Review of ‘A Doll’s House’ (2026, Almeida Theatre): “Modern remake toys with an interesting concept, but the pathos is porcelain cold”

Ibsen’s classic returns to the London stage in a contemporary adaptation by Anya Reiss. Guillermo Nazara shares his views on the show to let us know if its powerful plot ends up handled like a ragdoll.

I’ve experienced a few eye rolls when discussing the premise of this adaptation. For purists, the tiniest change to a classic is considered sacrilege. And that is a sin they punish by not giving any of these contemporary remakes the slightest chance. I’m all for new versions of old works, as long as they capture the ethos of the material and justify their raison d’être by providing a reading, vision, or some sort of innovation that the original piece couldn’t deliver to a compelling extent.

There’s a healthy mix of substance and barrenness in the Almeida’s latest reimagining of A Doll’s House, which opened last week to not-so-enthusiastic applause- at least, from my end -and whose modern-day rearrangement of Ibsen’s social themes does not convey the same impact, transgression, and thought-provoking quality the play did during its inaugural run.

Penned by Anya Reiss and directed by Joel Hill-Gibbins, the story travels from Norway to presumably West London- the posh accents gave a few clues -, where an elated Nora is cluttering her living room with Liberty bags filled with expensive Christmas gifts.

She has every reason to be so cheerful. After years of struggle, her husband’s business has finally taken off, and it’s been sold for a considerable amount. Despite such good prospects, her spouse, Torvald, warns her not to spend so much until the money is in the bank. Ironically, he doesn’t know how sound his advice is, as the smoke screen is hiding the ugly background of their success.

To keep the company afloat, Nora had illegally transferred part of a client’s money into their account. And although she’s done all sorts of jobs to pay it back, they’re swamped in debt. Torvald isn’t aware of it. That is, until a vengeful ex-employee decides to take matters into his own hands.

The script displays the same skeleton as Ibsen’s masterwork. As a result, the drama is still gripping, despite its slow-burning pacing. Yet, some crucial character-development aspects and side plots are missing a few joints. And eventually, the recount comes out somewhat spineless.

The problem lies in the imbalance between Nora’s options and the decisions she makes. The original play was written at a time when gender roles were strictly defined and constricted — even by law.

Nora resorts to a similar strategy, forging her father’s signature so she can get the loan they need (Torvad’s declining health is saved by a stay in Italy and its gentle weather). She commits a crime, but there’s nothing else that she could as women were not allowed to borrow money without a male signature. Our understanding of her actions is immediate- especially by today’s standards-. And consequently, we can’t help but root and feel tremendous empathy for her.

Albeit Reiss’s Nora also acts out of desperation, the absence of those societal restraints makes her less sympathetic and complex. Of course, her deeds were still well-intended, as Torvad’s delicate business situation required immediate intervention. And the fact that he was hospitalised at the time prevented Nora from telling him the truth. Yet, the character loses some of her antiheroic essence by not breaking the chains she’s unfairly bound to. Consequently, her footprint dissipates significantly. And so does the pathos.

The same applies to the supporting roles, whose arcs are often rushed and sketchy. Dr Rank’s tragic plight- as he’s in the last stage of pancreatic cancer -isn’t tackled with the profundity we could only expect, and which should be its main purpose as a narrative element. Kristine’s attempts to legitimise her marriage to a man she didn’t love are rational but sterile. And her relationship with Nils is so vacuously explored that it barely causes any effect. In addition, the ending feels hurried and leads to a weak, empty climax that screams a need for further, extensive development.

For the most part, the performances are adequate, and a few excel thanks to their nuanced approach and effortless flair. Romola Garai delivers a powerful portrayal of Nora, which brims with emotional potency and galvanising presence. Some choices in her execution are questionable. And some may consider them flawed, as her deliberate stuttering of lines, Jeff Goblum style, comes across as a bit of nuance rather than reinforced realism.

On the other hand, James Corrigan earns the highest praise as Nils, regaling viewers with an extraordinary rendition of the troubled character, defined by the contradictory humanity of a broken individual, who, rather than behaving as a villainous archetype, is instead just trying to survive.

Like with every great author, bringing an Ibsen play to life is the equivalent of unscrewing a matryoshka — there are layers and layers to it, and they all must be honoured for the piece to come together and ultimately work. This reinterpretation occasionally shines, but there’s not enough polish or craftsmanship to be considered a dolled-up accomplishment. Narratively speaking, it’s a bit of a dummy.

All pictures credit to Marc Brenner.

A Doll’s House plays at London’s Almeida Theatre until 23 May. Tickets are available on the following link.

By Guillermo Nazara