For all the ways it anticipates the women's movement, I would argue the enduring appeal of "A Doll's House" has less to do with its gender politics than its very specific story about this woman standing up to this man.
Henrik Ibsen had a fondness for desperate housewives, and populated many of his plays with them. Nora might be his most famous, caught in a marital trap from which she brazenly extricates herself in the play's final scene. So what happens if you pluck the story from its 19th century Norwegian setting and move it to, say, 1962 Manhattan?
That is the potentially fascinating premise for this Infamous Commonwealth revival, which has embraced a time and place that happens to have firm grip on our imagination these days (hello, "Mad Men"). There's a lot to chew on here — Betty Friedan's seminal book "The Feminine Mystique" would be published just a year later. Why not stick "A Doll's House" into this cultural stew?
But the reason the play works — why it has always worked — is because it is the story of one marriage, not an indictment of all marriages. You don't want a show banging you over the head with its gender politics. You want it to make you to think. And that, unfortunately, is not the case with director Chris Maher's overly stilted production.
Maher doesn't truck much with nuance (although a terrific Josh Atkins, as the blackmailing bank clerk Nils, is a notable exception.) With every chauvinistic remark played for its clumsy shock value, not enough focus is given to the central relationship at hand.
Despite all that, for much of the play Kate Cares holds her own as Nora. She is pretty and clever and flits around the room as if to stave off any kind of self-examination. All the same, you sense the panic. That's a bang-on interpretation, even if Cares is nowhere near convincing in the pivotal final scene, when the scales have fallen away from Nora's eyes. The moment has zero impact, which is a problem — the power of the play lies in the person she becomes.
Not that Stephen Dunn's Torvald gives her much to work with. His performance lacks the kind of sex appeal that might complicate matters. What we get is a two-dimensional scold who delivers condescending lines such as "That is just typical of a woman" as if both Dunn and director Maher had repeatedly underlined the words in their copies of the script.
It's a risk to play Torvald as a person with valid feelings of his own, the guy is an enormous jerk, but in theatrical terms the play doesn't work unless you can sell him as something more than an insufferable prig.
After all, Nora bears some responsibility for this lousy marriage, even if the world has largely conspired against her. When Torvald crushes her near the end, the moment is empty — largely because it is the same note Dunn has played all along, and Cares appears unsure how to portray Nora's all-important shift. There she is, suitcase in hand, neither shell shocked nor assessing her surroundings anew. She leaves in a banal huff and the moment has a whiff of soap opera to it. And 1962 or not, there's nothing interesting about that.
When: Through Feb. 27
Where: The Greenhouse Theater Center, 2257 N. Lincoln Ave.
Running time: 2 hours, 15 minutes
Tickets: $20 at 773-404-7336 or infamouscommonwealth.org