The past comes knocking, as Pangdemonium tackles the resounding fallout from the dramatic decision made by one of Ibsen’s most iconic heroines.

Nora Helmer is perhaps one of theatre’s most iconic heroines of all times, famed for daring to fight back against oppressive, conservative Norwegian society by walking out on her family, slamming the door behind to pursue her independence, in Henrik Ibsen’s A Doll’s House. But walking out into the unknown guarantees nothing, as American playwright Lucas Hnath posits in his sequel the lingering question – what unfinished business might she have left behind?

Playing in Singapore for the first time, Pangdemonium’s Timothy Koh takes on Hnath’s A Doll’s House, Part 2, which picks up 15 years after Ibsen’s original, where Nora returns home to formalise her divorce from Torvald, only to find that there’s plenty that has remained unresolved, and these people from her past have more than a passing bone to pick with her. From the moment one steps into the Victoria Theatre, A Doll’s House, Part 2 wastes no time in establishing itself. The set immediately commands attention—a grand yet sparse space, its parquet flooring and marble textures reflecting both an opulent past and a cold, unyielding present. It is a home, yet not quite, symbolising how it has been completely stripped of its warmth, and our focus lies completely on the energy emanated from the actors and their performance.

Then comes the knock. The door is opened by the Helmers’ maid Anne-Marie (Neo Swee Lin), and there stands Nora (Jo Kukathas), poised at the threshold of the past she abandoned. It is a striking image—one that encapsulates everything this production does so well, with director Timothy Koh having crafted a minimalistic production that homes in on bringing out the script’s potential for emotional complexity from the actors. With only two chairs as stage props, the play places immense weight on the actors, their body language, and the intricate shifts in conversation.

But before even a word is spoken, Leonard Augustine’s costumes set the stage for the characters’ dynamics. Swee Lin’s Anne-Marie is dressed in an ostentatious, richly layered Victorian outfit—true to the time period, but also a reflection of her station, where how even the maids are made to dress well in wealthy households, as an extension of the family’s prestige. In contrast, Jo Kukathas as Nora cuts a different figure—her dark dress, accented with deep purples, signals a woman who has risen in status but remains an outsider in this world, now wealthy, and strangely out of place in this household. Then there’s Torvald (Lim Kay Siu), who asserts his authority when he enters in a full suit, bright purple vest, and sharply ironed collar, the subtle use of purple suggesting a connection between him and his former wife that transcends their conflict.

A Doll’s House, Part 2 is poised as a dramedy; sharp and cutting in its humour, which often disarms and unsettle, and creates a war of words between the characters, who weave in and out of these tonal shifts between the comedic and dramatic effortlessly, creating a rich and layered experience for the audience. The tension between Nora and Anne-Marie is palpable from the outset. The moment the door opens, there is friction—an unspoken, shocked ‘why are you here? ‘, with Anne-Marie caught between resentment and obligation, hesitant to take sides but unable to hide her true feelings. Timothy’s blocking of the actors speaks volumes—Jo’s Nora is positioned at odds with Anne-Marie, standing apart, as if held back by invisible walls of the past. Jo’s Nora initially seems a little unsure of herself onstage at first, choosing her words carefully and pacing herself, as if taken aback by this anger at her unwelcome appearance, slightly uncertain over the correct response, but grows in stature and more commanding as the play goes on, finding the confidence to see it through.

These ideas of contrast representing conflict continue throughout the play, and the physical positioning of characters shifts with their relationships; Anne-Marie and Nora claim opposite corners of the stage, symbolising their ideological differences. On the other hand, Torvald and Nora move closer when their conversation demands intimacy, their proximity a painful reminder of what was and what remains unresolved. And then there is the daughter Emmy (Rebecca Ashley Dass), standing throughout her scene—firm, unshakable, and a visual representation of her confidence and defiance the new generation is possessed by. What also makes this production particularly engaging is how the actors fully embody their characters beyond just dialogue. Swee Lin’s facial expressions convey volumes—every flicker of hesitation, every restrained emotion making her performance deeply affecting. Jo plays Nora with controlled precision, her every pause and inflection charged with meaning. Timothy’s direction ensures that the long stretches of conversation never feel static, with movement and silence given as much importance as the words themselves.

