aSir Trevor Nunn, 84, is making his first attempt at Anton Chekhov’s 1899 tragicomedy, Uncle Vanya, about hard work and hopeless love set in a dilapidated mansion in the Russian countryside. No stranger to the biggest stages, and the only person to have run both the National Theater and his RSC, Nunn works on one of the smallest stages, his Tree of Orange in Richmond, but It’s unfair that this version ends there.
A minimalist space will bring immediate benefits. Frequent references to characters living suffocatingly together often seem fanciful to a vast audience. Chekhov’s reputation is hard to beat, but here theatergoers nervously dip their toes in as eight actors drink, dance, duel and kiss within touching distance. His dialogue and appearance are so authentic that you feel as if you are watching a documentary about him on Russian television from the late 19th century.
With lighting by Johanna Town and sound by Max Pappenheim, a distinctly somber atmosphere is defined by both coveted liquids (tea, vodka) and unwanted liquids (tears, sweat, rain). With constant attention to physical and historical detail, in an era and region without salons, Nan does her hair here, almost a subplot. Only William Chubb, who plays the withered academic Professor Serebryakov, looks decent, a hirsute man who wears wild spirals that look half-cut and self-hacked. is. A woman has her long hair flowing, braided, tied up, braided in nets, or wrapped in a scarf.
In other films, individual roles are more of a star, but Nunn portrays a perfect ensemble. James Rance’s poignant, near-insane Vanya still hints at the underlying spirit and intellect that her boredom and booze erode on a daily basis. Madeline Gray makes Sonja’s simple, cheerful demeanor a mask for her heartbreakingly tearing voice. Chekhov makes the most of his experience as a doctor in this play, which depicts twists and turns involving gout, depression, alcoholism, and morphine. Dressed in haute couture and costumes to resemble playwright Andrew Richardson, Dr. Andrew Richardson makes his brilliant professional stage debut as Skye Masterson in Guys and Dolls at the Bridge, in which he inflames the female body. He is impressive as a doctor who destroys his own body while doing so.
Having been trained in theater critic school to avoid overt emotion, I was surprised by the surprising third act in which Sonya, who secretly loves Astro, inadvertently requests the same for Lily Sakovsky’s work. At first, I was perplexed by the fact that I was wiping my eyes so often, but later I was proven right by the reactions of those around me. She became obsessed and married Elena to explore her doctor’s feelings. This is Chekhov at his most Shakespearean, and Nunn combines his deep knowledge of both writers to a late-career victory.
