Though Anton Chekhov originally conceived The Seagull as a comedy, it’s often misconstrued due to productions that slip into the monotonous pattern of melancholic, heartbroken individuals wallowing in despair amidst the serene Russian countryside.
Thomas Ostermeier, known for his desire to introduce “rock ‘n’ roll” into Ibsen’s works, poses no risk in his current endeavor. This time, he’s shaking up Chekhov’s classics with an energetic and captivating zest.
Thomas Ostermeier, who once sought to infuse Ibsen’s plays with rock music, isn’t a cause for concern in his latest project. Instead, he’s adding a lively, eye-catching spark to Chekhov’s works.
Although Ostermeier might appear carefree – filled with self-referential humor, irony, metaphor, and playfulness – he remains faithful to his subject matter. The essence of The Seagull lies in its delicate balance between comedy and tragedy. This production, despite being a hilarious spectacle verging on slapstick, intensifies this duality. Ostermeier, along with co-adapter Duncan Macmillan (People, Places & Things)), elevates the contrast between the characters’ tragic fate and their inability to laugh at themselves. We find ourselves laughing at their doomed situation, yet their shared descent into misery resonates deeply.
As a captivated spectator, I find myself in the expansive Barbican stage, adorned sparsely with a substantial gathering of reeds at its heart, providing comical access points for performers throughout the show. Behind this setup lies a curving opaque barrier, while the front presents a ramp leading straight to the audience’s first rows, accompanied by garden chairs and a pair of microphone stands. The auditorium is filled with the melodious tunes of birdsong, setting the stage for an unexpected beginning – none other than Zachary Hart, breaking the Chekhovian mold, arriving in style on a dune buggy, clutching an electric guitar.
He jokes with the audience, saying, “I guess this isn’t what you were expecting,” and then asks, “Who’s ready for some energy?” He begins to sing Billy Bragg’s “The Milkman of Human Kindness.” Suddenly, a character appears through the greenery, taking puffs from an e-cigarette. This is Masha (played by Tanya Reynolds), who exclaims, “I’m grieving for my life.” Hart’s character, Simon Medvedenko, responds by saying he would walk for an hour just to experience your indifference. And as the play progresses, Chekhov becomes more prominent.
Those two are among several couples entangled in a tragic romantic carousel. Simon, a factory worker, harbors affection for Masha, the daughter of the estate manager Shamrayev (Paul Higgins); Masha, on the other hand, is smitten with Konstantin (Kodi Smit-McPhee), the nephew of estate owner Sorin (Jason Watkins). Konstantin, in turn, adores Nina (Emma Corrin), a neighbor, who later develops feelings for Trigorin (Tom Burke), a renowned writer who arrives with his lover, Konstantin’s mother, the actress Irina Arkadina (Cate Blanchett). It is worth noting that Arkadina only cherishes herself.
On the outskirts, the local physician, Dr. Dorn (Paul Bazely), is secretly involved with Masha’s mother, Paulina (Priyanga Burford). However, he doesn’t seem fully invested in their relationship. Dr. Dorn plays a unique role as a character who exhibits some degree of self-awareness, often observing events from an outsider’s perspective and offering encouragement to young Konstantin as he strives to become a writer.
Throughout the story, romantic entanglements serve as a driving force, but at its heart, the relationship between mother and son takes center stage. Regrettably, Konstantin consistently falls short in capturing Arkadina’s affection or admiration for his pursuits.
Prior to her grand entrance, the setting is established by others first. Simon, a factory worker and enthusiast of Bragg, openly discusses the underlying class tensions and snobbery that seethe beneath the play’s facade. Sorin, brilliantly portrayed by Watkins as a pathetic, broken-down character, depicts the countryside as a place where people go to spend their final days. Konstantin (Smit-McPhee in his stage debut), on the other hand, criticizes his mother as a narcissist who views him as an unwelcome reminder of time’s passage and delivers a passionate speech against her theater for being outdated and lacking significance.
The statement made later in the story serves as a subtle foreshadowing to the audience. Later on, Konstantin expresses his intention to halt funding for cultural projects involving individuals over 40, which mirrors Ostermeier’s past contentious remark about directors retiring at that age, considering he is now beyond 40. However, this production also provokes a significant query: the purpose and function of art – questioning if it holds any significance at all – when society is in chaos.
