Nora
Bergman is faithful to Ibsen’s plot, which tells a common story in an uncommonly powerful melodramatic way. Nora gradually learns that if she wants to grow up and create a marriage of equals, she must leave her oppressive, infantilizing husband and follow the hard road of independence. In Ibsen’s time, women couldn’t own property, vote, or control their own finances; Nora broke this rule when she borrowed money, forging her father’s signature, to pay for a year abroad that saved her husband’s life when he was dangerously ill. When her secret is revealed, all illusions about their marriage are shattered. Torvald’s manly protection and unconditional love turn out to be fantasies, and Nora leaves, slamming the door in a theatrical gesture that has become the play’s famous punch line.
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her mind the whole time. Collins seems to have no other choice given the empty set, the total lack of connection between her and the other characters, and the pared-down script. Nora is the least real of the characters in this production. Her final speech, an aria of a monologue, is surprisingly flat despite Collins’s sobs and exclamations. She has nothing on which to build the moment, because Bergman and Newell have eliminated all of Ibsen’s naturalistic clutter. There’s no real tragedy in her decision to leave–Nora seems to abandon her former life as easily as she unbuckles her sexy corset and drops it to the floor, breathing a little easier but gaining or losing nothing in particular.
