A midlife crisis has devastating consequences in “The Master Builder.” This should surprise no one since the 1892 play is by Henrik Ibsen, a Norwegian not known for rom-coms.
But the production that opened last night at BAM has a crisis dealing with that crisis — John Turturro’s a fine actor, but here he doesn’t show much affinity with Scandi angst. He just doesn’t convey the sense that his character, Halvard Solness, is a tortured soul.
Halvard is a big deal in his small town, having erected many of its houses and churches, yet he prefers calling himself a builder rather than an architect. “I’m not qualified,” he says. “All I know, I’ve picked up on the job.”
Halvard looks imposing and confident, but inside he’s a mess.
His relationship with his wife, Aline (played with nice tartness by Katherine Borowitz, Turturro’s real-life spouse), has been irreparably damaged by the death of their infant twins, 12 years earlier.
Halvard blames himself for the tragedy, but also believes it cleared the deck for him to focus on his work. He’s convinced that he has special mental abilities that allow him to control events and people — “the power to want something, to wish for it enough, to will it into being.”
And despite his achievements, this self-made man feels under threat, especially by those who are younger.
Halvard’s balancing act is beautifully symbolized by Santo Loquasto’s set — the action takes place in the skeleton of a house, tilted forward at such an angle that it looks as if it’s about to fall.
The delicate equilibrium is thrown out of whack by the arrival of the boldly flirtatious Hilde (Wrenn Schmidt). She first met Halvard 10 years ago, when she was 13 and he kissed her — or so she says. Now she’s back for more.
The most interesting gambit by director Andrei Belgrader (2008’s “Endgame,” also with Turturro) is to explore the suggestions of Halvard’s impotence. Our builder couldn’t or wouldn’t give his wife more children, and likely neglects her in bed. He only pretends to lust for his fetching bookkeeper (Kelly Hutchinson).
And while Hilde admired his high, hard church steeples, Halvard gave up on them after losing his children. Even the set’s house is at half-mast.
Key to the play is how this affects the relationship between Hilde and Halvard.
Her lack of inhibition suggests a little girl in a woman’s body, but while she’s a force of life, she also brings destruction.
Schmidt has a seductive guilelessness as Hilde, and bravely bends herself into the pretzel poses Belgrader makes her take. But she and Turturro have little chemistry: We don’t buy Halvard’s fatal attraction.
Without that, “The Master Builder” lacks a sense of tragedy — its foundation is too shallow.