Remarks by Resident Dramaturg Kate Bredeson. Enjoy!
There’s something refreshing about Court Theatre’s approach to the preview process. At Court, there are not just a couple of previews, but a whole week of them: seven performances total. And every night, following the performance, there is a post-show discussion between audience and artistic staff (usually led by me and director Charlie Newell). The thing that’s really exciting is that not only does Court actively solicit the opinions of audience members, but that things drastically and entirely change within the course of previews, often based on those shared comments.
Last night, after Sunday evening’s performance of The Wild Duck and the subsequent production meeting, the artistic team convened to discuss the production. We talked about what was working, what wasn’t, what questions we have, what we love, what we don’t, and the last half hour of the conversation was devoted to a possible huge re-writing and re-staging of the final scene of the play. Richard Nelson, who wrote the new translation/adaptation of Ibsen’s play expressly for a début at the Court, spent the weekend with us to see the production and discuss the process, and suddenly in our meeting, he began discussing the tricky last scene, and pulled out his script and drew sweeping arrows, made slashes through dialogue, and scribbled new words in the margins. We don’t know yet if this will indeed become the final five minutes of the production, but Charlie is excited to try it and see what happens.
Today was our first day off in a week, and tomorrow (after the inauguration) we are back in the theatre at the MCA to explore new ideas, incarnations, and experiments. Characters are still evolving and growing, the set and lights and clothes continue to change. We still have questions, and, five days before opening, we still have time to explore—which is a good place to be.
POST NO BILLS- HANG ON FOR DEATH WITH THEM!
The opticians’ sign on the back wall of the set, I think unfortunately, really hits the audience over the head about the genetic clue, early enough begun to be given in the script. Is it there, where Hjalmar could see it everyday, to emphasize that he should have realized much earlier that Hedvig was Werle’s daughter?
I’ve read the play as translated in 1968 by R. V. Forslund. If I heard the Court’s performance correctly, in Act II, when old Ekdal describes a wild duck’s dive to the bottom, there is, in my opinion, an important variance between his and Mr. Nelsons’s translations of these lines. From Forslund: “They dive as deep as they can and then they bite into the seaweed and long grasses or any damn thing they can get hold of down there. That way they make sure they’ll never come up again.” The present performance has lines to the effect that the ducks get tangled up, not that they cling with absolute determination to never resurface. This is a big change to the meaning for me- anyone else? That same variance recurred in Act III; as Forslund had it [Gregers to Hjalmar] “You, too, have plunged down and fastened yourself to the weeds-”.
We attended the Thursday, January 15th performance. There was a 39 below zero windchill, and we had to drive back to Valparaiso, IN, so we couldn’t stay for the discussion afterward.
Our party of 4 were glad to have attended despite that weather.
If you’re so concerned about not revealing the “big secret” to the audience before its proper moment, why did you just give it away in your first paragraph?
I kid.
Actually, it’s my opinion (and I believe the production shares this view) that the question of Hedvig’s parentage is sort of a red herring. Anyone who’s listening knows exactly what the score is as soon as Gregers figures it out towards the beginning of Act II (Hjalmar: “It’s hereditary.” Gregers: “WHAT?”). The idea that the parentage question drives the plot for the audience is a convention of melodrama that Ibsen is consciously subverting–one of many, I think. The real question (or one of the many possible real questions) is when is the coin finally going to drop for Hjalmar, and when it does, what chaos is he capable of causing for his hapless family? The “OPTICAL SUPPLIES” sign on the back wall is, to my eye, a gag meant to point up Ibsen’s irreverence for the cliches of his contemporary theater.
Regarding your comment about the translation, let me point our Dramaturg and our Norwegian scholar to this post and see if they have anything to add.
I’m glad you dug the show!
I absolutely agree with Jack that the question of Hedvig’s parentage is a red herring and a sort of joke, Ibsen making fun of himself and his use of heredity as a compelling explanation for his characters’ behavior. Think of Nora and remember that Torvald pointed to her father and his nefarious character to explain her transgressions. Ghosts, of course, is fairly dripping with Naturalism and the concomitant genetic explication for all that ensues: Osvald–and Regine–might as well carry signs saying: “signs of the father.” Even in Enemy of the People, Dr. Stockmann delivers a semi-hysterical speech in which he attributes the behavior of the angry mob that opposes him to their genetics, comparing them to ill-bred fowl and dogs. I’m afraid that I could go on, but I’ll stop and close by saying that while the question, “who is Hedvig’s father,” is unimportant, Ibsen is profoundly interested in the relationship between parents and children, which is certainly a part of The Wild Duck. As Jack noted, the onus is on Hjalmar to assert his parentage of Hedvig by his actions; unhappily, he is far more interested in his own ego. Old Werle, ironically enough, turns out to be the better father.
As for the translation question, Michael is correct that the duck is described as “biting” into the weeds, which certainly adds something to the larger metaphor. However, we should note that, in actual fact, this is not an observed animal behavior, just some hyperbole from Ibsen.