It's Christmas Eve, and it will depend...

I, too, was sadly underwhelmed when I read the conversation between Nora and Torvald about Krogstad (except actually about Nora because Nora and Krogstad are conveniently basically the same person) because it's as if it's not even trying to be subtle. Torvald tells Nora, "Just think how a man with a thing like that on his conscience will always be having to lie and cheat and dissemble; he can never drop the mask, not even with his own wife and children. And the children - that's the most terrible part of it, Nora...A fog of lies like that in a household, and it spreads disease and infection to every part of it. Every breath the children take in that kind of house is reeking with evil germs" (Ibsen 1701). Of course, Krogstad has conveniently committed the same crime as Nora, and Nora was just faced with the conflict of a "mask" by Krogstad a few minutes ago, and the reader has just read a touching scene in which Nora plays with her children, indicating how much she loves and values them and their well-being. Isn't that convenient? 
Though that total lack of even an attempt at subtlety might prompt the reader to eye-roll and write off the carefully executed plot, we have to remember that the whole point of dramatic irony is, in fact, the obviousness of the situation to the reader. That conversation between Nora and Torvald is all the more uncomfortable and significant because we, as the reader, understand what's really going on and the gravity of Torvald's haphazardly thrown out ideas about morality, values, and some weird theory that mothers have more capability to pollute a family than fathers. If we didn't know exactly what problem Nora was faced with during that very scene, we wouldn't really take care of what Torvald was saying. We wouldn't feel the tension that Ibsen creates by making such a painfully obvious and conveniently similar parallel situation.
Instead of devaluing works of literature such as these that contain such obvious and blatant examples of dramatic irony, completely set up by the author, just because they're so incredibly unsubtle, we should value them all the more because of the tension that the use of dramatic irony creates. A casual conversation between a husband and wife about the morality of an acquaintance of theirs becomes dramatically more significant with the use of the knowledge that Ibsen gives the reader prior to the scene, making it all the more valuable and tension-filled in context.

My perception of the dramatic irony in A Doll's House is a lot different than that in Oedipus. In Oedipus there's more of a direct this-is-what-is-happening feel because the main character is ignorant to what's happening yet the audience knows. However, in A Doll's House both the reader and the characters know what's happening currently; it's what's going to happen that the audience is more privy to than the characters. Because, as readers, we've read probably every basic plot line ever written we know there's only a few ways things will turn out for Nora and the Helmer's: they can have the Ending A ("Happy Endings") or they can have a variations on things-end-badly. Since happy endings rarely make it on the shelf of masterworks of literature, we can easily assume that Nora's perfect doll house family will crumble. Now, because the dramatic irony in the story is different in this way, I think it's completely normal for Ibsen to lay out Nora's situation in more of a plain way. When they present the facts easily, then the reader doesn't need to work to find it and instead can focus on Nora's reactions to the situation. When that happens the reader notices how Nora attempts to fool herself into believing she can overcome her problems, that once the harsh winter passes "Then spring will soon be here, and blue skies... when you're happy, life is a wonderful thing" (1691). Ibsen uses a multitude of metaphors (money, seasons, dollhouses, sweets, shopping etc) throughout act I to show what's wrong with Nora and what will hurt her. These can easily be over looked if the reader had to spend the entire time trying to figure out what's happening with Nora and Krogstad. I think that "suspending your disbelief" is helpful in this story because you can focus on how Nora, as a character, develops and the important meanings in the story that Ibsen is displaying. 

P.S. I read this play over the summer and I really really like it

I concur with Ana.The audience and Nora are the only ones that really understand the situation, which makes it all the more heartbreaking because we're witnessing Nora crumble under these silly expectations set up for her as she battles between satisfying her husband and doing what's best for her children. I think the use of dramatic irony paints her in a more sympathetic light, because in terms of how Torvald address her,(My pretty little pet is very sweet, but it runs away with an awful lot of money...) we're made to think she shouldn't be taken very seriously; as if she's a doll, living in a doll's house.

P.S I won't be putting down those macarons! Ils sont mon favorit...

Finding meaning in a story is inherently subjective. As a Realistic Drama, A Doll’s House depicts a real life situation that is intended to resonate with the average person. Ibsen adds a twist, however, by employing dramatic irony to create an emotional response similar to that of a tragedy.

