Latest news with #Chekhov
Los Angeles Times
16-07-2025
- Entertainment
- Los Angeles Times
Ambition in Topanga paradise: Anton Chekhov and John Galsworthy at Theatricum Botanicum
'The Seagull: Malibu' and the seldom-revived 'Strife,' two ambitious offerings in Theatricum Botanicum's outdoor season, are reset in the American past. Ellen Geer, the director, calls her version of Anton Chekhov's play, 'a retelling.' She relocates 'The Seagull,' as a program note specifies and her production flamboyantly conveys, 'to the self-centered Me Generation of the '70s that followed the social upheaval of the '60s.' Malibu, a California world unto its own, hemmed in by the Pacific Ocean on one side and the Santa Monica Mountains on the other, sets up a groovy, glamorous equivalent to the backwater country setting of Chekhov's original, in which all of the characters seem to be suffering from terminal ennui. 'Strife,' John Galsworthy's 1909 social drama about the human cost of a deadlock between management and labor, is transferred from the England-Wales border to Pennsylvania of the 1890s. The play, directed by Ellen Geer and Willow Geer, isn't adapted in the freehanded way of 'The Seagull: Malibu,' and the change of locale doesn't always seem natural. The production's opening scene is slightly disorienting. The directors, called to an emergency meeting at the home of the chairman of the board of the American Steel Corp., have the haughty mien of British aristocrats. Later, at the freezing cold abode of one of the leaders of the strike, the impoverished scene takes on unmistakable Dickensian notes. There are a fair number of Irish accents in the mix, but I wouldn't have been surprised if one of the actors broke out his best cockney. 'The Seagull: Malibu' isn't always consistent in setting up the time period, but the production's larkish approach is infectious. Arkadina (Susan Angelo) plays the self-absorbed actress mother who sold out to Hollywood. Defensive about her age, she's even more prickly about the condescending attitude of her would-be avant-garde playwright son, Constantine (Christopher Glenn Gilstrap), who basically thinks she's a B-movie hack. Gilstrap's Constantine looks more like a future yacht rock frontman than a theatrical renegade. Angelo's Arkadina seems destined to have her career resurrected in the next decade by a recurring role on either 'Dallas' or 'Dynasty.' The charged Oedipal dynamics between them are vividly fleshed out. Willow Geer plays Masha, the Chekhov character who insouciantly declares that she's in mourning for her life. Her Masha is a pothead and sloppy self-dramatizing drunk, hopelessly in love with Constantine, who only has eyes for Nina (Caroline Quigley). Masha confides her discontent to Dr. Dore (Daniel Reichert), a Gestalt therapist who, like Chekhov's more traditional Dr. Dorn, has an empirical worldview that stands in stark contrast to the romantic dreaminess of everyone else at the estate. Thad (Tim Halligan), Arkadina's rechristened brother, suffers from fragile health and a sketchy backstory. Halligan, however, gives the character definition, especially when advocating for his nephew and risking the wrath of his volatile, penny-pinching sister. Trigger (Rajiv Shah) is the new version of Trigorin, the established writer who, as Arkadina's younger lover, resists becoming her property even as he enjoys the perks of their celebrity relationship. The boldly amusing and good-natured production makes the most of the fading California hippie era. The final act, unfortunately, is dreadfully acted. Quigley's Nina is a delight in the play's early going, all innocence and starry-eyed enthusiasm. But there appears to be no artistic growth when she returns to encounter a still-lovesick Constantine. Quigley's acting is as melodramatic and artificial as Nina's was said to be before her travails and losses transformed her talent. This isn't the production's only failure of subtlety, but it's surely the most consequential. Still, if you can cope with a deflating finale, there's much to enjoy in this update of 'The Seagull,' not least the glorious Topanga summer night backdrop, which translates Chekhov's setting into a rustic West Coast paradise. I can't remember ever having seen a Galsworthy play, so I was grateful for Theatrium Botanicum's vision in producing 'Strife.' Awarded the Nobel Prize in literature in 1932, Galsworthy is better known for his novels than his plays. (The 1967 BBC television adaptation of his Forsyte family chronicles brought him immense posthumous acclaim.) 