so hilarious, so poignant, so daring, and so dense - teeming with life - the characters speaking their characterization - and such beautiful characters - and so wacko

Many find Ibsen difficult to understand. I certainly did. However, by reading The Wild Duck, I was introduced to an entire new world of symbolism and creative writing. Like the master he was, Ibsen paints a portrait of a family, representing all of us, living on a lie. Cruelty in our midst, innocent victimes and pragmatists losing to the vindictive, it's all there. The touches of comedy and tragedy just increase the impression that it does concern us, that really, he's looked into our lives and seen our lies, although hopefully in a less extreme version. And don't we all know a Hedvig, a Gina, a Hjalmar and a Gregers? Maybe there's something of the all in all of us... The book sucks you in, creeps under your skin and stays there, along with the horror, the anger and the sympathy you feel while reading. In my opinion, one of the best examples of Ibsen's less romantic period of writing.

Ibsen's philosophical "message" in this play disturbs me. I don't think I agree with Dr. Relling that each of us needs his own brand of self-deception to cope with life. Certainly Hialmar Ekdal is content enough, and hilariously funny as an lazy fool who thinks he's a creative genius in photograhy, a breadwinner to his wife and daughter, and a martyr to his father's scandalous past. Alas, his friend Gregers Werl points the way to the truth, that Hialmar is deceived about everything in his life. It would all be comical but for the fact that Hialmar's daugher Hedvig, who is probably not his daugther at all, shoots herself as proof of her love for Hialmar. So, Ibsen seems to say, here the truth has cost a young girl's life, an unbearable tragedy but for the fact that she was going blind. Well, no doubt there is cost in knowing the truth about oneself and about others, no doubt there are things we prefer not to know, and no doubt there are people like Hialmar who are impervious to truth. But there are also people like Hialmar's wife Gina, and Dr. Relling himself, who know the truth and who hold up nobly and well. For at least these, I think Ibsen should recommend truth in large doses, and perhaps he does.

This book is a collection of reviews, essays, and personal opinions that Mr. Brustein wrote during 1959-1965. It is an excellent resource for directors wanting to tackle shows that premiered during this time period. It also demonstrates his uncanny ability to "critique" a dramatic work in the way that it should be, rather than merely stating a "review". Mr. Brusteins specificity for the English language and his committment to excellence in theatre, starting with the drama itself, is an intellectual oasis for those of us wanting to read scholarly criticism from a educated source. I recommend this book for those students just starting out in their Dramatic Theory and Criticism studies so that they may understand what it truly means to be a critic in the true sense. Others more advanced with their studies should read it as well to be reminded of what we all should be striving for: quality theatrical expression in a world of boxoffice driven commercialization. Mr. Brustein was one of the founding members of Yale Rep and also the American Repertory Theatre at Harvard.

An incisive look at the works of eight "playwrights of rebellion" since the birth of the modern theater. It is author Brustein's contention that western drama has moved from the "theater of communion" in which works are performed which reinforce the beliefs of the audience (and society), to a "theater of revolt" in which plays are produced which attack the values of the audience (and society.) Each chapter focuses on the life and works of a particular playwright, examining how he used drama as a means of critiqing his societal milieu, whether that criticism came in the form of a political ideology (Brecht), an aesthetic sensibility (Genet), or a metaphysical ontology (O'Neill, Strindberg.) What is of particular interest, albeit somewhat troubling, is Mr. Brustein's perception that each playwright was at his best in toppling conventions, but none was terribly adept at providing solutions to the problems they perceived. For example, it was in his "messianic" phase as a writer, heavily under the influence of Nietzche, that Eugene O'Neill wrote such flat and unsatisfying fare as "Lazarus Laughed." It wasn't until he gave up trying to provide solutions to life's problems, and instead concentrated on thoroughly exposing the nature of those problems that he produced such masterpieces as "The Iceman Cometh" and "Long Day's Journey Into Night." Overall, Mr. Brustein's book is an absorbing account of the continuing artistic struggle in the modern theater to locate meaning by forcing western society to question what it believes and why.