The linen costumes look swell, the mountainscape backdrop is both beautiful and foreboding, yet Richard Eyre’s third Ibsen adaptation here still comes across as a strikingly contemporary vision of a marriage turned disaster area. In that regard, it slips easily into the Almeida’s recent run of shows: the relatable domestic realities of its Oresteia, the strong hint of Islington divorce drama in its Medea. Yet though this is not as haunting as Eyre’s adaptation of Ghosts, or for that matter as forceful as his Hedda Gabler, this 80-minute slice of domestic tragedy is like a sharp, concise short story that swells in the memory the moment it ends.
Written in 1894, Little Eyolf is a feast for Freudians. Alfred Allmers, a