The Master Builder review: Greg Hicks unravels in Ergen's solid Ibsen

Greg Hicks plays a master builder quietly coming apart, and the Arcola's new Master Builder works because of it. Director Mehmet Ergen stages Henrik Ibsen's 1892 drama in modern dress, in a new translation by David Edgar that compresses three acts into two.

The result is reassuring. Last year's West End version, translated by Lila Raicek and starring Ewan McGregor, tried feminist revisionism — well intentioned, oddly conceived. Edgar stays closer to the original in form and spirit, and builds his strengths on the psychology of an ageing, anxious man whose fall from worldly acclaim is both real and symbolic.

What is the story?

Halvard Solness (Hicks) clings to his place in the world. He is plagued by midlife insecurity and by Ragnar Brovik (Ryan Wichert), the protégé he perceives snapping at his heels. Then Hilde Wangel (Louisa Binder) arrives — a young woman claiming the "kingdom" Solness promised her when she was 13.

Edgar draws out the intimacies and tensions with a deft hand. The ending stays enigmatic; the otherworldliness grows. Yet Ergen's production keeps everything solidly of this world. Hilde reads as real and as a symbol of Solness's past — or a consequence of it.

The #MeToo subtext sits in Solness's amnesia. He claims to have forgotten their encounter; Hilde brings the memories back. The kisses he gave her as a girl are queasy to hear about. The flirtation between them now is queasier still.

How do the performances land?

Hicks is animated, almost antic — a man at the height of worldly pomp, inwardly unravelling. It's a precise piece of physical work.

Binder is marvellous. She swaggers, almost falsely, and runs rings around him. Sally George is very believable as Aline, Solness's wife, forever grieving their dead twin children and well able to see his emotional infidelities with the women floating around him, including office assistant Kaja (Jade Williams).

Does the ending satisfy?

Not entirely, and arguably by design. The drama hits against the limits of Ibsen's strange, static story. Should we admire or condemn Solness? What of Hilde's final triumphalism as she watches him fall from his tower?

The puzzle might be fate. It might be the personal cost of success. It might be an Icarus-like comeuppance for a middle-aged man in thrall to a younger woman. This production does not feel like a tragedy, and you don't feel for Solness or his fall.

But then, were you ever supposed to? That question — left hanging by Ibsen, respected by Edgar — is exactly what keeps this revival worth the argument on the way home.