'Strife' is an intelligent thesis play, not on the verbal or theatrical level of George Bernard Shaw's sparkling comedy of ideas but impressive all the same for its complexity of argument and compassionate determination to understand all sides of a problem. The play is especially resonant at this moment when workers are treated like items in a budget that can be erased without regard for human consequences. There's a rousing speech about the God of Capital, 'a white-faced, stony-hearted monster' that says, ''I'm very sorry for you, poor fellows — you have a cruel time of it, I know,' but will not give you one dollar of its dividends to help you have a better time.' These words are spoken by David Roberts (Gerald C. Rivers), a labor hard-liner and rabble-rouser, who is the ideological enemy and (mirror image of) John Anthony (Franc Ross), the chairman of American Steel who refuses to give an inch to the demands of the workers. In portraying these intractable figures in equivalent moral terms, Galsworthy reveals, if not his privileged background, then his muddled thinking on economic justice. But this large-cast drama (one of the reasons it's rarely produced today) provides a broad spectrum of human experience, adding depth and nuance to what is undeniably a vigorous debate. Enid Underwood (Emily Bridges), Mr. Anthony's married daughter, is desperate to help her ailing servant, Annie Roberts (Earnestine Phillips), whose health has been destroyed since her husband, David, has been on strike. Enid's sympathy is strong, but her class allegiance is stronger, setting up an intriguing character study that takes us into the heart of the societal dilemma Galsworthy diligently dissects. The acting is often at the level of community theater — broad, strident and overly exuberant. Galsworthy, to judge by this revival, seems to be working far outside the tradition of realism. I wish the directors had reined in some of the hoary excesses of the performers, but I felt fortunate to experience a play that might not be an indelible classic but is too incisive to be forgotten.
Telegraph
14-06-2025
- Entertainment
- Telegraph
A Visit to Friends, Aldeburgh Festival: an exceptionally subtle and affecting take on Chekhov
The composer Colin Matthews has been for so long a central part of the Aldeburgh Festival, assisting Benjamin Britten in his final years, then as chairman of the Britten Estate, and mentor of so many young composers at the Britten-Pears School, that it is perhaps surprising that he has never written an opera. Now, working with the novelist William Boyd as librettist, he has conceived an exceptionally subtle and affecting one-act drama, interweaving an imaginary chamber opera based on a Chekhov short story with a modern rehearsal of the piece, with eloquently entangled results. The original Chekhov narrative of 1898 is a meditation on the transience of happiness and innocence lost: Misha is revisiting the dilapidated country estate where the mature Vadia and the younger Nadia live, and their emotional states are rekindled as both are in love with him – or the idea of him – but he cannot commit to either. The 10 scenes alternate between this story and the modern rehearsal of a newly-rediscovered opera based on it, with the characters Natalie and Vanessa playing the two women and Marcus as the visitor. This could all be deeply confusing, but the clear direction by Rachael Hewer, and designs by Leanne Vandenbussche, sharply clarifies the interactions, mostly with a set that revolves between the scenes, alternating the opera's Chekhovian setting with the modern rehearsal room. A well-observed rehearsal pianist supports the singers and the director Gregor, who also plays a silent Chekhov at the start and finish (with impeccably behaved dog Shosty). There is a clear delineation between old and new in this staging, but Matthews has chosen not to reflect this in his score, which is through-composed in an idiom that echoes the early style of the Russian composer Scriabin rather than his own mature modernism. This blurs the temporal framing of the piece, and cleverly enables him to evoke a rhapsodic romanticism at the moments when the two women express their love for the same man. It becomes increasingly clear that both Misha back then, and Marcus right now, cannot cope with the women's attentions, and he retreats from the scene. The revelation of the present-day relationships renders the opera impossible to produce. Misha's ultimate dilemma, his weakness, is the focus of Chekhov's story, and really the story should just evaporate at this point, but here it is Vanessa who has the last word with a visionary aria about life's choices as the scenery hovers between old and new. The four singers – Lotte Betts-Dean and Susanna Hurrell as Varia/Vanessa and Nadia/Natalie, Marcus Farnsworth as Misha/Marcus and Edward Hawkins as the director Gregor – project Boyd's rather conversational text with clarity, and while Matthews's vocal writing may not provide sharp delineation between the characters, it is beautifully crafted to allow the words to project. As has happened before in Matthews's pre-operatic work with voices, it is in the dramatic instrumental interludes between the scenes that the passions are fully unleashed, and conductor Jessica Cottis evokes these powerfully with the superb players of the Aurora Orchestra. We are left with the regretful, Chekhovian sense that much remains unspoken and unsung in the taut drama we have witnessed.