At the heart of the play lies the question of how there are disparities between genders, where there are simply some things in society that women cannot achieve as easily as men due to existing structures and perceptions. When Torvald enters, his presence immediately shifts the energy in the room. His well-tailored appearance, his measured tone—everything about him exudes control. The conversation is less about legalities and more about power, and the characters fighting for dominance and determining who exactly is right. Yet, within all this conflict, there are moments of understanding. Not agreement, but a recognition of each other’s burdens, where characters learn to concede with each other and see from each other’s perspective (after the initial rage and arguments), respecting their individual struggles.

When Nora’s daughter Emmy enters, it is immediately clear that she is a product of a different world. Her dress is modern, luxurious—a reflection of the life she has grown up in. But it is her demeanour that sets her apart. She speaks with absolute confidence, with an unwavering certainty that no one has ever been able to silence her. Unlike Anne-Marie, who is shaped by past grievances, and unlike Nora, who is fighting to reclaim her own agency, the daughter sees herself as free from all of it. But is she? She too plays the game—clever, strategic, and ultimately, the one who proposes the best solution to Nora’s predicament. She is engaged, and her fiancé’s future is intertwined with Torvald’s. The optics of the situation matter. She needs Nora to disappear.

Among the actors, Swee Lin has one of the most outstanding moments, with Anne-Marie’s searing outburst. A rage that has been simmering beneath the surface erupts, shaking the very foundations of the conversation. It is a moment that reminds us that Anne-Marie, in many ways, has lost more than Nora, left behind to pick up the pieces, to deal with the fallout, and now, years later, forced to confront the woman who walked away. And in that, there is something devastating. She is confident, she is independent, yet she too is bound by societal expectations, by the mechanics of power that dictate her future.

Torvald’s final act is, in many ways, his most manipulative. He recounts reading Nora’s book, how difficult it was to get through and how hard to read it was, only for Nora to retort that it was even harder to live it. Then, in what seems to be an act of closure, he tells her the divorce is done and dusted, and taken care of. Yet there is always the sneaking suspicion and shadow of a doubt that he is not to be trusted, and we are left to wonder: has he truly granted her freedom, or has he simply orchestrated the final move in their ongoing battle for control?

Pangdemonium’s A Doll’s House, Part 2 shows off what director Timothy is becoming known for – restraint and precision in bringing a demanding, dialogue-heavy play to life. Certainly, some moments could have been pushed further, and some transitions could have carried more weight. But the strength of the performances and the clarity of Timothy’s direction make this a gripping, compelling piece of theatre, where the minimalistic staging makes us lean in, investing in every tiny glance or the pauses between words. The performances, especially Kay Siu’s problematic and angry Torvald, and Swee Lin’s deeply expressive Anne-Marie, ground the play in raw, lived-in emotion, you feel the impact left behind.

In its concluding scene, after all the chaos, the play ends in a moment of stillness. Jo Kukathas slumps into a chair, like a marionette whose strings have finally been cut. There is exhaustion, but also a quiet triumph, as she finally prepares to leave this house once more, the place that gave her so much grief, ready to go and let go of all the baggage she has carried with her. Amidst all these words being fired from all fronts, this is a play that encapsulates how unresolved conflict becomes a driving force for pain and trauma, and that sometimes to truly leave the past behind, you have to re-open those doors again, and face your feelings head on, before burying it once and for all. The door opens, and we see mountains stretch out before her—a vast, open world waiting beyond the walls of this house. She walks out of this house for the second and last time, and Torvald watches her go without resistance, no pleading, only acceptance, and Nora is finally ready to truly build a life for herself, no longer tethered to burdens that weighed her down, free at long last.

Photo Credits: CRISPI

A Doll’s House, Part 2 runs from 7th to 23rd March 2025 at Victoria Theatre. Tickets available here

Production Credits:

Director Timothy Koh Playwright Lucas Hnath Cast Jo Kukathas, Neo Swee Lin, Lim Kay Siu, Rebecca Ashley Dass Set Designer Eucien Chia Lighting Designer James Tan Sound Designer Jing Ng Costume Designer Leonard Augustine Choo Hair / Wig Designer Leong Lim