Review of ‘Ghosts’: “Grave matters don’t spirit away in this still haunting reimagining”

Ibsen’s masterpiece relives on the London stage through this modern-day interpretation, playing at the Lyric Hammersmith until next month and starring Callum Scott-Howells and Victoria Smurfit. Guillermo Nazara shares his views on the show, to let us know if this new revision manages to capture the author’s essence or turns out to be an embarrassing spectre-cle.

Nobody’s a saint. That’s why I think of me as closer to a god. But certainly, Ibsen’s criticism of the sanctimonious morality of his time still echoes through ours – and probably at a higher volume than many would like to admit. Ethics evolve, mindsets change – but the human condition remains exactly the same. We are all flawed, imperfect – and those who some voices call heroes are regarded as monsters in the eyes of others.

Writer Gary Owen shows a good understanding of this concept in his modernized adaptation of the stage classic, which opened last night at the Lyric Hammersmith Theatre. Featuring a star-studded cast led by Victoria Smurfit and Callum Scott-Howells, the story moves from Ibsen’s native Norway to the present day in an out-of-London house. We don’t have priests (we may have phased them all out by now, to be honest), but we have lawyers. Oswald is no longer a painter, nor does he have congenital syphilis. Instead, he’s a self-entitled actor (why do I feel like I didn’t need the adjective?) currently struggling after some brief success on the big screen.

The result almost grasps a full triumph. The narrative resonates with a contemporary audience on many levels. Utilizing a lot of dark humour, the core themes of Ibsen’s oeuvre are, nonetheless, well preserved. His reproval of the corrupted self-righteousness of his era still lingers through Owen’s lines. The whole endeavour is a work of redefinition and relocation. What stirred viewers of the time now adopts a different form to follow the same purpose. But, perhaps, part of that slam has been lost in translation – at least, to some extent.

Owen flaunts compelling skills in terms of storytelling. Regaling us with an exceptionally poignant first act, his craftsmanship for structure, rhythm, and dialogue is undeniable. There is so much richness in his script – deep, stimulating, and extremely credible. Ibsen’s plot depicts dysfunctional relationships based on secrets and lies. The turns could easily veer into the melodramatic if not handled with sufficient control. But that’s where Owen’s command of the piece really shines.

Still keeping the engagement high during the second half, the recount’s impact is however blemished by an absence of proper pacing towards the end. Everything is resolved too quickly – with a few key scenes missing to build up the necessary tension that, in this version, only flashes before us. Simultaneously, the play isn’t able to permeate to the same degree during its conclusion – opting for a more blissful alternative that walks away from Ibsen’s open and emotionally striking finale. It could have functioned, should the characters’ arc have been completed more intricately. But the way it’s presented leaves us with a mild feeling of void.

Directed by Rachel O’Riordan, the visual take on the piece is a definite highlight in the production. Featuring a sterile space wrapped up in a dense fog, combined with the haunting presence of the father lurking all around, the ambiance, supported by Simisola Majekodunmi’s subtle lighting, accentuates the account’s icy undertone rather well – serving as an extension of the personages’ plights and inner journeys.

The entire company makes a remarkable effort in their delivery – all of them, boasting great chemistry and rapport in their renditions. Callum Scott Howells excels in his performance of Oswald – with an approach to the role that’s not as sympathetic as previous incarnations, but which anyway exudes fire and verity all throughout.

At the same time, both Rhashan Stone and Deka Walmsley give absorbing interpretations as Andersen and Jacob – put together with arresting stance, strength, and energy. Victoria Smurfit manages to convince in her portrayal of Helena. It might seem wooden at some moments, but as the narration unfolds, the layering of her performance comes forward – and her choice to convey a stoic act becomes more justifiable. There are some reactions that could still benefit from more heart. But in the end, her execution feels quite untarnished.

I was shocked to have laughed so much at an Ibsen play. And so would have been the offended spectators that scathed its original run. Yet, the obscurity that gleams all through this masterwork kept hovering around from start to finish. Though not as piercing and provocative as its source material, Gary Owen’s revision of Ghosts is likely to win audiences over through an interesting, touching, and occasionally punching exploration of the human soul. It’s true that aspects of the author’s piquancy could have made a less volatile apparition. But, on the whole, his sharp bite has materialized strong enough in this latest gathering.

All pictures credit to Helen Murray.

Ghosts plays at London’s Lyric Hammersmith until 10 May. Tickets are available on the following link.

By Guillermo Nazara