Steve Carell shines in this comedic, contemporary take on Chekhov
Heidi Schreck’s comedy-heavy translation of Chekhov’s drama has a contemporary setting and tone. With sitcom stars to bring that vision to life, director Lila Neugebauer’s production is playful. That high-key brightness upfront means that the weight of the characters’ struggles sneaks up on us in this eventually heart-breaking production.
Schreck’s version makes direct connections to current events. The portrayal of the doctor Astrov, in medical scrubs and suffering with non-stop work exhaustion, nods to the pandemic, and his reveries about the forest are steeped in the language of climate change. While these concepts slot in comfortably, allusions to the professor Serebryakov as a famous, lavishly worshipped intellectual feel archaic by comparison.
The acting is neurotic, even frantic. Astrov (William Jackson Harper) is wound tight, running on vodka and sleeplessness, sarcastic in tone and comically shouting about how he is among “freaks” and his moustache is “weird”. He and Vanya (The Office’s Steve Carell) are playful drunks, giddily dancing together. In a sudden rainstorm, Carell’s Vanya doesn’t dodge the deluge, laughing through the soaking until he is crying. Carell’s intentionally irritating whininess makes it difficult to separate his Vanya from his well-known television persona, which is initially off-putting, but his performance evolves into something closer to a sad clown, and when pushed to the brink, he delivers all the necessary pathos.
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Anika Noni Rose’s Elena can be hard to read, and at times we wonder about her agency. Alison Pill’s Sonya is childlike, delighting in splashing in the rain puddles on stage and curling up when hiding her love of Astrov, but she brings a deep ferocity when she is fighting for her own and Vanya’s survival. Kaye Voyce’s costumes emphasise the contrast between the women: bored, elegant Elena dresses in rich, jewel-tone gowns with sumptuous or textured fabric and plunging necklines, wildly out of place on this farm; while the ever practical, hard-working Sonya wears sensible wellies.
Mikhail Fiksel and Beth Lake’s echoey, almost metallic sound design, which underscores monologues, strikes an odd note amid the otherwise warm, natural aesthetic. Mimi Lien’s set is filled with mid-century modern wood furniture with a fabric wall of rich brocade that later falls away to reveal the frayed shabbiness behind the façade. When Vanya declares in the play’s waning moments that “everything will be the same” going forward, the decay around him demonstrates that that cannot be true.
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