In the mise en scene, Hedda surveys her living room, dominated by a portrait of her father, General Gabler, which she embraces before darkness overtakes the Tesman villa in 1890 Norway. When morning light shines coldly, her husband George's Aunt Julie, talking cozily (!), with her former servant, marvels at the expensive furnishings, what with the Tesmans just returned from an extended honeymoon abroad. So much exposition then follows so soon, we had better listen carefully. With the appearance of George, we realize Julie and sick companion-Aunt have mortgaged their annuity for him, based on his academic prospects now that he's been titled doctor for "ordering and collecting" medieval historical tidbits. Unappreciative Hedda slyly insults Julie, even to warding off her parting embrace.
Tessie Hogan is never better than when Hedda's being evasive, especially about now being pregnant and her past flirtation with Judge Brack, who longs to make her his secret mistress. The affair Hedda hasn't got over, though, is with Eilbert Lovborg (played so dourly by V Craig Heidenreich that he seems a poor pivot for the plot's triangles). Lovborg's in the same field as George but writes with great passion about important issues, has just published a well-received book, and could easily win a competition over George for the position he's already borrowed against receiving. Luckily for George, Lovborg wants instead to publish a manuscript that entails the march of civilization and inspired futuristic theories. Unluckily for Lovborg, he has never got over a passion for Hedda Gabler, though he has quit a life of debauchery and is a recovering alcoholic.
His "inspiration" in life and art arrives at the Tesman home in the person of Thea Elvsted (lovely, intense Crislyn V. Soske), who's left her much older husband with whom she has "not a thought in common" or "single point of sympathy." Anxious to keep Lovborg on the straight and narrow, she plays into the hands of envious Hedda. Ironically, they're soon to be two women "used" by men, though Hedda gets caught while set on having the "power to mould a human destiny."
After a quick series of reversals of fortune, Hedda finally finds a deadly relief from her boredom with George, the machinations of Brack, and the prison of a life not lived as her father's daughter.
Ibsen's translators have rendered his psychological probings in fine colloquial style, though they've apparently been unable to make anything of his ironic uses of the familiar "du" (for "you"), so they've omitted it. There's little of the General after initial attention to the portrait, as well. All the symbols (like hair) and parallels (such as MS = baby) remain. Under Gil Lazier's direction, action takes off slowly but builds nicely. A three-act division might have helped. Hogan nicely mingles Hedda's signature boredom with caprice, but when she throws herself on a chaise, is that meant to lead Brack on? Should it?
As the Judge, Howard Elfman is suave, despite an opening night dropping of some narrative that Hogan had to pick up. Handsome Melliss Kenworthy avoided making Aunt Julie too much of a goody-two-shoes, enunciating a wealth of information under the guise of enthusiastic comment. The most wonderful surprise: Matt Bradford Sullivan, a perfect George Tesman. Though dead-on as a sentimental nephew, a mediocre academician, and an obsequious husband, Sullivan made us care about what happens to George even while we snickered at his fussiness and shortcomings. We're supposed to be concerned about what Hedda's lack of freedom does to her, but in this production, we may have been happiest when George got his. Fancy that!
Scenery and props are elegant; costumes and lighting, just right. Music rounds out a memorable production.
