pastiche

Rereading Ibsen's viking tragedy in search of the howlingly bad lines I half remember, the ones lifted not so much wholesale but at prices as low as 60% off from Iceland's worthiest sagas, I am surprised to find fewer of them this time. I am more surprised to be caught fast again by the painful plot: Ørnulf asking after his son, unable to understand why the others are so pale and silent ... why does he not come to greet his father? Hjørdis seeing the glint of happiness that could be hers after all and despite everything and, full of hope in this scene alone, grasping for it. Sigurd denying, denying, convincing no one but ensuring a rending denouement.