117.
THE SEAGULL
In
1981 Max Stafford-Clark, then artistic director of London’s prestigious Royal
Court Theatre, commissioned Irish playwright Thomas Kilroy to adapt Chekhov’s
THE SEAGULL, written in 1895 and produced a year later, by shifting its native
Russian setting to West Ireland in the 1880s. The production proved a success
and now, 32 years later, Mr. Stafford-Clark has returned to the play, staging
it with a mixed British, Irish, and American cast at the Culture Project’s Lynn
Redgrave Theatre on Bleecker Street. Mr.
Kilroy found many social and political parallels that justified the geographic
transformation from a Slavic to an Anglo-Irish provincial environment, and also
took into account the particular accents the new version would employ to
suggest the class and educational differences among the characters. The
attitudes of the provincial Irish toward England and the opposite also
had parallels between provincial Russians and Moscow. This can
be seen, for example, in the relationship between Constantine (Slate Holmgren),
the aspiring Irish playwright, and his mother, Isobel Desmond (Trudie Styler)—Chekhov’s
Mme. Irina Nicolayevna Arkadina—the sophisticated London theatre star who
condescends to visit her aging, ailing brother Peter’s estate and engages in a
volatile love-hate relationship with her son.
Only
the names Constantine [Gavrilovich Trepleff], Peter [Nicolayevitch Sorin] (Kenneth
Ryan), and Pauline [Andreyevna] (Stella Feehily), by the way, remain from
Chekhov, although without the additional names shown here in brackets; Mr.
Stafford-Clark, whom I met at the theatre, said this is because they are the
only ones common in both Russia and Ireland. Thus we have Lily (Rachel Spencer
Hewitt) for Nina Mikhailovna Zaryetchny, Cousin Gregory (Tim Ruddy) for Ilya
Afanasyevitch Shamreyeff, Mary (Amanda Quaid) for Masha Marya Ilyinishna, Mr. Aston
(Alan Cox) for Boris Alexeyevitch Trigorin, Dr. Hickey (Rufus Collins) for Dr.
Eugene Sergeyetich Dorn, and James (Ryan David O’Byrne) for Semyon Semyonovitch
Medvedenko.
Mr.
Kilroy, as has become common in such adaptations, didn’t translate the play himself but
worked from a literal version that he skillfully transposed into a
believable variety of Anglo-British verbal patterns that, I assume, are much easier for English-speaking actors to feel comfortable with than the sometimes
stiff-sounding translations that attempt to capture the
essence of Russian-speaking characters. Everything sounded quite natural,
and—despite the playwright’s lengthy program note rationale—I appreciated the
territorial shift more because of this linguistic transposition than for any of
the presumed new insights afforded into late 19th-century social and political
issues, such as the deleterious effect the Land Acts are having on the landed
gentry. The name Parnell flies by, but I doubt many Americans will pick up on
it, or even on the references to Isobel’s great West End rivals, Madge Kennedy
and Ellen Terry. Then again, those familiar with translations of the play may
be disturbed by alterations such as that given the play’s opening lines. In
Stark Young’s version, they go: “Medvedenko (Semyon): Why do you always wear
black?” Masha: I am in mourning for my life. I’m unhappy.” Kilroy changes this
to: “James: And why is it you're always wearing black?” Mary: “It's because I'm
so sad. Black is for sadness.”
The
Irish atmosphere offers the opportunity for Constantine’s pretentiously symbolist
play to be inspired by Celtic myth in what is clearly a reference to the poetic plays
of Yeats. It's staged in an aisle, forcing some audience members, including
me, to crane their necks to see it. Lily appears there resembling a
pre-Raphaelite Ellen Terry in Sargent’s painting of her as Lady Macbeth. Irish
songs, beautifully sung acapella by Stella Feehily, cover the scene changes. Jocular
Irish humor bubbles up throughout to maintain the proper spirit.
This
is a low-budget production, so Peter Hartwell’s design uses a single set of
blue walls and white pillars for each scene, with the furniture rearranged to
suit the dramatic needs. For the opening scene, a green hedge tells us that we
are outdoors. It is not the most appealing way to produce THE SEAGULL, but it
is efficient enough to establish a basic environment that allows us to
concentrate on the play and its performance. Ilona Somogyi’s costumes nicely
convey the period and style.
For me, the foremost performance is that of British actor Alan Cox, so brilliant earlier in the season in the
title role of Priestley’s CORNELIUS, and here a surprisingly amusing and
likably charming Trigorin (whoops, Aston). He brings out all the
self-deprecating insecurities of this outwardly successful English middlebrow
writer, the way he constantly belittles and questions his own fame, when faced
by the awestruck idealization he elicits from the innocent young Lily/Nina of
Rachel Spencer Hewitt. When we realize later his eventual cruelty toward Nina, the
seagull he destroys, his apparent niceness takes on a hue of unexpected evil. Ms.
Hewitt, an American actress with a warm, radiant beauty, brings a rich voice
and deep intelligence to the role, but she seems too sophisticated in her early
scenes to be so easy a victim of Aston’s charms; her later scenes, after she’s
suffered rejection as an actress and the loss of a child, are better but still not thoroughly convincing.
Mr. Holmgren’s Constantine is far too overwrought and unpleasant. Bald and
bearded, he’s not your conventional Constantine, and with his constant whining
and temper tantrums, fails to evoke much sympathy. Mr.
Stafford-Clark stresses Constantine’s Oedipal relationship to Isobel,
including a scene when he vainly attempts to kiss her on the lips. (Their bond closely
approximates that of Hamlet and Gertrude.) British veteran Trudie Styler (best known, perhaps, as the wife of Sting) gives
the diva Isobel/Arkadina a satisfying aura of self-involvement and
theatrical grand manners, but has difficulty engaging with her subtextual
vulnerability. The other company members are mostly vibrant and colorful
(especially Tim Ruddy as Cousin Gregory, with his boorish stories of famous
actors he’s seen), and offer helpful support.
This
SEAGULL avoids the gloominess often associated with Chekhov and seeks to hit
the play’s comic buttons (Chekhov insisted that the play was a comedy), but
this sometimes leads to excessive shouting among a group of temperamental
hotheads, especially in the early scenes. There are a number of choices that
seem odd, including having the dead seagull shot by Constantine hidden in a
burlap bag. But, imperfect as it is, I found the production more spirited and enjoyable
than the star-powered Broadway revival of 2008 starring Kristin Scott Thomas as
Arkadina, Carey Mulligan as Nina, and Peter Sarsgaard as Constantine. Chekhov in Ireland may seem odd, but the fellow turns out have been a broth of a boy.