Indian Express
06-06-2025
- Entertainment
- Indian Express
From ‘The Seagull' to ‘The Cherry Orchard': 4 Anton Chekhov plays that changed the face of theatre
(Written by Taniya Chopra) 'Shakespeare was a bad writer, and I consider your plays even worse,' Russian author Leo Tolstoy is said to have told his contemporary Anton Chekhov. Tolstoy was not the only one, many other great writers and critics were of like mind. They were quick to dismiss Chekhov because his plays lacked a traditional plot and nothing grand happened in them. What they failed to realise, however, was that was the beauty of his plays. Chekhov, ultimately, proved the naysayers wrong and demonstrated that drama does not always need action, just truth. Silence speaks loudly in Chekhovian plays. His characters are flawed beings, and the most powerful moments in his plays are not shouts or slams, but what is left unsaid. The Seagull 'If at any time you should have need of my life, come and take it.' If heartbreaks and quiet longings are your jam, then The Seagull is just the play for you. Widely considered Chekov's most dramatic play, it is the story of Konstantin, a writer, who wants his talents to be recognised by his mother, Irina Arkadina, a famous actress. Irina's lover, Boris Trigorin, a successful writer, soon begins an affair with Nina, an aspiring actress whom Konstantin loves. What follows is a storm of sorrow and unrequited love. Dreams of characters wither and their love slips away, and the pain of being left behind never quite fades. Set on a country estate, it shows the frustration of characters stuck in monotonous routines, who long for something more. The professor and his young wife,Yelena, visit the countryside, where Sonya, his daughter from a previous marriage, manages the family farm along with her Uncle Vanya. Amid the quiet routine of country life, Yelena becomes the focus of affection from two men, each carrying their own dreams and desires. Throughout the play, the characters face the pain of wasted years. Their silent screams can be heard through the script. Chekhov doesn't offer any resolution in this play, just the crushing weight of endurance. 'We shall live through the long procession of days before us, and through the long evenings; we shall patiently bear the trials that fate imposes on us' The play delves into the lives of three sisters – Olga, Masha and Irina – who yearn to return to their former life in Moscow after being stuck in a provincial town. The sisters bear the burden of unfulfilled dreams and the monotony of their existence. This play of Chekhov captures the subtle beauty and the silent ache of time passing away. The sisters hold on to ideals of love and a brighter future, but as each act passes, that future drifts further away. They keep waiting for life to begin, not realising it is already slipping by. It forces us to dwell on the question: if we spend our entire lives waiting for happiness, will we recognise it when it does? A reflection on memory and the end of an era. Chekhov's final play was written just a year before his death in 1904. The play is about an aristocratic family struggling to come to terms with the loss of their estate, and with it, their beloved cherry orchard. One needs to read in between the lines to know that Chekhov is actually talking about late 19th century Russia, which is on the brink of transformation. Throughout the play, characters try to deal with personal disappointments and the loss of their estate. Each character responds to change differently, some resist it, others embrace it. The cherry orchard stands as a bittersweet reminder of the past, a fading reminder of their ways of life of old Russia. The Cherry Orchard is not just a farewell to a family estate, it's Chekov's farewell to theatre. 'The distant sound is heard, as if from the sky, of a breaking string, dying away sadly. Silence follows it, and only the sound is heard, some way away in the orchard, of the axe falling on the trees. Curtain falls' (The writer is an intern with
Sydney Morning Herald
04-06-2025
- Entertainment
- Sydney Morning Herald
This star-studded tale takes us into the heart of acting and obsession
