jacket--and money--so he can throw it away at a local bar. He's a bit the comic relief, but we also learn some of Johannes Rosmer's back story from their conversations.

Why did Beata Rosmer commit suicide? Though modern diagnoses are perhaps suspect, everyone does assume she was depressed, without quite using the word. But also she had learned she was not able to bear children; so, unless she died, she would mark the end of the Rosmer line and Rosmersholm would no longer have a Rosmer. And, before she dies, she sends a letter to Mortensgaard claiming her husband is in love with Rebekka West.

Was he? Maybe a little. It was in conversation with Rebekka West that Rosmer moved to the left politically; now, during the course of the play, do we see their interactions as perhaps a bit too friendly for an unmarried man and woman? Certainly Kroll does. Can a man and a woman just be friends? It's not always an easy question now, and it was much more loaded in 1886. Kroll at first assumes there's nothing between them, but then begins to wonder; he's the first to suggest that maybe the two of them should get married. He also rather rudely (and inaccurately) suggests to Rebekka West she's a gold-digger.
 
The idea really hadn't occurred to Rosmer before (did I mention repressed?) but once it's suggested, he decides it's a good one and proposes to Rebekka; she turns him down. 

How does all of this get resolved? Ibsen did write one or two comedies, it seems; I've never read or seen any of them, and this isn't one either...

A local troupe (Crow's Theatre) did the play in October and we went to see it. I hadn't read or seen the play before, and I decided to be surprised. (Other than my general sense that Ibsen's prose plays are mostly tragedies.) Then I read it afterwards in a different translation. The stage version said it was an adaptation, by Duncan Macmillan; the translation I just read (quoted above) was by Eva La Gallienne. There was one bit in particular I wondered if it was in the original.

Rebekka West won't marry Rosmer because she says she can't bring the purity to the marriage he deserves. That almost certainly implied she was not a virgin and was being fastidious. For a play set in Victorian times that's not improbable and I think that's what Ibsen intends us to think. Rebekka West believed herself an orphan with a father she'd never met; she was raised by a foster father, Dr. West, after her mother died; it's from Dr. West she gets her education and intellectual interests. She clearly worshipped him. Kroll believes, and goes on to 'prove', though his evidence is mostly circumstantial, that Dr. West was Rebekka West's biological father. She's shocked by the suggestion, says it can't be true, she's not illegitimate, but she begins to believe it.

In the production I saw, the actress curled up in a corner of the stage and half-whimpered her lines; it was a very powerful moment, and the clear implication was that the person she'd lost her 'purity' with was, in fact, Dr. West, her foster father, and she hadn't known he was her biological father. And that's what I wondered about. Ibsen was famously frank about sex for his time, but was he really willing to put even a mention of father-daughter incest on stage in 1886? The Macmillan version did say it was an adaptation.

But as far as I can tell without both texts in front of me, the 'adaptation' was pretty close to a translation, and La Gallienne in the introduction to her translation (from the 1950s; her father, a journalist, had interviewed Ibsen at one time) thinks the incest is implied. So the answer may be, yes, Ibsen was willing. But I do think the text sufficiently ambiguous the play could be staged without suggesting incest, if the director wanted to.
 
Rebecca West, the writer, author of Black Lamb and Gray Falcon, was born Cecily Isabel Fairfield, and took her name from the character in this play. That was a bit shocking. Rebekka West was a pretty admirable figure in the play, but I might prefer a pen name from somebody who had more luck in life myself...


Tuesday, April 28, 2020

Peer Gynt

"But just what is the Gyntish self?"

I reread this to prepare for reading something else in the future. We'll see how that pans out...

Peer Gynt (1867) is a long dramatic poem, a play if you will, by Henrik Ibsen, but so long as to be almost unperformable. At any rate, Ibsen didn't imagine it being performed, until later when he did, and got his acquaintance Edvard Grieg to write some now-famous incidental music for a production.

Peer Gynt is the (anti-?) hero of his namesake play. His father is dead, having died drunk and nearly broke; his mother is still alive, exasperated by her wayward son, but not to the point where she will let anybody else say the bad things about him she allows herself to say.

There was an actual Peer Gynt fifty or a hundred years before the play, but he had already moved into folklore by the time Ibsen took him up as a subject.

