THE MASTER BUILDER has always been a controversial play. Norwegian playwright Henrik Ibsen’s story received extreme reactions when it was first published in Scandinavia in 1892. Most criticised it for being too obscure. A writer for the Saturday Review called it “a distracting jumble of incoherent elements” and argued that “there is no story” and “the characters are impossible.” But over time, appreciation for the play grew. The Master Builder is now considered to be one of Henrik Ibsen’s finest.
Ibsen, the 19th century founder of modern prose drama, had a relentless interest in humanity’s darker side. He experimented with expressionism, a new movement that was then coming into vogue. It was a departure from the Romantic style, as Ibsen brought the complications of everyday life onto the stage. It’s perhaps this aspect of his work that inspired the Norwegian Embassy to have directors from the Asian subcontinent adapt Ibsen’s stories in the context of their respective societies and languages. Handling a revolutionary playwright like Ibsen, the organisers of the Ibsen festival thought, will throw up intercultural challenges, such as: How does one present Ibsen’s radical ideas to conservative societies?
In The Master Builder, Ibsen paints a complex portrait of one man’s consuming desire for success. For the Delhi festival, Kolkata theatre director Shantanu Bose, with actors from the Saltlake Monirath Group, set Ibsen’s text against a Bengali setting.
The Master Builder chronicles the career and personal relationships of Halvard Solness, a man who has not let anything come in the way of his ambition. For years, Solness, a famous builder in a small Norwegian town, has mercilessly dominated his employees and his melancholic wife, Aline. Now a middle-aged man, he feels that he has lost his creativity and is threatened by the younger generation of architects, including Ragnar Brovik (the son of Solness’ ex-employer Knut, whose firm he took over). He does not allow Ragnar any design work nor does he let him leave the firm. The dénouement unfolds when a mysterious young girl, Hilda, suddenly comes into his life—she who reminds him of his glorious past while leading him to his tragic fate.
Hilda has idolised Halvard since early in his career when he had built a large church in her hometown and climbed to the top of its tower during its dedication ceremony.
Hilda:There was music in the churchyard—and many, many hundreds of people. We school girls were dressed in white; and we all carried flags.
Solness: Ah yes, those flags—I can tell you I remember them!
Hilda:Then you climbed right up the scaffolding, straight to the very top; and you had a great wreath with you; and you hung that wreath right away up on the weather-vane.
Solness: [curtly] I always did that in those days. It is an old custom.
Hilda:It was so wonderfully thrilling to stand below and look up at you. Fancy, if he should fall over! He—the master builder himself! Oh, it was so gloriously thrilling! I could not have believed there was a builder in the whole world that could build such a tremendously high tower. And then, that you yourself should stand at the very top of it, as large as life! And that you should not be the least bit dizzy! It was that above everything that made one dizzy to think of.
Solness falls for this fantasised vision of himself. And now, Hilda Wangel has come to demand that he honour a love vow he made to her 10 years earlier.
Hilda: And then you said that when I grew up I should be your princess.
Solness:Dear, dear—did I say that?
Hilda: Yes, you did. And when I asked how long I should have to wait, you said that you would come again in ten years—like a troll—and carry me off—to Spain or some such place. And you promised you would buy me a kingdom there.
Hilda has come to collect her kingdom. Solness talks to Hilda about his frustrations, how his ambition has kept him from having a satisfied life. He is aware of the suffering he has caused his wife in his rise to power. Nearly twelve years ago their home was burned to the ground, killing his two children and emotionally crippling his wife. But this tragedy gave Solness the chance to prove himself as one of the finest builders ever. Now after all these years, he has built a new house for himself and his wife. Nearly complete, the house has a tall tower that both Solness and his wife fear is too great for him to climb in the dedication ceremony. But Hilda convinces him that he can make the climb, and he should build her a castle in the air. Solness climbs to the top of the tower, but only to fall to his death.
