Mad skillz on the translating work from the original Henrik Ibsen play, Wallace Shawn. Now, I don’t mean to quibble. I mean, I certainly can’t read Norwegian, but, um, you know these things come with subtext, too, right? Otherwise, it’s just words on a page.
The unfortunately titled A Master Builder — a classic example of a straight translation in need of a modern update — feels like a night stuck in community theater … one where maybe you have to pee, but you’re sitting in the front row. It’s overlong, confusing and egregiously directed and acted. I can’t guess motivation in any scene, and it doesn’t matter because my personal motivation is the film ending, the sooner the better.
Writer/Translator/Producer Wallace Shawn miscasts himself in the title role. He sits on his deathbed being a long-winded ass. Act I is basically a series of endless nothing conversations from the convalescent barcalounger of Master Builder Halvard Solness (Shawn). He stonewalls on passing his legacy along because, it seems, he wants to take it with him. A handful of Americans with Scandinavian names (Knut, Aline, Kaia, Ragnar) show up to plead for Halvard to take positive action somewhere while Halvard balks. Then he seems to suffer some sort of attack, but by Act II, he’s up and about. thank.goodness.
I suppose I should qualify that. Halvard is up and about all right, but his first guest is a beautiful young woman nobody recognizes named Hilde Wangel (Lisa Joyce). Now, get this, so it looks like he had a heart attack, and the next scene he’s greeted by this beautiful newcomer all in white with a name of “Wangel.” Subtle.
Now if I thought the conversations in Act I were long, I had no idea. Halvard and Hilde never shut up. It takes her almost 30 minutes to get at a false plot point — something about sexual assault when she was 12 and the Master Builder visited her town to erect a church. But as their reactions don’t match the dialogue, I’m pretty sure the literal translation fails here. Of course, it’s difficult to tell — Wallace Shawn is hardly up to being the town idol and Lisa Joyce is among the worst actresses I’ve introduced to all year. Her reaction to almost anything is a surprised laugh as if random words are a suddenly discovered delight.
Luckily, I can sum up all the pain one moment: Halvard and Hilde go the window to check out one of the towers the Master 
Builder has erected. Not only is there no tower; I think this thing was filmed in a weekend on a “For Sale” lot when the realtor was out-of-town. Yes, not only no tower, but Wallace and Lisa are clearly looking in different directions. Nobody bothered to set up even a token outside the domicile so that the actors knew where to look. And nobody edited or refilmed the scene.
I can only hope this snoozefest was more meaningful to the 19th Century Norwegians it was written for. I blame you not, Henrik; I’ve read your stuff before — it wasn’t this bad. Not even close.
Wallace examined the original in full
But the translation found plenty of dull
With the film not winning
Now Ibsen’s spinning
Shawn’s work blew? Inconceivable!
Rated D for dull, 130 Minutes
D: Jonathan Demme
W: Wallace Shawn
Genre: The joy of Ibsen
Type of person most likely to enjoy this film: The late Henrik Ibsen, perhaps.
Type of person least likely to enjoy this film: Set designers
