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| Sonya(Yanina Clifton); Marina (Alice Ferguson); Vanya (Jerry Hearn); Yelena (Lainie Hart) |
Uncle Vanya
Canberra Repertory TheatreTheatre 3
29 April – 14 May, 2016
Director Geoffrey Borny makes much in the programme about the humour in
Chekov. He claims the dark view that the Russian’s plays are gloomy affairs is
a radical misinterpretation. Choosing to work with David Mamet’s fresh
translation, he brings out many shades of light and dark, and subtle nuances
are a relief as the play zips along under his capable stewardship.
The laughs drawn from the audience are often at what might be considered
to be the blackest moments, such as when Sonya (Yanina Clifton) agonises, “We
are all desperately unhappy”, or when Vanya (Sam Hannan-Morrow) is driven so
far to frustration that he attempts to shoot Serebryakov (twice) and misses
(twice). We are amused, rather than touched by people feeling sorry for
themselves and moaning about their plight instead of doing anything about it.
Serebryakov (Jerry Hearn) in particular strikes several Eeyore-like poses, and,
although he is a ghastly old grump, he is a comic one.
Sam Hannan-Morrow works hard to elicit our sympathies in the titular
role. His self-pity is deliberately tedious, but he mines the pathos of his
anger and his feelings of rejection. He falls in love with Yelena (Lainie Hart),
the young wife of Serebryakov, who is his brother-in-law, having previously
married Vanya’s sister. The image of Vanya as an unrequited suitor with a bunch
of winter roses is quite heart-breaking, and his understated depression is
genuinely affecting. The local doctor, Astrov (Jim Adamik) is also in love with
Yelena, and so visits the house much more than his professional capacities
should allow. Meanwhile, Sonya, Vanya’s niece and the daughter of Serebryakov,
is in love with Astrov, but he doesn’t notice her because she is plain,
although she has the proverbial “beautiful hair”.
Astrov attempts to seduce Yelena with his passion for the environment.
When he explains the rampant deforestation and the effects it will have on
future generations it echoes his own behaviour in acting rashly for immediate
gratification with no thought to the consequences. This and his realisation
that he has been a fool at the dénouement are Adamik’s best scenes, as his
passion is much more convincing than his comedy.
Sonya understands his work, because she has hangs on his every word.
Working on the land, she understands that all of nature is connected and that
we are bound by our ecosystems, whereas the vapid Yelena has no interest in anything
that requires thought or philosophy. The men don’t care for brains, however;
they are all in thrall to youth and beauty. Although fresh-faced and dowdily
dressed, Yanina Clifton glows on stage: she may be plain (without make-up) but
her expressions are gorgeous and make her eminently watchable. Her calm
strength and dignity are justly rewarded in the final scene as she delivers the
climactic monologue with resolute conviction.
Yelena is described repeatedly as idle, languid and lazy, yet Lainie
Hart flits across the stage with none of the indolence with which she is
frequently credited. She is dashing and dramatic, flirtatious and restless, and
we feel her pent-up dissatisfaction and irritation with her husband. When Sonya
admits her love for Astrov to Yelena, the confession is more like a daughter to
a mother than an understanding between friends. Similarly, Yelena’s meeting
with Astrov, after being made aware of her step-daughter’s feelings comes
across as spiteful rather than innocent. Youth and its passing is a major
theme, so the miscasting of ages obscures the message. Similarly, Sam
Hannan-Morrow is clearly not the 47 years that are mentioned at least three
times in the play, and his constant references to stagnating in old age are not
credible.
Times are changing and people don’t necessarily like change when it is
forced upon them. Vanya and Sonya look after the estate, which belonged to
Vanya’s sister until her death, when it passed to her husband, Serebryakov. When
he suggests selling up and turning them out, his complete lack of comprehension
at their distress is resonant with absentee landlords everywhere. Serebryakov
stays up all night writing books that regurgitate other people’s opinions –
Vanya tells him, “You know nothing of art because you have no soul.” To add to
his anguish, Vanya’s mother (played with intelligence and restraint by Antonia
Kitzel), adores Serebryakov, respects his pedantry, and herself writes
pamphlets that nobody reads.
The family lead dull and boring lives. They eat and drink and sleep, and
follow a rigid routine of sandwiches and samovars, and are terrifically
unsettled when this banal schedule is interrupted. The aesthetics of this life
are beautiful from the set (Andrew Kay) to the costumes (Heather Spong), but
empty. It is left to the servants to provide the depth, and the richest images
are drawn from the land; when the men fight, the nanny, Marina, refers to them
as a gaggle of cackling geese. Alice Ferguson imbues Marina with a warmth and
assurance, which implies continuity; the delightfully simple Telegin (Neil
McLeod) is happy when he sees a job done well, and even the workman, Yefim
(Jonathan Pearson) has a solidly enduring presence.
Those who do the physical labour are the true heart of the country.
Passing passions are fleeting, but solid foundations will endure. As a doctor
and an activist, Chekov understood the importance of true substance over
superficial artifice; as a director, Geoffrey Borny does too. The basic
humanity of this production is without doubt; it may well be worthy, but it is
also well worth seeing.