Ibsen is too often played gloomily, but this adaptation of The Master Builder was all irony and humour. The production attempted to confront the script, to challenge it, to show the violence and sexual tension in the interpersonal relations underneath the words and the superficial decorum of the characters.
Throughout the play, the physical actions of the actors are in disjunction with the dialogue. In the opening scene, Kaja Fosli (Solness’ bookkeeper who is engaged to Ragnar) literally throws herself at Solness, wrapping her legs around his waist. He pushes her away. She rolls across the stage and runs back to him. He grasps her and takes off her jacket. The movements are kept deliberately clumsy to show the animal physicality of their relationship. Kaja admits that she has fallen deeply in love with Solness, but the master builder only pretends to reciprocate her affections to ensure that she, and thus Ragnar, do not leave his company.
A number of other interventions are added to the script that serve both to contemporise it and set it in an Indian social context. The mise-en-scene of the play places it firmly in Bengal—costumes, sets, music—though the characters retain their Norwegian names and most of the lines are in English. Every now and then Bollywood songs blare in the background, something that Bose perhaps uses to highlight the relevance of the situations, characters and emotions that Ibsen created in a vastly different milieu. But the execution of the idea is on the wrong side of literal. The sequence where Solness tells Hilda about the fire that burned down his house, they break into a dance routine straight out of Om Shanti Om, to the song of the same name, while the screen behind has flames on it. In another sequence, Halvard kneels in dirt while stagehands bring in a pedestal fan, place it before him and throw dry leaves in front of it so they fly all around Halvard to the accompaniment of “tadap tadap ke iss dil se aahein nikalti rahi” from Hum Dil De Chuke Sanam. These tableau-like sequences do not go well with the rest of the production and seem forced.
Aline’s character is introduced with an invocation of Lakshmi, the Goddess of prosperity and domesticity, as she performs her daily worship wearing a red sari and elaborate gold jewelry. But through the course of the play, it is this very image of domestic fulfillment that collapses under examination. The underlying violence in their everyday routine peaks in the scene where Solness and Hilda sit down to breakfast, buttering endless slices of bread that Kaja brings in. As their conversation gets frenetic, they throw slices on each other, and Kaja keeps bringing more of them.
Ritual is used to enhance the tragedy in the play and it works well. In the closing scene, an elaborate shraddh (a death rite) ceremony is set up on the stage while Solness packs his bags in a corner. Once the tableau is complete—everyone is in white clothes, holy fires lit, funeral scripture being recited—Solness lies on a bier and is carried off the stage. Throughout this sequence, characters perform their respective duties mechanically, without even a hint of emotion, emphasising the emptiness and triviality of rituals. In contrast, Solness deliberates over packing his suitcase, contemplating which ones of his perfumes, aftershaves and hats to carry, neatly folding and ironing his shirts. This is a ritual in its own right—carried out with intensity.
For this odd, eccentric play to come alive on stage Solness’ role needs to be persuasive, and transcend the limitations of time and setting, which is no small acting challenge. Souptic Chakravarty is unable to pull off the nuances of his part and his Solness doesn’t seem fascinating enough to merit all the passion.
Chakravarty and Anindita Ghosh (in Kaja’s role) were clumsy delivering dialogue. It sounded jarring. They seemed uncomfortable in their characters, as if they were repeating someone else’s lines.
Trinea Nileena Banerjee had a difficult role as Hilda Wangel but she portrayed it with deep understanding. She was vulnerable yet imposing, seductive yet sympathising.
Bose never developed Kaja’s character, in compliance with the way Ibsen treated it, keeping her only to reinforce Solness’ power and influence.
Swapna Dey, in Aline’s part, spoke only in Bengali and it only enhanced her performance. Dey played the naïve, duty-bound Bengali housewife with control and credibility.
The production works in parts because Bose provides a nuanced understanding of Ibsen’s play while steeping it in the uniquely Indian context.