When Nora walked out on her husband and their three children in 1879, slamming the door behind her, the sound reverberated round Europe, bringing Ibsen instant international fame. The critics found the subject morbid, unwholesome and unnatural. A German actress declared she would never leave her children and refused to play Nora until Ibsen gave her the happy ending she wanted. There were also happy endings at the premieres in England and America.
Nora has been a doll all her life, the plaything of her father and then of her husband who thinks of her first and foremost as his wife and the mother of his children. The notion that she is first and foremost a human being never occurs to him. She is his prize possession; he adores and patronises her. If Nora is immature and irresponsible, then the men are to blame. Hattie Morahan and Dominic Rowan are defeated only by their final scene when the dialogue feels very artificial and the acting becomes forced. Nick Fletcher’s subtle performance as a blackmailer is also very effective.
Carrie Cracknell’s production has a set (designed by Ian MacNeil), which regularly revolves and which allows the action to be played in a variety of rooms; fascinating though this is, it means that too many scenes are chopped in a totally unnecessary and awkward way. But the real surprise is that in all this movement, the director does not focus on the all-important letter in the locked letter-box.