A silent piano. A motionless swing. A frozen river.

Three features of Tom Piper’s minimal set which say so much about the dissatisfied Noras in Stef Smith’s time-hopping adaptation of A Doll’s House for the Citizens Theatre at the Tramway and so much about the struggle faced by girls and women – since Eve was a lass!

Fun and freedom filed away in a box marked “duty”. Or as one of the three Noras (Anna Russell-Martin, Maryam Hamidi and Molly Vevers who double as the long-lost and more liberated friend Christine) put it in a rousing address to the audience: “Everyday women sacrifice their honour for men.”

Another image which lingers long in the memory and is dramatically reversed later in the play is when each of the Noras fall on their knees at the feet of their respective husbands (all played by Tim Barrow) and plead with him to keep a blackmailing widower (Michael Dylan) in employment. And it is on their knees they return as they offer themselves to the third and final male character (Daniel Ward) who shares their ache for “skin on skin” TLC.

Much like the “sad and sullen” Christmas tree which belies the “warm and welcoming” promise of their homes, each nurses an emptiness which they temporarily alleviate with “a little rush of rock and roll” in the form of sugar, pills and booze.

Trapped in a loveless marriage, shackled to the responsibilities of motherhood (one wishes to “undo” her children) and isolated from the societal shifts of their respective generations (women winning the vote, the legalisation of homosexuality and abortion, and the introduction of the contraceptive pill), Stef Smith does an excellent job of weaving together multiple threads into a rich and absorbing tapestry which is directed with clarity and purpose by Elizabeth Freestone.

Though some of the passages stand out as a series of didactic proverbs rather than character-driven exchanges. And the first half running time of an hour and a half drags; in stark contrast to the snappy second which is much more explosive.

Towards the end, the triumvirate vow to make a dramatic change in their personal circumstances. A change which they urge girls and women to embrace – and boys and men to expect. The piano remains silent, the swing remains motionless and the river remains icy cold. But in the words of Sam Cooke: a change is gonna come.

Peter Callaghan
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