Here’s where your problem comes into play, Mr. Parris. Ibsen’s overt irony in the final conversation between Torvald and Nora emphasizes the severity of forgery and disobedience. “I quite literally feel physically sick in the presence of such people,” (1701) Torvald proclaims regarding Krogstad, the forger. There are two trains of thought I associate with this use of dramatic irony:

1. Ibsen has done a great job of depicting the severity of forgery and disobedience. This irony is not coincidental and allows for many different possibilities later on (as we are unsure whether Torvald is entirely ignorant of Nora’s actions). I’m excited to find out whether Nora is punished for her actions, or whether Ibsen will take another route, perhaps exploring more of the power dynamic between the two main characters.
2. How much more obvious can it be? This coincidental irony makes me cringe. It is predictable and phony—we know exactly what is going to happen and the irony actually lessens the intended message (that forgery and borrowing money are bad, along with the purposeful perpetuation of a gender stereotype), as was true in Oedipus.

We have read enough similar stories to see a clear path to #2. Yet, I am inclined to believe that resonance is something we achieve through our own desires and cannot simply create. While I empathize with your issue, I believe it is too individualistic for me to tell you to suspend your disbelief. Perhaps some may find the use of irony affective. It often empowers the reader by entrusting him with valuable information that the characters do not even know. There is also the other end of the spectrum, where the reader cannot get over the coincidental nature of the irony. In this case, it would be disingenuous to negate this feeling.

As opposed to expecting this type of irony and story structure in works of artifice, perhaps we should simply contextualize it. Expecting common contrivance cannot predetermine one’s internal resonance—it is entirely circumstantial.

The validity of this argument will be tested as the play progresses. Perhaps the dynamic between Torvald and “sweet little Nora”(1701) will prove to be something more than just an expected stereotype.

It seems as though dramatic irony (or the outcome thereof) could be classified as its own archetype, for whenever the reader's knowledge exceeds that of the characters, that knowledge is almost always used against the character as the reason for his/her demise. (Please note that I have never read A Doll's House, so my opinions are purely based off of how Nora reacts to her wrongdoings at the end of Act I.) In this sense, stifling a groan or two seems like a minor reaction to the repetitive and predictable layout of this type of story. As Betsy said, however, we do indeed find meaning within these archetypal stories. Thus, I am intrigued as to what lesson the audience will receive as a result of the use of dramatic irony. I do not believe that we, as readers, should expect this type of dramatic irony in our search for meaning of every story we read, but I do believe that it is a common occurrence in those stories that follow this specific archetype. If this story does in fact follow my self-proclaimed dramatic irony archetype, then the audience can predict the events that occur. Therefore, i think that you should suspend your disbelief in order to appreciate the lesson for what it is, not necessarily how it occurs.

To begin, I understand your connection between "Oedipus Rex" and "A Doll's House," the dramatic irony that the audience is confronted with, but I would not argue that the two are completely synonymous. The dramatic irony in "Oedipus Rex" is dependent on both Jocasta and Oedipus not fully comprehending their wrongdoings and the application of these wrongdoings, while in "A Doll's House" Nora is fully aware, from the start, that she is going behind Torvald's back and committing an action that she is sure he will deem immoral and unwomanly. This creates succinct moral barriers in the story that are, I would argue, less clear in "Oedipus Rex," which takes longer to reach the moral implications that Sophocles points out or blatantly foreshadows early on in the work. Sure, we can make immediate assumptions about plot when we are introduced to Ibsen's dramatic irony, but the issue at hand is not the way that the plot turns out but the moral and thematic issues that ride along with the unraveling of the plot and are immediately stressed. So I would argue that "A Doll's House" does not deserve the scoffing or yawning that might come along with repeated reading in Greek Tragic works containing dramatic irony. Dramatic irony does exist, but it serves a higher purpose.

What I have enjoyed in this work thus far is my varying perception of Nora. From as much as Ibsen has told so far, Nora is the play's most complex and dynamic character. From the play's conception Nora seemed to be the stereotypical 'Doll" by which the title seems to characterize her. She appears innocent and altogether the image of a stereotypical housewife. Ibsen renders this image by establishing that Nora is given an allowance, creating a power dynamic between her and her husband Torvald, and uses a light but ever-so condescending tone by which Torvald talks to Nora and quotes, "There, there! My little singing bird mustn't go drooping her wings, eh? Has it got the sulks, that little squirrel of mine? (Takes out his wallet.) Nora, what do you think I've got here?"(1682). Torvald talks to Nora in a rather demeaning way, referring to her as his little pet and metaphorically restraining her with a pink fuzzy leash (I characterize their relationship this way because Torvald attempts to be kind to his wife, yet still attempts to hold power and restraint over her with things like allowance). Nora, however, is much more complex than the stereotypical submissive housewife or pet. Ibsen forms a stronger and more independent image of Nora in a conversation with Mrs. Linde. Nora is initially calm and comfortable with Mrs. Linde thinking of her as Torvald's pet, and even refers to herself in third person as "little Nora". Yet when Mrs. Linde remarks, "What a child you are, Nora!" (1688), Nora becomes defensive and even boasts of her shady operations. Nora is not simply a 'little pet' as she often allows others to characterize her but an independent and strong woman. She illegally borrowed money to save her husband while he was sick, working hard to squander money to pay off a loan for her husband's sake, all at the same time maintaining her steadfast image as the blissfully ignorant housewife. I would go so far as to say Nora is manipulative. She has control over a reasonable part of her house but wants her husband and other people to see her as subservient because it allows her to continue in her ways. Nora is more dimensional than typical Greek archetypal characters and this complicates the dramatic irony to an extent that "A Doll's House" becomes much more morally convoluted than Oedipus from the get-go.

