Lila Raicek takes her title from the final words of Henrik Ibsen’s play and borrows quite a lot from it, but it is offered as a new play, not as an adaption or updating.
Her Henry Solness, like his Halvard, is a successful architect, a Brit in the US with a swish home in the Hamptons (elegantly styled by Richard Kent with views of blue sea and windswept beach lined with long grasses) while his wife, now called Elena, is a successful publishing executive. Henry, once hailed as a star in the architectural firmament but now less self-assured, is played by Ewan McGregor, back on stage after 17 years' absence, and sharp-tongued, unforgiving Elena by Kate Fleetwood.
Henry has been responsible for a new chapel nearby, his pyramid-inspired replacement for one destroyed by fire ten years ago, a fire which also claimed the life of his young son. That is a death for which Elena still blames Henry.
It is the eve of the July 4th and the unveiling of the new chapel building. Elena has a dinner planned to which she has invited his former assistant, and now rival, Ragnar (David Ajala), who is just back from Nigeria and talking of building in eco-friendly seaweed. She has also invited high-flying journalist Mathilde (Elizabeth Debicki, memorable as Princess Diana in the Netflix The Crown), who has a back-story with Henry on which Elena knows she has based a novel of which Elena has seen the manuscript.
The sight of Mathilde reawakens a ten-year-old passion in Henry, while Elena has her sights set on Ragnar—who is already having an affair with her assistant Kaia (Mirren Mack).
Whether it is Ragnar flaunting himself in swimwear or Elena and Mathilde gowned full-length in slinky silk, this is world of competitive people, unforgiving and lustful, where McGregor’s Henry, aware of his age, seems disadvantaged. None of these people is seems really likeable. Henry seems a sad figure set against the rest of them. He may be pretentious—calling his chapel a “star shafted portal from life into the celestial afterlife,” his unconsummated relationship with young Mathilde “the bright star in the dark tunnel of my life”—but, despite the highfaluting language, he is nearest to gaining my empathy.
This is a play devoid of dramatic action until its very end, but there is a succession of intense confrontations when the air sizzles and the audience is held in the silence. Its satirical picture of arty East Coast society comes to glitzy life in Michael Grandage’s production and provides quite a few laughs, and its cast unleash some high-powered performances, but it feels too contrived to be moving. If only the script had the subtlety of Paule Constable’s lighting. The echo of Ibsen impedes rather than helps it.