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Taking a solitary stand
Perspectives
Theatre Taking a solitary stand Henrik Ibsen’s prescience about capitalist greed, political intolerance, and sexual inequality generated notorious controversies in his own era. Rebecca Lenkiewicz’s savvy, stylish adaptation of An Enemy of the People ensures that the play still makes for a powerfully unsettling night out. In An Enemy of the People, Ibsen’s sympathies are certainly for physician Thomas Stockmann, played by Boyd Gaines, whose fearless pursuit of the truth is never less than riveting. Stockmann, the local doctor and public medical officer of a Norwegian town, has discovered that the spa waters are mixing with contaminated effluent from the tannery and spreading lethal disease and infection, explaining the recent cases of typhoid. Stockmann intends to publish his findings in a report, demand the closure of the baths, and insist on major restructuring. Gaines brilliantly captures Stockmann’s eruptive energy, his conviviality, his naivety, and his utter determination for justice. Stockmann’s path is, however, blocked by his brother, Peter, the Mayor who suppresses the report, arguing that closure will mean the financial ruin of the town. Greed and short-termism win out, and support for the doctor evaporates;
2012 Joan Marcus
An Enemy of the People Henrik Ibsen. A new version by Rebecca Lenkiewicz, directed by Doug Hughes. Samuel J Friedman Theatre, New York, USA http://www. manhattantheatreclub.com/ production/enemy-people
1730
so-called liberals metamorphose into oppressors and censors, and the Mayor, along with the local newspaper editor, Hovstad, are instrumental in ensuring that the town brands Stockmann “an enemy to society”.
“Rebecca Lenkiewicz’s savvy, stylish adaptation of An Enemy of the People ensures that the play still makes for a powerfully unsettling night out.” The portrayal of the newspaper editor’s craven failure to publish what is in the public interest hits its target. Hovstad’s chameleonic switches of allegiance are cleverly enacted by John Procaccino, who strikes an avuncular note of a man sorely overworked, radical only among friends, and who feels obliged to give his readers what they want. His betrayal of Stockmann is all the more horrible because Procaccino has made us like him, and he seems so reasonable. Courage to go to print with the report would alter the course of events entirely, but Hovstad doesn’t want to put himself at risk. During the public renunciation of Stockmann—an electric scene—the director, Doug Hughes, has Hovstad shout him down louder than anyone.
Stones are thrown through the doctor’s windows, and he, his wife, and children are ostracised. Stockmann, however, refuses to be hounded out by the “wolves” who have all but destroyed him, and vows that he will continue to speak out. Desperate but dignified at the end, Stockmann stands by his broken study window, the golden daylight streaming in, and delivers the famous line to his wife and daughter: “the strongest man is always alone”. It is a wrenching moment in this production and expertly played by Gaines. Ibsen based the play on events in Teplitz in the 1830s, when the medical officer of the spa town made a public announcement about an outbreak of cholera, and was forced into exile. In our own times narratives of corporate greed and dereliction of public duty resonate profoundly. Richard Thomas plays the Mayor as a man who is as ruthless in his self-promotion as he is in his exploitation of the powerless. The way that Thomas adopts a series of stiff, mechanical manoeuvres and gestures to impress his authority on others is highly effective. We are initially invited to laugh at him, and the director sweeps us along by having the other characters laugh at him too. But as the audience sees how he is willing to threaten and destroy, our laughter dies slowly over the five acts and is replaced by horror and revulsion with the realisation that the town has been condemned by political ego and blind, economic self-interest. This is an extraordinarily astute and contemporary production. The tragic narrative of the hero who battles against the odds, at tremendous personal cost, to persuade those in power that there is such a thing as an ethics of responsibility and welfare towards others, is strikingly familiar.
Mary Luckhurst www.thelancet.com Vol 380 November 17, 2012
Theatre Taking a solitary stand Henrik Ibsen’s prescience about capitalist greed, political intolerance, and sexual inequality generated notorious controversies in his own era. Rebecca Lenkiewicz’s savvy, stylish adaptation of An Enemy of the People ensures that the play still makes for a powerfully unsettling night out. In An Enemy of the People, Ibsen’s sympathies are certainly for physician Thomas Stockmann, played by Boyd Gaines, whose fearless pursuit of the truth is never less than riveting. Stockmann, the local doctor and public medical officer of a Norwegian town, has discovered that the spa waters are mixing with contaminated effluent from the tannery and spreading lethal disease and infection, explaining the recent cases of typhoid. Stockmann intends to publish his findings in a report, demand the closure of the baths, and insist on major restructuring. Gaines brilliantly captures Stockmann’s eruptive energy, his conviviality, his naivety, and his utter determination for justice. Stockmann’s path is, however, blocked by his brother, Peter, the Mayor who suppresses the report, arguing that closure will mean the financial ruin of the town. Greed and short-termism win out, and support for the doctor evaporates;
2012 Joan Marcus
An Enemy of the People Henrik Ibsen. A new version by Rebecca Lenkiewicz, directed by Doug Hughes. Samuel J Friedman Theatre, New York, USA http://www. manhattantheatreclub.com/ production/enemy-people
1730
so-called liberals metamorphose into oppressors and censors, and the Mayor, along with the local newspaper editor, Hovstad, are instrumental in ensuring that the town brands Stockmann “an enemy to society”.
“Rebecca Lenkiewicz’s savvy, stylish adaptation of An Enemy of the People ensures that the play still makes for a powerfully unsettling night out.” The portrayal of the newspaper editor’s craven failure to publish what is in the public interest hits its target. Hovstad’s chameleonic switches of allegiance are cleverly enacted by John Procaccino, who strikes an avuncular note of a man sorely overworked, radical only among friends, and who feels obliged to give his readers what they want. His betrayal of Stockmann is all the more horrible because Procaccino has made us like him, and he seems so reasonable. Courage to go to print with the report would alter the course of events entirely, but Hovstad doesn’t want to put himself at risk. During the public renunciation of Stockmann—an electric scene—the director, Doug Hughes, has Hovstad shout him down louder than anyone.
Stones are thrown through the doctor’s windows, and he, his wife, and children are ostracised. Stockmann, however, refuses to be hounded out by the “wolves” who have all but destroyed him, and vows that he will continue to speak out. Desperate but dignified at the end, Stockmann stands by his broken study window, the golden daylight streaming in, and delivers the famous line to his wife and daughter: “the strongest man is always alone”. It is a wrenching moment in this production and expertly played by Gaines. Ibsen based the play on events in Teplitz in the 1830s, when the medical officer of the spa town made a public announcement about an outbreak of cholera, and was forced into exile. In our own times narratives of corporate greed and dereliction of public duty resonate profoundly. Richard Thomas plays the Mayor as a man who is as ruthless in his self-promotion as he is in his exploitation of the powerless. The way that Thomas adopts a series of stiff, mechanical manoeuvres and gestures to impress his authority on others is highly effective. We are initially invited to laugh at him, and the director sweeps us along by having the other characters laugh at him too. But as the audience sees how he is willing to threaten and destroy, our laughter dies slowly over the five acts and is replaced by horror and revulsion with the realisation that the town has been condemned by political ego and blind, economic self-interest. This is an extraordinarily astute and contemporary production. The tragic narrative of the hero who battles against the odds, at tremendous personal cost, to persuade those in power that there is such a thing as an ethics of responsibility and welfare towards others, is strikingly familiar.
Mary Luckhurst www.thelancet.com Vol 380 November 17, 2012