If Nora were a one-dimensional character, I would agree with Matt and the story's moral dilemma would be along the lines of "deceit is wrong." However, with Nora's complex build-up and what I have interpreted so far to be Ibsen's forward-thinking writing and attitude (He is a Nineteenth century writer who is empowering women-seems pretty forward thinking to me) the moral dilemma and hands is more concentrated on household dynamics. The dramatic irony, as we all know, is that Torvald hates the masks that people lie and hide behind on while he unknowingly (as far as we're concerned) lives side-by-side with such an example of lying and dissembling. Using Krogstad as an example, Helmer explains to Nora, "A fog of lies like that in a household...spreads disease and infection to every part of it. Eery breath the children take in that kind of house is reeking with evil germs" (1701). Nora is left in conflicted mindset. After her husband leaves she mutters to herself, "Corrupt my children...! Poison my home? It's not true! It could never, never be true" (1702). Now that Torvald has blatantly told Nora that he cannot live in a home with a lying spouse, Nora is attempting to sort out her next move. She must either face justice for forgery or tell her husband that she has lied to him, something that a conservative man will not take kindly. That is the simple, plot-driven explanation that might make me sigh along with you, Mr. Parris. Personally, however, I see the story not just touching this superficial note but diving into deeper issues. Firstly, one moral issue is whether lying is or should be justified in certain cases, such as Nora's case where she desperately lies to save a life. Even Nora seems to be contemplating whether she did write or wrong by forgery. The other issue is whether lying poisons a household, or whether maybe it is the complication and argument in a household that hurts children most. In the final sentences of the first act, as I quote most recently, Nora does not seem primarily concerned by her own fate but by what her husband claims she is doing to her house. She cannot stand to think that her lies would spread "disease and infection" in her house and this idea pains her most of all. It also causes me to think, and most likely Nora too, whether a house built on a foundation of lies or a house divided would be a better place to raise children. And finally, I think another noticeable issue is whether Torvald would approach lying differently if he knew Nora underwent such actions for his own benefit, or if he would remain steel-fisted in his principles. All of these are ideas that the dramatic irony in "A Doll's House" introduces, and all are realistic questions that both Nora and readers should ponder while reading. The dramatic irony in "A Doll's House" should not be yawned or sighed at because it's one-sided approach causes moral disruptions in the writing's characters and in the readers, together creating a much more profound piece of work from start to finish than the Tragic Greek archetypal dramatic ironies of Oedipus.

FIRST OF ALL: AHHHH!!!!! WHY?!?! *Unintelligible noises.*

The play’s use of dramatic irony is so juicy in this context and so engaging! I understand where you are coming from because what might make me jump up and down and scream into the pages with giddy surprise and half-hearted frustration might make a better-read audience groan. I don’t think that your response to the situation is entirely your fault, but rather a natural progression as a reader. The more you read and the farther you delve into what you are reading the less likely you are to be impressed by cheap tricks—like this flagrant (but so engaging!) dramatic irony.

I don’t mean to say that the irony in the play is misused or overused for my tastes because I tend to go for the stories that incite audible gasps and utterances of surprise. I am a very particular reader, however, so what floats my boat might not float yours, and vice versa. In my opinion, that is ok. Just because an initial emotional response to a piece doesn’t follow the expected trajectory doesn’t mean that the reader can’t understand the beauty or intellect of a piece.
This idea plays into this play’s connection to “Oedipus” and that play’s reliance on dramatic irony for audience engagement. The use of irony in Oedipus did not create the same response in me as this play’s does, but, again, that is okay because of the vast variety of readers out there. All in all, the most important aspect of a reading experience doesn’t have to be whether or not a reader buys into what the author is pedaling in terms of emotional effect. Readers who don’t connect on a surface level to a piece may connect on a more intellectual or metaphorical level—and that is also a valid way to approach a work.

(I see what you did there with the macaroon/skylark/textual references. How clever... and also questionable because those are not terms of endearment but terms of manipulation and dominance...So, whatcha gettin' at Mr P? Just kidding! It's pretty obvious that you love us. )