Peter Gynt at the Edinburgh International Festival thinks itself a “raucous reboot of Ibsen’s epic play” but ends up being little more than a tepid production of what could have been a moving new work.
Peter Gynt, written by David Hare and directed by Jonathan Kent, follows the titular antihero in a magical realist journey through his life while exploring human nature in relation to individualism. Co-produced by the festival and the National Theatre of Great Britain, Hare adapts the groundbreaking 19th century play Peer Gynt by Henrik Ibsen into a more contemporary setting, with Gynt and his hometown no longer in Norway, but in Scotland. The play follows Peter through his days as a young man at home, traveling to Florida, what is only referenced as “North Africa,” and the sea before coming back home in old age. Unfortunately, Peter Gynt is just like its protagonist, too self-absorbed to get anywhere beyond mediocre.
The sensational tech is the highlight of the show. The set and lighting are detailed and vivid enough to invoke very different geographical locations through as something as simple as a projection change. The raked area of the stage, which serves as the Scottish countryside during the first three acts, becomes a sand dune, a golf course, and a stormy sea with no physical change beyond lighting cues. However, the technical aspects of the show are nowhere near enough for the rest of the show to be forgiven.
This satirical production often wimps out on leaning into more scorching political commentary. Peter is not meant to be a good person, but he is at least sometimes relatable as a flawed human being during his time in Scotland. As the production runs on, clocking in at almost three and a half hours, Peter becomes less of a human and more of borderline caricature. James McArdle’s performance as Peter, nuanced and charming during the first three acts, quickly devolves into constant yelling and unintentional camp later. McArdle fails to regain empathy by the time his lonely end comes around.
A production presented as self-aware, it fails to be radical in its own right. The ambient magical realism, the most appealing aspect, is ruined by one-liners serve to remind the audience that this not just any play, but a “woke” play, clashing with the mid-20th-century costume design. While making cheeky jokes about Trump, low-hanging fruit at this point in time, the production continues perpetuating the oppression that those political figures symbolize. Sabine, the girl Peter almost assaults at the beginning of the play, bizarrely decides to spend her life with him isolated from the rest of the community before being abandoned. Kent’s thoughtful (although bare-minimum) casting of actors of color as immigrants and Saudi Arabians backfires when these ensemble actors are almost always the only ones being shown hanged, dismembered, and bloodied.
Towards the end of the fifth and final act, the Button Moulder asks Peter for a list of sins as he prepares to melt him down into his ladle, rather than send him to Heaven or Hell. Despite all of the sins he’s committed, it isn’t enough for Peter to be cast down into Hell. In fact, he is declared “mediocre,” even though his flaws are far from normal.
Peter Gynt has the potential to be genuinely disturbing in relating Peter’s egotism to contemporary politics, but neither Hare’s writing nor Kent’s directing are strong enough to truly condemn individualism. If a killing, clout-chasing, proto-incel like Peter can’t get into Hell, then the audience might want to a repent a bit more before the Button Moulder comes around.