The problem with Peer is that he's an irresponsible liar. I'm not sure I should be reading any more things (more than I already do) at this time about irresponsible liars, but be that as it may. When the play starts, Peer, returning home after a month supposedly hunting--his clothes are shredded--tells his mother he was abducted by a flying reindeer. She doesn't believe him, but his lies are so vivid, she starts to retroactively fear for his life anyway.

The play/poem, 200 pages in my edition, is Peer's entire life; the irresponsibility overwhelms the early lying, but then sheer immorality overwhelms the irresponsibility. Peer and his mother need money; there's a neighbor heiress who is attracted to Peer and is about to be married against her wishes. At that wedding Peer sees Solveig; maybe she's the one he wants? Instead Peer abducts the bride, but in the end refuses to marry her; and so now he's now wanted by the law.

What does Peer really want? What is that Gyntish self? He meets the daughter of the king of the trolls (or is that just a fantasy?) and could marry her, but then he'd have to live the trollish life, adopt the trollish motto: "to thy own self, be...enough." (There's also the little matter of a required eye surgery that makes anything ugly look beautiful.)

You see the beginnings of the existentialist crisis here. He flees Norway to try on various roles, all of which temporarily seem the proper Gyntish self: rich man, prophet, lover, even archeologist. None of them last. He behaves pretty badly in doing these things: it's the slave trade makes him rich, etc.

In the end he returns to Norway an old man. He meets the devil, (presumably, not so named) but worse he meets the Button-Moulder: if you go to heaven, then great, you've gone to heaven; if you go the other way, well, then, at least you were a great sinner, and you have preserved your identity. But the Button-Moulder! He recycles the soul-stuff from wishy-washy types by melting it all down to start anew. If you've never found yourself, your true Gyntish self, it's the Button-Moulder for you! And the Button-Moulder tells Peer that Peer is his kind of material.

This makes it all a bit Faust with a twist.

Does Peer save himself from the Button-Moulder? The ending is deliberately ambiguous. Should he have been saved? Enh, I don't know. Poking around, I found this quote from Robert Bly, "He does horrible things throughout the play and yet you end up loving him very much." I'm not sure I entirely felt that love, but clearly some do, and your mileage may vary...

In any case, I suppose even basically horrible people need to find themselves, too.

The edition I read was an older Penguin translated by Peter Watts. It was a verse translation and it was OK, but I wasn't amazed. I found the Robert Bly quote looking for alternative translations. Watts:
"...with a huge concern like mine,
that gave employment to some thousands,
to close the firm down altogether
becomes particularly hard."

Bly:
"Thousands worked for me--to an enjoyment.
But I became concerned about unemployment!"
I'm not entirely sure between those two. I assume the Watts is much closer to the text, but Ibsen rhymes in Norwegian, and the Bly has more brio. The Bly doesn't seem to have ever been printed, though it was the text for a production at the Guthrie Theater in Minnesota, with Mark Rylance (!) as Peer Gynt in 2007. That would have been fun. Penguin has replaced the older Peer Gynt I have with a new translation by Geoffrey Hill; Oxford has one translated by Christopher Fry. If you have ideas, let me know! Because my copy has basically dissolved after this reading, and Peer Gynt is after all a classic...

Some other quotes I copied out from the Watts translation:

The King of the Trolls: "My son, we trolls aren't as black as we're painted--
that's another difference between us and you!"
-Act II

(Meaning, we humans *are* as black as we're painted?)

The Great Boyg: "He was too strong. There were women behind him."
-Act II

Peer Gynt: "'Exalted?' Yes, that's what will happen to me;
Anything else is unthinkable."
-Act IV

Peer Gynt: ...I've just one question first:
what, after all, is this 'being one's self'? 
The Button-Moulder: A curious question indeed, on the lips
of a man who has just-- 
Peer Gynt: A direct answer, please. 
The Button-Moulder: Being one's self means slaying one's Self
But that answer's presumably wasted on you,
and therefore let's say: 'Above everything else
it's observing the Master's intentions in all things.' 
Peer Gynt: But what can one do if one's never found out
what the Master intended? 
The Button-Moulder: One just has to guess. 
Peer Gynt: But a man's intuitions so often prove wrong,
and then one is sunk, as it were, in mid-ocean! 
The Button-Moulder: Exactly, Peer Gynt, it's when insight is lacking
that the lad with the hoof makes the best of his captures.
-Act V

So: to thine own self be true?