Maaike Laanstra-Corn, David Patrick Kelly, Nick Westrate, Melanie Field, Alexander Hurt (Photo: Gerry Goodstein)

Joan Didion wrote, “We tell ourselves stories in order to live.” For Ibsen, in The Wild Duck he speaks of characters telling themselves “life lies.” The characters in the play are surviving and managing, holding things together in their world with small (and big) lies that preserve their mental and physical peace. But Ibsen unleashes upon this peace a toxic truthteller who wreaks havoc on not only the tranquility but a family by pulling at the bonds between them. Unravelling these threads, has tragic consequences.

TFANA and Shakespeare Theatre Company’s production of The Wild Duck was my first time seeing this play. It seems to lack the nuance that some of Ibsen’s better-known plays have. And if you know your Ibsen, you might spot the outcome coming a mile away—sorry but that that man has single-handedly educated me on all the ways syphilis ruins lives. That said David Eldridge’s adaptation of Ibsen’s play is equal parts funny, sad, and provoking. Simon Godwin’s production moves at a clip. And while the play is blunt, the heartbreak of tragedy remains intact.

In the play, Gregers Werle (Alexander Hurt) is home to visit his father Håkon Werle (Robert Stanton) after an extended absence. He is eager to catch up with his school friend Hjalmar Ekdal (Nick Westrate) whose family has fallen on hard times. Hjalmar’s father Old Ekdal (David Patrick Kelly) was once Werle’s partner but was caught up in an illegal scheme and has returned from prison ruined. But through Gregers’s father’s intervention the Ekdals have survived.

Hjalmar talks a big game about his work and an invention his pondering, but he barely manages to do much with the photo studio he is supposed to be running. Instead, his smart and frugal wife Gina (Melanie Field) runs the studio, makes the meals, manages the books, cares for Old Ekdal, and keeps everything afloat (while dancing backwards in high heels basically) while taking nothing for herself. Yet, Hjalmar is adored by his teen daughter Hedvig (Maaike Laanstra-Corn) and they eke out a life together.

The Wild Duck (Photo: Gerry Goodstein)

But when Gregers decides to enlighten Hjalmar about Gina’s past everything unravels much to Gregers’s shock. Gregers is a rich kid, mad at this father, who has never acted courageous in his life. But he decides to unleash his toxicity upon the unsuspecting Hjalmar in a cloak of arguing for living a life of true ideals. He sees truth-telling as his mission—and if his dad’s reputation gets ruined in the process, he’d probably be happy about that too.

He smashes things up and cannot believe why his troubles are not met with gratitude. He is quickly clocked by the oft-drunk Doctor Relling (a sublime Matthew Saldívar). He diagnoses Gregers with “Chronic Righteousness.” Gregers believes in some sort of moral purity that will liberate the soul (he calls it “the claim of the ideal”). But I guess he has not met actual humans before.

Gregers has this flavor of a know-it-all who applies his theories agnostically to everyone not actually realizing people are unique and different. The psychology of one cannot automatically be applied to another. Maybe if Hjalmar was a moral zealot this awakening would be what Gregers wants. But Hjalmar is a lazy, timid liar, and has lived off of so many others for so long that breaking him of his illusion does nothing but send him adrift. He is totally dependent on Gina but now he is meant to reject her or in Gregers mind nobly forgive her (wat?). But he is just sent into a tizzy. Gregers is an agent of chaos who does not stop with Hjalmar. His perpetual calls for sacrifice are hard to reconcile and start to drift towards the sinster even if he does not intend that.

This production boasts a mostly strong cast. Saldívar, as the bitter Relling, with his own loves and losses, is cut so deeply by what Gregers has done. In some ways, he is our avatar of outrage because it is hard not to want to punch Gregers in the face. Saldívar delivers his criticisms of Gregers with a sardonic tone and is physically broken by the tragedy that unfolds. He cries for all of us. It’s a beautiful performance.

Westrate is the puddle (complimentary) to Field’s strength. Gina is the glue that holds everything together and Field holds back what she cannot say until finally Gregers gives her no choice. But as Hjalmar is attempting to leave her, she knows where everything is kept, she steers him to staying, and you can see the flash of success across Field’s face as she thinks she has steered them back on course.

Hjalmar could easily just be a whiny pain, but Westrate digs deep and we can see that Hjalmar is broken by what has happened to his father and his escapism comes from a specific place.

David Patrick Kelly, as always, is a delight to see and his Old Ekdal is illuminated by his flights of fancy, his reverie of his hunting days, and is cut down to size when he remembers his new station in life. He moves through his post-prison life as a ghost of his former self. But in the world he has created for himself, he can survive.

There are some breathtaking elements to the production. In particular, lighting designer Stacey Derosier cascades gentle illumination through massive skylights in Andrew Boyce’s set. The tones shift from cool moonlight to sunbreak at dawn to a grim winter’s storm. Heather Freedman’s costumes give Gina a look of fitted armor in her plain gray dress compared to the wealthier Mrs. Sørby with furs adorning her dress. But the costume I will remember always is that of the senior Werle when he walks into Hjalmar’s house. He is wearing a massive fur coat and tiny sunglasses which he switches out for his eyeglasses. He comes in the door like an evil bear who is dead in the eyes and there is no mistaking how large he looms in this community as someone of wealth and power through this costume.

Godwin’s direction is also noteworthy. He carefully builds the outrage and the tension rachets up as Gregers needles more and more characters. The whole production feels like a small crack in a pane of glass. Once the fracturing begins it cannot be stopped. All we can do is watch until it shatters.