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MEET HEDDA GABLER FROM VAL CANIPAROLI’S IBSEN’S HOUSE

Cassidy Isaacson as Hedda Gabler in Val Caniparoli's Ibsen's House

Cassidy Isaacson as Hedda Gabler in Val Caniparoli’s Ibsen’s House

By company dancer Connie Flachs

We continue our series of introductions to the famously strong female characters of playwright Henrik Ibsen that appear in Val Caniparoli’s Ibsen’s House in Extremely Close April 12-14 at Peter Martin Wege Theatre.

Here we are introduced to Hedda Gabler from the 1890 four-act play.  Hedda Gabler is among Ibsen’s most famous works. It would be diminutive to describe this play as a drama about a housewife: The title alone demonstrates Hedda’s reluctance to assimilate into her husband’s family. Instead she clings to her aristocratic background. Hedda appears powerful but has little true agency. She strives, through manipulation and desperate acts, to influence the other humans in her midst. The play examines the struggle for existential meaning within societal boundaries as well as explores the neuroses of the human psyche.

The sound of gunshots catches you off-guard as you approach the newly purchased, stylish manor of Professor Tesman (played by company dancer Steven Houser). You don’t often come to this refined part of town, but he had asked you to meet him to go over a recent homework assignment. You wonder how he affords this home on the modest salary of a research fellow. Not to mention his recent six month extravaganza of a honeymoon. Rumors say his wife Hedda Gabler (played by company dancer Cassidy Isaacson) – now Hedda Tesman – demanded the trip. Perhaps as a reparation for marrying below her means? Some had believed the daughter of the famous general would never settle on a husband.  You’ve spent many hours snickering with your peers over the absurdity of the match between Tesman’s earnest but exasperating bluster and Hedda’s class and glamour.

Another gunshot snaps you out of your reverie. The door to the manor swings open and the maids ushers you in to the expansive and beautifully decorated drawing room where Hedda herself sits, polishing a pistol, surrounded by fragrant bouquets.

“The professor will be down shortly.  Hedda will entertain you as you wait,” she informs you, and scurries off.

“Welcome,” Hedda says, fixing you with a piercing gaze. “Please sit down.” You make a move towards the chair furthest from the gun she still holds.

“Oh, not there, please.  Sit closer to me.” She pats the sofa next to her. You sit, tentatively, close enough to notice that every ten seconds or so her placid profile is marred by a twitch of the eye.

“So, Tesman tells me you’ve been incredibly helpful in his latest research.  You may even be part of the reason he has nearly secured his promotion.  I suppose I must thank you for your contribution to my husband’s work.” You nod, mutely.

“Well, I expect you used all your words on the research paper.” Hedda sighs disdainfully and rises to place the gun back in its display case.  She stays by the window, gazing blankly out.

“The flowers you have here are beautiful,” you babble nervously to fill the silence. “Gifts, I expect?  To celebrate the marriage of two souls newly in love?”

“HA!” Hedda snorts, and then regains her composure so quickly you are left wondering if you imagined the exclamation.

“Some do call it love…” she responds vaguely. “But lets talk about you.  What do you busy yourself with? Riding?  That was a favorite past time of mine as a child.  The freedom of it! Or perhaps shooting?  Another favorite.”

“No, no.  I don’t care for that at all.”  You shrink from her, hoping it’s imperceptible.

“Nonsense!” She says cheerily, her eyes suddenly gleaming.  “You’ll love it. Here!”  She retrieves the gun and places it in your hands, standing over you.  “See?  Do you feel the sense of control?  Doesn’t it feel powerful?”

“Hedda!” The professor’s voice rings from the corridor.  “What are up to with our guest?” You breathe a sigh of relief as Hedda removes the gun from your grip.

“We were just experimenting, George.  Something a little out of the ordinary.  Something of interest. For once.”

“Ahh, my Hedda.  Isn’t she lovely, uh?” He moves to kiss her cheek and misses as she pulls away and returns to her post at the window.  “Ah, well… Now, come to my study, we’ll talk about that paper.”

He ushers you into his room. Before the door closes you turn to catch a glimpse of this stunning and frightening woman.  She stands straight and poised, a picture of elegance apart from her arms, crossed in front of her chest, fingers clenched and nails digging into the flesh beneath her fine dress, as though fighting against a visceral scream.

