Reviewed
by Jerry Kraft
This
new adaptation of Chekhov's "Uncle Vanya" focuses on the bright, comic
elements of this bittersweet love story. Craig Lucas devised a script which is
fresh and funny, loving and humane, contemporary in sound and traditionally
Russian in character. Director Bartlett Sher leads a talented cast to an amusing
exercise that is both wisely observant and innocently comedic. There is a sense
that he has a real affection for these characters, and that he wanted the tone
to be as far removed from the more usual, languishing pace of Chekhov as
possible. Although there are still strong elements of the longing and
philosophical ennui of the 19th Century Russian gentry, here it seems that only
emerges when the comic circus has paused between acts, or at the end of a long
day of romantic games and teasing diversions. It's fun, anything but academic,
and smartly performed by an excellent cast. It's also beautifully staged, with
a large and elegant scenic design by John McDermott, ravishing costumes by Deb
Trout and warm,
romantic lighting by Brian MacDevitt. An original score by Adam Guettel sets exactly the right tone for
a lively romantic romp. The melodies are charming and sweet, the orchestration
lovely.
At
the center of the story is the hopeless infatuation and pursuit of the
beautiful young Elena, wife of the much older Professor Serebriakov, by Vanya.
Fortunately, Elena is played by an appropriately beautiful and charming
actress, Samantha Mathis. She makes her youth and beauty both irresistible and heartbreaking
to those who have left youth behind, and never found beauty in their own lives.
The role of Vanya is exuberantly played by Mark Nelson, and his nebbish energy is both
funny and sympathetic. His is the classic clown's posture of a man too small
for life, occupying space which some other object possesses, perpetually foiled
in his preposterous duel with existence. His advances on Elena are sweet and
pathetic, desire framed by absurdity. I think the sincerity and vitality he
brings to the production are a large part of the reason why the show never
seems ponderous or overly sentimental.
Professor
Serebriakov, finely detailed by Allen Fitzpatrick, is an only slightly different
kind of fool. Wandering through the wilderness of arcane academic trivia, and
only momentarily restored at the oasis of a beautiful young wife, he is a
scholar of the meaningless. What is more foolish than a man who has squandered
his life, and too late seeks to find meaning through simply recognizing and
naming what has been lost? When he announces his intention to sell the estate,
he is really abandoning an entire life, his lost life, and hoping to put some
market value on what is tragically lost.
The
doctor called to treat Serebriakov's gout is Astrov (Tim Hopper), who provides a somewhat more
removed perspective on the deterioration of this entire lifestyle. When Sonya,
Serebriakov's daughter by his first marriage, hopelessly pines for him, it is
ironic because her heart is so much more pure than his, yet she fears she is
too plain, never recognizing that what she thinks of as plainness, is really a
lack of artifice. While Kristen Flanders brings her usual focused and energetic
performance to Sonya, frankly she's just a bit too attractive to really carry
off a woman of such deep self-doubt.
Todd
Jefferson Moore played
a sycophantic Telegin with great control and his comic struggle not to seem too
eager to please and to always be just short of fully adequate was entertaining
and smartly crafted. Lori Larsen played Maria, the mother of Serebriakov's first wife
with a bit too much restraint, never quite achieving the same level of clarity
as the rest of the cast.
The
physical production was absolutely beautiful, with neatly defined playing areas
described within large, open wall units that rotated on wagons to re-define the
stage space. It was both elegant and spare, and allowed an intimacy for the
interactions while also appearing spacious in a way that fit the Russian
countryside. It was a lovely, impressive design.
I
suspect there will be some who feel this production was too eager to be
light-hearted and easily entertaining, and to some reverential Chekhov-devotees
the point may be well taken. But I think for anyone just wanting to enjoy an
evening of the compassionate observation of a great writer, exploring the ambitions
and delusions of romance, this is a satisfying and frequently delightful work.
I found myself really liking these people, and wishing them well, and
recognizing the familiarity of their human aspirations and delusions. This was
an "Uncle Vanya" of great compassion and abundant pleasure.