Engstrand (Hamish Linklater, left) with his supposed daughter Regina (Ella Beatty), in Henrik Ibsen’s Ghosts adapted by Mark O’Rowe.
In 1881, Ibsen’s Ghosts was considered shocking for its critique of conventional morality and its unabashed treatment of venereal disease and religious hypocrisy, among other topics. While the specifics of the social issues that the characters grapple with are not pressing today—syphilis is a curable disease, a woman trying to leave an unhappy marriage is not unthinkable, nor is the idea that a person of high social rank might be a degenerate—moral hypocrisy, patriarchy, class resentment, and generational trauma are always ripe for the stage. The gripping, finely acted production of Ghosts now playing at Lincoln Center, directed by Jack O’Brien and adapted by Mark O’Rowe, threads this needle: it retains the historical setting (though with a framing device) and yet makes the moral debates feel like more than artifacts from another era.
Helena Alving (Lily Rabe, left) tends to her son Oswald (Levon Hawke), who inherited syphilis from his late father, Captain Alving.
Ghosts is set on a Norwegian island, where Helena Alving (Lily Rabe), who lives with her servant Regina (Ella Beatty), is having an orphanage constructed on her property, to be named for her late husband, Captain Alving. Helena’s son Oswald (Levon Hawke) is home from Paris, having spent most of his youth abroad. Helena is advised on the orphanage project by Pastor Manders (Billy Crudup), who has known the family for decades. His advice consists of telling her to forgo insurance lest people gossip that he does not trust in God’s divine protection (how is that going to work out?).
The construction is led by Engstrand (Hamish Linklater), Regina’s supposed father and a disreputable alcoholic who wants to open a boarding house for sailors in town and recruit Regina to assist him, though she has her eye on Oswald and possible social elevation. That Regina pines for Oswald, and he for her, quickly becomes uncomfortable when Helena reveals to the feckless and hypocritical Manders that the late Captain was actually Regina’s father, and thus she and Oswald are half-siblings.
The extended scene between Helena and Manders, in which they delve into the past and in which Helena lifts the moralistic veil from his eyes with her insistence on not romanticizing the vile Captain and Manders’s own role in enabling him, is riveting:
When you sent me back to my husband by proclaiming as sacred and holy and right, what every part of my soul revolted against. That’s when I began to really unpick your argument. And I only had to pull at a single thread for the whole thing to come undone and reveal itself for the lie that it was.
Crudup and Rabe are electric. For all Manders’s bloviating, Crudup has enough magnetism to make it plausible when we learn that Helena once loved him. Japhy Weideman’s terrific lighting design is especially effective in this scene, with darkness gradually encroaching upon the two characters as Helena reveals her hard truths.
Billy Crudup plays Pastor Manders. Photographs by Jeremy Daniel.
Helena is not without fault, of course—she is forward-thinking and progressive but has nonetheless kept Regina in servitude. Upon this revelation, Regina shifts from meek to righteously angry, and Beatty makes the transformation powerful and believable. Hawke has a challenging role—especially as Oswald’s syphilis, which he learns from Helena was inherited from his father, goes from more or less dormant to suddenly deadly in the span of a few moments—and while he is less assured than the rest of the ensemble at first, he carries off Oswald’s decent into illness with aplomb. Linklater is excellent as Engstrand and is able to inject some comedy into the proceedings without losing sight of the character’s own moral failings and potential menace.
The production begins by reminding the audience that it is a theatrical production—the characters thumb through scripts, and the opening exchange, between Engstrand and Regina, is performed three times, increasing in volume and clarity with each rendering. However, the metatheatrical frame is dropped after these first lines and doesn’t reappear until the final tableau. Its purpose is a bit enigmatic, though perhaps it’s a commentary on the historical distance from Ibsen’s world or the monumental status of the play.
The frame is the only alienating directorial touch, as the rest of the production proceeds naturalistically, including unfussy period costumes by Jess Goldstein and an understated, elegant set design by John Lee Beatty, with rain pattering against the backdrop of glass doors. (The sound design is by Scott Lehrer.)
O’Rowe’s adaptation is direct and colloquial, rather than lyrical or poetic. This is a production that doesn’t strain to make Ibsen relevant, but by focusing on the characters and trusting in a first-rate cast, succeeds to do exactly that.
Ghosts runs through April 26 at Lincoln Center’s Mitzi E. Newhouse Theatre (150 West 65th St.). Evening performances are 7 p.m. Tuesday and Thursday and 8 p.m. Wednesday, Friday, and Saturday. Matinees are 2 p.m. on Wednesday and Saturday and 3 p.m. on Sunday. For tickets, visit lct.org.
Playwright: Henrik Ibsen, adapted by Mark O’Rowe
Director: Jack O’Brien
Scenic Design: John Lee Beatty
Lighting Design: Japhy Weideman
Costume Design: Jess Goldstein
Sound Design: Scott Lehrer
Original Music: Mark Bennett