For tickets to Extremely Close, call 616.454.4771 x10 or tap or click here.

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MEET REBECCA WEST FROM VAL CANIPAROLI’S IBSEN’S HOUSE

grand rapids ballet extremely close dance michigan
grand rapids ballet extremely close dance michigan

Madison Massara as Rebecca West in Val Caniparoli’s Ibsen’s House; photo by James Sofranko

By company dancer Connie Flachs

We continue our series of introductions to the famously strong female characters of playwright Henrik Ibsen that appear in Val Caniparoli’s Ibsen’s House in Extremely Close April 12-14 at Peter Martin Wege Theatre.

Here we are introduced to Rebecca West from the 1886 four-act play, Rosmersholm.

Rosmersholm was almost titled White Horses, to represent the ghostly specters referenced throughout the play whenever disaster threatens. Indeed, Ghosts would also have been appropriate if Ibsen had not already used that title in his previous work. Much of this play deals with the influence previous actions and people from the past have on one’s present. Rosmersholm further explores ethics and morality and questions whether they can exist outside a highly codified structure such as religion.

You sit in Johannes Rosmer’s (played by company dancer Josue Justiz) grand living room under the gaze of the stern family portraits lining the walls. You are struggling to keep your own gaze from darting to the mill-race just visible outside the window on your right. The whir of the mill and the splashing water threaten to conjure an image of the story you read in the papers nearly a year ago: Mrs. Beata Rosmer, in her fragile mental state, jumping over the railing in a last terrible exercise of agency.

In spite of your best efforts, Rebecca West (played by company apprentice Madison Massara) notices your straying eyes and rises to gently close the curtains. You shudder suddenly: The lack of sunlight combined with the morbid theme of your thoughts casts an eerie gloom over the room.

“We miss Beata dearly, Johannes and I both,” Rebecca states in a matter of fact manner.

“May she find peace in heaven,” you offer, embarrassed by your inability to hide your distraction.

A non-committal “Mm,” is all you receive in return from Rebecca.

“So, you’ve lived at the Rosmer residence for a while now?” You ask, to break the uncomfortable silence.

“Yes, indeed. Beata was so unwell, another lady of the house was a necessity. And Johannes and I have become quite close. He is a great thinker, a man of upstanding character. We have been following the debates happening in town with great interest. In fact, the papers just declared his alignment with the liberal cause. And, you know, he has left the church after his many years as a pastor. The laws of religion no longer govern his life. Nor do they govern mine, but I grew up in the passionate embrace of life, in the whirlwind of secular pleasures. And indeed, I’ve mellowed under the influence of the Rosmer rationality and nobility. But I’ve influenced him Johannes in return. His abandonment of the church went against the values the Rosmers have held for centuries. The existence of God has been unquestionable throughout the generations that live in this house. But times are changing now, rapidly, and we must look for the ultimate truth. The world is vast and quickly moving towards an era of free thought.”

“Ahhh…” you respond, struggling to process this speech. Women in town rarely put forth their opinions so blatantly, especially such heretical notions. You grapple for a response.

“You say and Johannes are close? Is there a celebration to be had?”

“Oh no. No no, nothing like that.” For the first time Rebecca’s unflappable nature seems shaken. “We have lived together as close friends, with great affection. If you must know – he recently proposed. But I couldn’t accept. No no. It’s not for me to take that role. Even if I do love- Even if I do respect him dearly.”

“Mm, well. I see. So…” The conversation is officially out of your realm of comfort. “Would you be so kind as to allow me to take a walk? I could use some fresh air.”

“Of course. Please, take your time. You can leave your coat and things here if you like.”

You exit to the garden and feel a rush of emotions flood over you as you step into the now blindingly bright sun. Laughter at the absurdity of Rebecca’s radical notions. Then tears of confusion at the emotionless calm around Beata’s death. It’s as though the house, steeped in the composure of Rosmer tradition, had suppressed your ability to feel this deeply. Shaking your head to clear your mind, you realize you have no desire for re-entry, not even to gather your belongings, and hurry away from the home, leaving behind the whir of the mill.

A few weeks later a knock on your door interrupts your work. The Rosmer’s maid, Madam Helseth stands on your steps, jacket and briefcase in hand.