THE GREAT LILLIAN HALL ★★★★ (M) 108 minutes Maybe it's all the time she spent starring in American Horror Story, but Jessica Lange has become more febrile and actressy as she's grown older, making her perfect for the role of Lillian Hall. Directed by a Broadway veteran, the playwright Michael Cristofer, The Great Lillian Hall is a tribute to the New York stage and one of its most revered performers, Marian Seldes, famous both for her talent and the fact that she rarely missed a performance, no matter the length of a play's season. The script is by her niece, Elisabeth Seldes Annacone, and the action takes place during rehearsals of Chekhov's The Cherry Orchard just as Lillian, who shares Seldes' work ethic, is starting to lose her grip. The first sign comes when she causes one of her co-stars to trip over the furniture and her troubles accelerate rapidly when the lines begin slipping from her memory. Lange frequently overacts but that is the nature of the part. In her head, Lillian is never offstage. The doorman in the lobby of her apartment building on Central Park South is treated to a line from Chekhov as she leaves for the theatre, and a passing fan on the street gets the same treatment. The only people who can get past the pose are her neighbour, Ty Maynard (Pierce Brosnan), an artist who shares her late-night confidences when they chat to one another from their adjoining balconies, and Edith (Kathy Bates), her salty-tongued housekeeper and assistant. Edith occasionally succeeds in putting her in touch with life's realities but Lillian's daughter, Margaret (Lily Rabe) lacks that gift. In an early scene, Margaret arrives for a scheduled breakfast with her mother only to find that Lillian has forgotten and is about to hurry off to rehearsal, and we gather from her response that this is the kind of disappointment she's been dealing with for most of her life. Films focusing on famous people during their darkest hours seem to be in vogue. We've recently seen Angelina Jolie in Maria, which takes Maria Callas through the last unhappy weeks of her life. Now we're with Lillian as she receives her dementia diagnosis. The difference is that she's refusing to give up. She will act in The Cherry Orchard even if she has to die in the attempt. And in this context, dying doesn't mean merciful oblivion. It means total humiliation.
The Age
04-06-2025
- Entertainment
- The Age
This star-studded tale takes us into the heart of acting and obsession
THE GREAT LILLIAN HALL ★★★★ (M) 108 minutes Maybe it's all the time she spent starring in American Horror Story, but Jessica Lange has become more febrile and actressy as she's grown older, making her perfect for the role of Lillian Hall. Directed by a Broadway veteran, the playwright Michael Cristofer, The Great Lillian Hall is a tribute to the New York stage and one of its most revered performers, Marian Seldes, famous both for her talent and the fact that she rarely missed a performance, no matter the length of a play's season. The script is by her niece, Elisabeth Seldes Annacone, and the action takes place during rehearsals of Chekhov's The Cherry Orchard just as Lillian, who shares Seldes' work ethic, is starting to lose her grip. The first sign comes when she causes one of her co-stars to trip over the furniture and her troubles accelerate rapidly when the lines begin slipping from her memory. Lange frequently overacts but that is the nature of the part. In her head, Lillian is never offstage. The doorman in the lobby of her apartment building on Central Park South is treated to a line from Chekhov as she leaves for the theatre, and a passing fan on the street gets the same treatment. The only people who can get past the pose are her neighbour, Ty Maynard (Pierce Brosnan), an artist who shares her late-night confidences when they chat to one another from their adjoining balconies, and Edith (Kathy Bates), her salty-tongued housekeeper and assistant. Edith occasionally succeeds in putting her in touch with life's realities but Lillian's daughter, Margaret (Lily Rabe) lacks that gift. In an early scene, Margaret arrives for a scheduled breakfast with her mother only to find that Lillian has forgotten and is about to hurry off to rehearsal, and we gather from her response that this is the kind of disappointment she's been dealing with for most of her life. Films focusing on famous people during their darkest hours seem to be in vogue. We've recently seen Angelina Jolie in Maria, which takes Maria Callas through the last unhappy weeks of her life. Now we're with Lillian as she receives her dementia diagnosis. The difference is that she's refusing to give up. She will act in The Cherry Orchard even if she has to die in the attempt. And in this context, dying doesn't mean merciful oblivion. It means total humiliation.
