Three "divas' do Ibsen and Wilde in New York

When would you ever expect to read about Oscar Wilde's The Importance of Being Earnest and Henrik Ibsen's John Gabriel Borkman in the same review? What could possibly unite these polar-opposite classics— the former a scintillating satirical comedy and the latter an operatic tragedy of Wagnerian magnitude— other than that they were coincidentally written within a year of each other (1895 and 1896, respectively) and that by chance they're both currently playing in New York?

One answer is: great divas giving the kinds of performances that entice you to brave storms (worse than Ibsen's Norwegian ones) to come to New York and see them. Larger-than-life, tour-de-force performances are being offered by three lionesses of the English-speaking stage: Fiona Shaw and Lindsay Duncan as the twin Norwegian ice queens Gunhild and Ella in John Gabriel Borkman, and the renowned 75-year-old classical actor Brian Bedford (yes, Brian, and no, this is not a typo), as Lady Bracknell, the empress of Wilde's Victorian era. Their performances are revitalizing tried-and-true classics that you may have seen before and might want to overlook this time around. But don't "“ you're in for a great treat as well as new insight into two great plays.

With her Medea in 2002 and Winnie (in Beckett's Happy Days) in 2008, Shaw has already established herself in America as a classical actress of uncommon power and charisma. Duncan is equally admired"“ both for her demonic portrayal of the Marquise de Merteuil in Les Liaisons Dangereuses (originating on the West End and earning her a Tony nomination on Broadway in 1987), and for her role of Amanda in Noel Coward's Private Lives that won her a Tony Award here in 2002. (Interestingly, in both the above-mentioned, Duncan appeared opposite Alan Rickman, who also plays Borkman in the current Brooklyn production).

Unbearable intensity

John Gabriel Borkman, Ibsen's penultimate melodrama, boasts an intricate plot with a rich, complex back story and a triple-piston dramatic engine (greed, lust, power) that drives this gripping classic to its horrific conclusion. It involves no less than four love triangles, a shocking crime, turbulent power struggles, incest, adultery, domestic violence and a splendiferous final snowstorm that swirls all these elements together. The intensity is almost unbearable at times— and no, there isn't a single laugh, although, honestly, you don't miss it, because so much else is happening.

The plot, in brief, is this (bear with me— you'll need to know it to appreciate Shaw's and Duncan's splendor): John Gabriel Borkman, a megalomaniacal bank manager guilty of swindling his bank's clients, has returned to the family home after eight years' incarceration, only to lock himself in a second-floor room for eight more years.

On the first floor of that same house lives his wife, the terminally bitter Gunhild, who won't see her husband and whose only reason for living is her son Erhart, who had been raised by her twin sister Ella during the terrible years of Borkman's trial and imprisonment. The ailing Ella (who owns the house, and was formerly Borkman's lover) returns, and a deadly conflict ensues between the twin sisters, who once vied for love over Borkman and now struggle for power and control over the young Erhart.

Icy images

As Gunhild, Shaw stalks the frigid stage like a lioness guarding her last stronghold. Her body, rigid with rage, is encased in an iron-colored period dress, reflecting the rigor mortis of her soul and the steeliness of her resolve to guard the last elements of her domain"“ her parlor and her son.

"I'm always cold" is one of her first lines, and indeed, the bleak snowscape that covers the bare stage (plus a few furniture pieces, representing her parlor/prison) reflects the ice inside her. "A sick wolf is there, upstairs, above my head," she rasps bitterly, speaking of her criminal husband Borkman. It could be Ruth Madoff's lament over Bernie Madoff's crimes.

Enter her twin sister Ella (Duncan), dressed in stark black, her white-blond hair intensifying the darkness, and the bitter confrontation ensues. Ella is terminally ill from a medical ailment as deadly as Gunhild's terminal case of rage.

Love rekindled

More acutely, Ella has suffered from loss of love"“ Borkman's, whom she longed to marry, and Erhart's, whom she has raised and lost. She calls herself "an empty desert," but now, she says, her love for Erhart is rekindled, and she wants to reclaim him and adopt him legally before she dies.

"I can't bear the emptiness and the loneliness," she laments. But while she professes her capacity for love, Ella, like her sister Gunhild, becomes frozen too in this battle to the death. At the end of the play, the two ice-sisters stand together on an empty stage, swept by a violent snowstorm. All has been lost to them "“ except each other.

Gunhild and Ella may not be household names like Ibsen's eponymous heroines Nora and Hedda. But once you see these twin ice-queens in their gridlock battle unto death, you may feel otherwise.

Bedford in drag

On the other hand, from the moment Lady Bracknell sweeps on stage in The Importance of Being Earnest, you can't stop laughing. I suppose it's always been thus. After all, it's a marvelous role, so brilliantly crafted that it's almost foolproof.

I saw Judi Dench play the role in the 2002 film version (with Colin Firth and Rupert Everett), and yes, she was excellent, as always. It's also been played successfully by Maggie Smith, and numerous other dames and divas of the English stage.

But in the Roundabout's current production, the astonishing accomplishment of Brian Bedford's performance is its absolute truthfulness and (forgive me) earnestness. That the role is played by a man"“ well, it's simply of no importance. There's not a hint of camp in this spot-on performance; you buy it utterly.

Rules for cucumber sandwiches

Although Lady B appears in only two scenes, Bedford dominates the production as the fierce guardian of Victorian society and its rigid rules, from eligibility rules for bachelors to the rituals of engagement to the type of cucumber sandwiches served at teatime. Bedecked in a shimmering blue/black dress with a gigantic blue and aqua sequined hat, so top-heavy that it looked like it might topple her over, Bedford-as-Bracknell earned applause and a gale of laughter that kept on erupting as Wilde's immortal lines cascaded one after the other.

During Lady Bracknell's famous interrogation of John Worthing (who is courting her daughter Gwendolyn), we held our breath with anticipation of the famous dialogue to come. "In matters of great importance, style, not sincerity, is the vital thing," Bedford-as-Bracknell uttered with a seriousness that assured us we were in the hands of a consummate artist. When Worthing admits that he was an orphan who was found in a railway station, and Bedford replies in a low deadpan voice: "Found?" followed by an even lower-voiced "In a handbag?", the audience's anticipation was rewarded with the precision of Bedford's delivery.

Absent-minded nanny

Bedford (who also directed) surpasses our expectations in the final scene as well. In his/her equally spectacular second entrance, clad in fire engine red brocade and a flaming red hat, Lady Bracknell appears to be twice as large as before. Throughout her stern interrogation of the absent-minded nanny who put baby John Worthing in the handbag years ago, Bedford's jowly face never cracks a smile. His underplaying, comedic timing, clarity and precision are a marvel to behold.

"The first act is ingenious, the second beautiful, the third abominably clever… exquisitely trivial, a delicate bubble of fancy," Wilde once said of The Importance of Being Earnest. Pleasing the very same public he was satirizing brought Wilde great pleasure. No doubt Brian Bedford's unparalleled performance would have brought Wilde pleasure, too.♦


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