“Oh how kind!” You exclaim. “I’m so sorry to have inconvenienced you, I truly meant to-”

Madam Helseth bursts into tears.

“Gone!” She sobs. “Gone like Beata. They both jumped over the- Oh I can’t even speak it! I can’t. If they had just married. They were so in love. I heard them whisper of it. But it would have been a marriage based on guilt. After Rebecca urged Beata to end her own misery she could never have taken her place in good conscience. And Johannes would have been haunted by the disapproval of his ancestors. But is death better? Is it better? Perhaps the truth is that peace is only found in that final rest. Yes! YES!”

You grab her shoulders, trying to calm her down.
“They had such IDEALS,” she screamed, hysterical.
“Shhh… shhh…” you whisper soothingly.
“They couldn’t do them justice. And now – NOW! The dead wife has taken them,” she gasps, and faints in your arms.

For tickets to Extremely Close, call 616.454.4771 x10 or tap or click here.

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What It’s Like to Dance in The Nutcracker

The Nutcracker Grand Rapids Ballet Michigan
The Nutcracker Grand Rapids Ballet Michigan

The Nutcracker Snow Scene | Choreography: Val Caniparoli | Production Design: Chris Van Allsburg & Eugene Lee | Photo: Ray Nard Imagemaker

By Grand Rapids Ballet Apprentice Jade Butler

The Nutcracker is simultaneously the most enjoyable and exhausting part of any professional dancer’s season. Growing up at Pacific Northwest Ballet School, I performed in The Nutcracker for a decade straight. Over those 10 years, I danced in two separate productions: those choreographed by Stowell & Sendak and George Balanchine. I remember performing in my first show and watching the more advanced students dance while I was in the prologue sharing a part with Cassidy Isaacson (now a company dancer at Grand Rapids Ballet).  They danced to immensely powerful and joyous music; they got to dance in the Snow Scene! But Waltz of the Snowflakes was my favorite; just hearing the orchestra and the beautiful music was enough to set my eyes on ballet as a career. The violins being plucked, paper snowflakes gently falling, opera singers singing the sweet melody, and ballerinas twirling in frosty blue and white tutus never fail to raise goosebumps on my arms.

After my first experience with The Nutcracker, I set a goal for myself: I would dance the Waltz of the Snowflakes one day. Eight years of hard work later, I finally reached my goal during my second to final year at PNB School as part of the Professional Division program. I twirled in a frosty blue and white tutu and felt the snowflakes fall upon my crown-laden head while listening to the orchestra grow and swell to the sound of the iconic waltz. With stage lights illuminating the expensive stage and the audience still, holding their breath as the even beat of the waltz grew stronger and stronger. Let me tell you, it was awesome!

Waltz of the Snowflakes is hands down the most challenging part in The Nutcracker when it comes to pure stamina and mental strength. For instance, in Grand Rapids Ballet’s production choreographed by Val Caniparoli, I spend less than one minute offstage during the seven-minute run time of Waltz of the Snowflakes. Talk about your daily cardio: my Apple Watch tells me it is almost equivalent to a mile and a half run.

In 2008, when I performed in my first Nutcracker at PNB, I had only one part and performed in just over half of the 45 scheduled shows. As I matured in age and experience, I performed in most of the shows doing multiple parts. My most current tally over thirteen years? Over 500 shows, three different productions, 15 parts, and countless hours of rehearsal.

All of this sounds wonderful and joyous right? And it is. But putting The Nutcracker on stage also includes seven-day work weeks and long nights in the theater. December is the holiday season for most, but for dancers it also includes sewing countless pointe shoes, trying to catch your breath after running the Snow Scene for the third time that day, and eating dinner while icing your feet and nursing your sore muscles. But, the joy that is brought to young children and their families alike in the holiday season makes it all worth it.

The experience of dancing in The Nutcracker remains just as magical to me as it was as a young ballet student. And now, as one of the “big kids,” I strive to make every audience member’s experience as transformative as my own.

Val Caniparoli’s The Nutcracker would not be possible without YOUR support! Become a season subscriber or donate today to help us continue doing what we love. Until next year, happy holidays and thank you for supporting Grand Rapids Ballet!

 

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