Arts & Culture

What: Rosmersholm
Where: Crow’s Theatre, 345 Carlaw Ave.
When: Now, until Sun., Oct. 6
Highlight: Virgilia Griffith’s soaring performance as Rebecca West
Rating: NNN (out of 5)
Why you should go: Rarely performed Ibsen script is complex, heart-rending.

THOUGH SET in late-19th-century Norway, one element of Ibsen’s Rosmersholm ties it to our present moment: an election. In the play’s opening minutes, we hear that tension is bubbling over, political tides are shifting, truth has been discarded and logic is no longer guaranteed victory. The new deciding factor? Who speaks loudest.

Crow’s Theatre has used this connection as the marketing hook for its new production of the haunting, still-underrated script, here translated by British playwright Duncan Macmillan. The synopsis on the company’s website begins: “An election looming. A country on the brink. A rabid press baying for blood.” But, in my view, Chris Abraham’s production, now on stage in the Guloien Theatre, doesn’t do much to underline these themes — it’s a serviceable take on the drama, but one that could’ve been produced decades ago.

Pastor John Rosmer (Jonathon Young) is the heir to an influential family dynasty of right-wing churchmen. After his wife Beth’s suicide, the manipulative but sympathetic Rebecca West (Virgilia Griffith) begins to sink her pincers into John, encouraging him to leave the church and become a left-wing radical. This defection shocks old-guard governor Andreas Kroll (Ben Carlson), who proceeds to tear apart his old friend in the press, leaving the Rosmer name besmirched. After that, tragedy is a footbridge away. Fragility is the play’s subject: in this fraught town, one socially unacceptable move has the power to tumble centuries of reputation.

Another key character is the Rosmer family manor, named in the title (often pronounced “Rosmers’ home”). Regular Abraham collaborator Joshua Quinlan has erected an in-the-round period set complete with portraits of the Rosmer family glaring down from all sides. It’s a surprisingly sparse playing arena considering the grandness the script attributes to the home — quite unlike Quinlan’s co-design of the 2022 Uncle Vanya at Crow’s, the space doesn’t feel particularly lived-in. (And nothing about the show’s visual world is related to the election, despite this apparently being the production’s motivating idea.)

Action is the challenge with Rosmersholm. It’s a talky play packed with revelation after revelation. But what are these characters doing with themselves? It’s a tricky question I’m not sure Abraham has adequately answered — most of the blocking involves the actors walking in circles, speaking their lines because, well, that’s what the script says. But where are the physical events that make theatre so exciting? Abraham puts John’s servants to interesting use — they get lots to do, at one point changing his clothes for him as he hypocritically speaks about the importance of equality — but our protagonists are often left to communicate through words alone.

Griffith does soaring, generous work. Considering the production’s relatively brief two-hour-and-15-minute runtime (including intermission), Rebecca’s arc is mountainous, yet Griffith makes it believable, giving a wrenchingly physical performance — after intermission, her character seems constantly on the verge of a panic attack, at one point spending minutes hunched on the floor.

But strong individual performances don’t make a show. While I remain thrilled Crow’s chose to do this complex, heart-rending play, Abraham just hasn’t done enough to bring it into the here and now.