National Theatre Oslo

Stand on the paving stones in front of the steps and listen for a moment. Trams grind along the rails nearby. Trains rumble somewhere beneath your feet. Pigeons scatter across the square. Above all of this rises a pale, ornate façade, with columns, carved details and a copper roof that has turned soft green. This is the National Theatre, the Nationaltheatret, and for well over a century it has been the main stage of Norwegian drama.

Before we look closer, take in where you are standing. To one side, the long avenue of Karl Johans gate runs toward the Parliament building. On the other side, the slope rises toward the Royal Palace. Between them lies a strip of green park called Studenterlunden. The theatre sits right in this line, between king and parliament. That position was chosen on purpose. Drama was meant to sit at the centre of national life, not at its edge.

The building opened in 1899. At that time Oslo had a different name. It was called Kristiania, and Norway was not yet a fully independent country. It was joined to Sweden in a union under one king, and full independence came only in 1905. So the theatre came before the free nation. In a sense, it helped to imagine that nation before it existed on paper.

Here is the first surprise. For much of the nineteenth century, the main theatre in the capital was dominated by Danish. Norway had been ruled from Copenhagen for centuries, and many actors on the city's stages were Danish. They spoke Danish, too. Norwegian writers and audiences wanted plays performed in their own speech, by their own actors. This building became the answer to that wish. It gave the Norwegian language a permanent home on a national stage.

Now look at the two bronze figures in front of the building. They are Henrik Ibsen and Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson, the two giants of Norwegian literature in that era. The sculptor Stephan Sinding made both statues. Ibsen wrote plays such as A Doll's House and Peer Gynt, which are still performed around the world. Bjørnson was a playwright, novelist and poet. He also wrote the words of Norway's national anthem. Notice how differently the two men stand. Compare their postures and their expressions before you move on.

The two men had a long and complicated relationship. They were rivals, friends, and at times critics of each other. Later, their families were joined when Ibsen's son married Bjørnson's daughter. There is another family link to this building. Bjørnson's son, Bjørn Bjørnson, became the theatre's first director. So the Bjørnson name was present here from the very first season, both in bronze outside and in charge inside.

Now turn your attention to the architecture. The architect was Henrik Bull. He designed the building in a style that looks back to the grand theatres of Europe. You can see a strong Baroque influence. That means curves, rich ornament and a sense of drama in the stone itself. Look also for softer, flowing lines in some of the decoration. These details show the influence of Art Nouveau, a decorative style that was fashionable around 1900 and loved plant-like forms.

Let your eyes travel slowly up the façade. Notice the rhythm of windows and columns. Notice how the central entrance pushes forward, as if it is inviting you up the steps. The roof line is broken by small domes and ornaments, and the copper has weathered to green over the decades. On a grey Oslo afternoon, the pale walls and green roof stand out clearly against the sky. In winter, with snow on the ledges, the building looks almost like a decorated cake.

The second surprise is out of sight, below you. The railway and metro station under this square is named after the theatre. It is simply called Nationaltheatret, and it is one of the busiest transport stops in the city. Every day, thousands of people pass beneath this stage without thinking about it. Many locals use the name of the theatre to mean the station. So for many people in Oslo, the word Nationaltheatret means a train platform as often as it means drama.

The building has not always had an easy life. In 1980, a fire broke out and badly damaged the main stage. It took several years of work before the stage reopened in the mid-1980s. Like many old theatres, the building has needed repeated care. Old wiring, old machinery and heavy daily use all take their toll. Large renovation projects have been discussed and planned in recent years, so you may see signs of work around the site during your visit.

Inside, the theatre has more than one stage. The main auditorium is the grand space, with tiers of seats, gilding and deep red tones, in the classic European style. Smaller stages host more intimate and experimental productions. Performances are in Norwegian, so most visitors come to see the building itself. If you do attend a show, the main hall is worth the experience. The sound of a full house falling quiet before the curtain rises is the same here as in any great theatre.

Ibsen is still at the heart of the program. The theatre has hosted an international Ibsen Festival for decades, bringing companies from around the world to perform his plays. Directors from different countries stage the same old texts in new ways, sometimes faithfully, sometimes in radical form. It is a reminder that Ibsen's questions about marriage, money, truth and freedom still feel current. The man in bronze outside is not a museum piece here. He is still working.

Before you leave, step back across the square and look at the whole scene once more. Notice how the park, the trams, the station entrances and the theatre all fit together. People hurry to trains. Students sit on benches. Tourists take photos of the two bronze writers. Above them, the façade stays calm and ornate, as it has since 1899. The building was made to give a young nation a voice, and every evening the lights still come on for that purpose.

As you walk away, perhaps toward the palace or down toward Parliament, listen again. The tram bell, the rumble below, a few words of Norwegian drifting past you. That language was the reason this theatre was built. You are hearing it now, on the street, without any stage at all.