Ibsen's Ghosts

PLAY REVIEW: GHOSTS at York Theatre Royal

Why do we hide the truth when it shames us? How should we judge if an act is right or wrong? Should we judge at all? And who is this God fellow anyway?

Ibsen asks an awful lot of questions in Ghosts. In many ways it is a morality play, with a modernity that seems to transcend its true age (Ibsen wrote the play in 1881), forcing us to look closely at euthanasia, religion and the stifling strictures of tradition and duty. Life just isn't fun, Ibsen shouts over and over. We are made to do things we do not want to because we must, because society tells us we must. And this so true for us today. We may not all have heavy traditional religion breathing down our necks, as the Pastor holds his flock to account before God, but we are bound to work long hours, to produce perfect homes and families, to dress and live well, to keep up with the herd. We carry crosses of our own making, like Mrs Alving and the Pastor. For me this is the true value of Ibsen. Seeing one of his plays is like seeing a mirror held up to the imperfections of our world.

However, it would be false to assume that Ibsen only shows flaws, and that he completely throws out the concept of God. I think the character of Jacob Engstrand emerges as the true hero of this play. Ibsen even casts him as a carpenter, a clear echo of the Christ-like qualities Ibsen imbues Jacob with. Engstrand possesses a saintly thirst for self-sacrifice, willing taking the shame of having fathered a child out of wedlock, and more endearingly, being so moved by the plight of his wife, made pregnant by another man, that he agrees to marry her and bring up her child as his own, concealing her true paternity and thus sparing his wife. He begs the Pastor to let him take the blame for the destruction of the orphanage, an act which signals the destruction of the idol-father built by Mrs Alving, and the end of mother and son. The sacrifices of Jacob seem to reflect, to me, those made by Jesus in that we see the annihilation of the traditional image of God in the loss of the orphanage, a sweeping away of the old strict traditions, but at the same time the willingness of Jacob to take the blame conveys the coming of a new religion, one based not on law and duty, but on love. One line in particular strikes out, "How can I love a father I have never known?". There is such a depth of truth in that. The religion of the past, and particularly that of Ibsen's homeland, with its Lutheran bent, presents a cold, authoritarian God who is perfect in every way, but is so distant from his people. Ibsen explodes this concept, and in the fall-out presents the possibility of a more personal religion, a religion based on love and human self-sacrifice as illustrated in the character of Jacob.

This is not to say Jacob is without flaws. Ibsen deliberately makes Engstrand human, prone to vices like greed and inferred enjoyment of the lower pleasures. This is what makes Jacob so powerful. He is like us, he is human, and yet he is greater. Ibsen challenges us to better ourselves, but in a way we can relate to. His is not the sermon from on high, but a more individual human message. In Ghosts Ibsen pushes us to live as best we can, to seek to serve our fellow man and God while understanding we all have failings. We are left with two questions. The obvious moral dilemna of the morality of euthanasia, and the more subtle question of Engstrand's future. He leaves to set up a clean boarding house with the aim of keeping sailors away from immoral vices, but we cannot tell whether he will ever truly overcome temptation and become as good and alturistic as he intends. Ibsen has created an intricate exposition of the problem facing all humanity, and he ends with a question for us all; how do we do what is right?