Blanchett’s diva style certainly makes a bold entrance. Clad in a lavender jumpsuit, biker jacket, and sunglasses, she exudes an air of defying her age – striding with exaggerated, swaggering poses, frequently tossing her hair back dramatically in slow motion, even breaking into a tap dance routine that culminates in a flexible split, each cringe-worthy second only serving to highlight Arkadina’s self-absorption.
The performance will remain delightfully entertaining with its physical and comedic elements. However, it doesn’t make the character any deeper (her most emotional moments, like when Trigorin admits his feelings for Nina, appear rehearsed, as if she has played this part before). Moreover, her indifference doesn’t diminish the harm it causes to her son, a damage that is all too real.
Konstantin’s unique portrayal of his symbolist play takes an unusual and comical turn when the performer equips the audience with VR equipment, lifting the suspended Nina aloft while she delivers her New Age soliloquy. However, it all gets disrupted when his mother interrupts the act. If Blanchett’s performance stirs curiosity for her role as Claire Zacahanassian in Dürrenmatt’s “The Visit,” Corrin’s performance hints at a compelling Ariel he might play in “The Tempest.
Occasionally, incorporating elements like these can disrupt the authenticity of a timeless piece. The setting, however, is loosely defined – it’s more modern and flexible, echoing the 1980s through Bragg and The Stranglers, yet also resonating with today’s era by including vapes, cellphones, and references to the current cost-of-living crisis. Despite this seemingly random approach, there’s a purposeful chaos at play, which is largely due to the excellent modern adaptation – it’s both innovative and sharp, yet filled with poignant, touching moments. The cast is exceptional; there are no mediocre performances here, only actors skillfully balancing the act of walking a tightrope of tones.
Displaying a casual, melancholic air and dressed casually in swim shorts, Burke (who can currently be seen alongside Blanchett in Steven Soderbergh’s Black Bag) convincingly portrays Trigorin as an individual overly absorbed by his own thoughts. His depiction of a writer’s life as solitary and compulsive fails to discourage the aspiring actress, Nina, from her innocent pursuit of fame. Despite their contrasting personalities, the pivotal scene between them is beautifully romantic; it’s only natural that they will become lovers, yet equally predictable that their relationship won’t endure.
In the initial sequences, Corrin’s composure seems to bolster Nina, making her subsequent breakdown even more poignant. Similarly, the rage and indignation portrayed by Smit-McPhee’s character, Konstantin, become all the more heartbreaking as they are eventually overpowered by vulnerability.
Reynolds gives Masha a toughness, both bitter and amusing, and her conducting of a bingo game at the play’s end brings back some dark humor right before tragedy occurs. Would you like to play, she proposes to Sorin. “Just let me perish,” he replies. In a minor role as the cuckolded Shamrayev, Higgins skillfully utilizes his scenes. His character’s reminiscences of past performances always seem to miss the mark: he found humor in Medea because the child actors kept winking during their death scenes; the applause at the opera was more impressive than the performances themselves.
However, unlike Shamrayev who unintentionally undermines art, Ostermeier and Macmillan do not follow suit. As the play’s atmosphere darkens (with a stormy sky, thunder, rain, and mournful guitar), its objective becomes evident. Although Trigorin laments the struggle of writing to grasp another’s life, this is exactly what The Seagull strives to accomplish with determination and integrity.
Location: Barbican Theatre, London
Performers: Cate Blanchett, Paul Bazely, Priyanga Burford, Tom Burke, Emma Corrin, Zachary Hart, Paul Higgins, Tanya Reynolds, Kodi Smit-McPhee, Jason Watkins
Author: Anton Chekhov (adapted by Duncan Macmillan and Thomas Ostermeier)
Director: Thomas Ostermeier
Set Designer: Magda Willi
Costume Designer: Marg Horwell
Lighting Designer: Bruno Poet
Sound Designer: Tom Gibbons
Co-presented by Wessex Grove, Gavin Kalin Productions, and the Barbican.
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2025-03-08 01:25