"More Like a Month in the Theatre"
It looks like Chekhov, it sounds like Chekhov, it
feels like Chekhov . . . Guess what? It’s Turgenev! Ivan Turgenev’s (1818-1893)
A MONTH IN THE COUNTRY, now playing at the Classic Stage Company, was written
between 1848 and 1850, published in 1855, premiered in 1872, and had its first
major success in 1879. It was written nearly half a century before Anton
Chekhov created Russia’s greatest dramatic masterpieces. In 1909 it was revived
by the Moscow Art Theatre, with Konstantin Stanislavsky playing Rakitin in a
production that established it in the modern repertory.
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| Taylor Schilling, Peter Dinklage. Photo: Joan Marcus. |
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| Taylor Schilling, Peter Dinklage. Photo: Joan Marcus. |
As translated by John Christopher Jones, the CSC
revival, thankfully trimmed to a two-hour playing time from a more usual three,
has the tone of a light comedy of manners and romance. The language, using
words like “terrific,” “weird,” and “lousy,” is much more American in flavor
than, say, the British-inflected versions of Constance Garnett and Emlyn
Williams (the only two—of many—to which I had immediate access). One
never senses, though, that Turgenev’s language is considered by some critics to be more
beautiful than that of any of his countrymen. The production, directed by Erica
Schmidt, languishes in the kind of stagnant atmosphere often found
in misconceived Chekhov revivals. This isn’t to deny the laughter that greets
the play’s more amusing lines; it’s just that, apart from moments scattered too
far from one another, there’s a heaviness about the goings on that often sucks
the spirit out of them.
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| Taylor Schilling, Mike Faist. Photo: Joan Marcus. |
Natalya Petronova (Taylor Schilling) is the bored,
moody, and beautiful 29-year-old wife of rich landowner Arkady (Anthony Edwards),
36. Her closest friend is Rakitin (Peter Dinklage), 30, a guest at Arkady and
Natalya’s country estate, deeply in love with Natalya. She teases him along
with her affections without ever committing to him. (The relationship is based
on that of Turgenev and the married Pauline Viardot, a famous opera singer to
whom he was slavishly devoted for many years.) Natalya’s true affections lie
with Aleksey Belyaev (Mike Faist), the handsome, charming 21-year-old tutor to
her 10-year-old son, Kolya (Ian Etheridge), to whom Natalya’s 17-year-old ward,
Vera (Megan West), is also strongly attracted. Aleksey may seem perfectly
suited to Vera, but he secretly longs for Natalya although unable, because of
the circumstances, to express these feelings. (Ms. Schmidt, however, inadvisedly chooses to
insert a moment showing Aleksey and Natalya rushing by, partly clothed, as if
in the throes of a sexual encounter.)
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| Mike Faist, Megan West. Photo: Joan Marcus. |
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| Taylor Schilling. Photo: Joan Marcus. |
For all its preoccupation with external romantic
complications, Turgenev’s play is mainly concerned with the internal lives of
its characters, and requires exceptional acting to bring them to life. Although
larded with name actors from popular TV series, films, and Broadway, the
company offers nothing exceptional in their performances. Ms. Schilling and
Mr. Dinklage in the leading roles are certainly competent (Mr. Dinklage—who’s
married to the director—has the best male voice in the production) and each has
their moments, but their work, like that of their co-actors, is not
particularly memorable, nor penetrating. Mr. Faist as Aleksey is attractive
enough, but he’s decidedly bland and charmless, forcing us to wonder why he’s
supposedly such magnetic chick bait. Ms. West’s Vera makes a believable teenager;
still, like her more experienced senior partners, she can do little to inject
much interest in the proceedings.
Mark Wendland’s odd unit set, beautifully lit by
Jeff Croiter, is neither indoors nor out, maintaining—for interiors and
exteriors—with only a change of furniture or rugs, the same low wooden wall
surrounding the three-quarters round space, with a background of birch trees on
the rear wall. It’s in the vein of various skeletal Chekhov revivals, like
Andrei Serban’s THE CHERRY ORCHARD at Lincoln Center in 1977, an approach that can
be effective; however, the transparent/translucent canopy, with two large
windows in it, hung over the set like a rectangular lampshade, is an
unnecessary distraction. Tom Broecker’s period costumes are pretty, yet some of
the hairstyles, like Ms. Schilling’s, are over 160 years out of date.
Turgenev’s play should pass like two pleasant hours
in the country, not a month in the theatre.
Classic
Stage Company (CSC)
136
E. 13th Street, NYC
Through
February 28th