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Uncle VanyaTranslated by Curt Columbus Directed by Sheldon PatinkinJune 23, 2001 - July 29, 2001
Steppenwolf Theatre Company Steppenwolf's production of Uncle Vanya puts a gentler spin on Anton Chekov's tale of wasted years and unrequited love, bringing out more of the human comedy and taking out some of the sting. Upon the versatile thrust stage of the Steppenwolf Studio Theatre, diversely becoming a warm June garden, a Victorian-era dining room, a spacious living room, and Vanya's own homely chamber, nine actors remind us through comedy and pathos to seize the moment, to take the chance, to act: by demonstrating the follies of our love and the perils of our own inaction. Warm lighting and a gem of a set combine to take the imagination on a flight to a turn-of-the-century Russian country estate. Acts I and II move the cast of characters through the feints and false starts, the false trails and dead ends of everyday congress, alternately funny and wry. The cat's-cradle of interactions plays love - love and illusion, unrequited love, love and the foolish mooncalf idleness that accompanies it - against themes of missed opportunity, the lost chance. The cadence of country life is disturbed by the Professor's expectance to be the center of attention, alternately admired, and coddled; by the professorial couple's city rhythms, inappropriate to the working, rural scene; and by Yelena's sleek urban beauty amidst the country personalities. While Vanya sways between mooncalf looks of love toward Yelena, and impotent, angry self-pity, Astrov muses on his saplings, his handlebar moustache, and his own eccentricity. A dreamy inaction and languor have overtaken the household, but it is an unproductive leisure - as anyone who has had a "crush" knows, all other events fall into insignificance beside the love interest - and even the hay on Vanya's working estate is rotting in the fields, ungathered. Acts III and IV pick up the pace, with the plot shuttling deftly among humor and drama, wryness and desperation. The ensemble gains surefootedness as illusions are shattered, the urbans challenge the rurals, and love is misled and baffled with the adroitness of a French farce. Vanya's feeling of wasted years is brought to a crisis. The loves and lives tumble in part to resolution, in part to irresolution. Much of the love comes to nothing, and the guests finally depart leaving the ruin of the summer behind. Sonya (performed by Heather Anne Prete in the performance reviewed) brings to Act IV especially an ingenuous sweetness, taking up the mantle of courage and common sense in the final soliloquy.
Uncle Vanya's comedy is very human - funny, without being "zany" - and the ensemble plays lovesickness in its many guises so well, that the ache and foolishness of being in love strike close to home. Austin Pendleton (Vanya) and Jeff Perry (Astrov) play well against one another as the dogged, summer-love-sick estate-manager and the active, environmentally-minded doctor; they are fittingly matched as complementary forces, friends as well as rivals, different yet reciprocal natures. Pendleton brings to Vanya a contemporary, Woody Allen angst and some rather appealing lickerish looks, as well as the capacity for a desperation that moves us as he comes face to face with the falseness of his idols and the sterility of his life, a long road of untaken opportunities. Jeff Perry as Astrov moves with facility between comic and compelling, presenting a magnetic, engaging, human portrayal of the doctor, equally vulnerable to the beauty of saplings and Yelena's charms. Enticing the both of them, Sally Murphy is a sleek, classy urbanite Yelena, a hesitant siren bored with the country quiet but finding country acts of charity ludicrous. Robert Brueler brings a certain pompous logic to Professor Serebryakov; by day moving with weighty years of academic royalty, by night, sick with gout, querulous as a child. Kirk Anderson balances the menfolk as a humorously meek Waffles, while Rondi Reed, in peasant garb, is a stolid, matter-of-fact, loving Marina (Nanny), the bulwark of the household. Ann Wakefield, looking much like Whistler's Mother, plays Marya as a spinster long-dedicated to the professor's cause. Set, lighting and sound join in an accomplished blend, and the swift changes that transform the platform of the stage from scene to scene show what a few well-placed props can do. The costuming is, for the most part, excellent (Yelena's outfits are splendid, scene after scene), although a few odd notes are struck in Vanya's band collar shirt and open waistcoat, which seem extremely casual for the setting - one would expect him to deck himself out for his love-interest. The space itself, Steppenwolf's Studio Theatre, is intimate, and most of the seats are right at ringside, as it were, for a superbly close experience of the acting. Chekhov's Uncle Vanya can be played with bitterness and despair, or it can be played with the reminder of hope. Steppenwolf's production chooses the latter. In the end, a certain equilibrium is restored - moody, perhaps, but with the smallest promise of realization and real change. What we comes away with is hope not so much for Vanya and company, but for ourselves. The characters in Uncle Vanya remind us of the importance of carpe diem and tempus fugit, of the follies of our love and the perils of our own inaction. It is a loving shove on the back, a voice whispered in the ear: "Go on! Hurry up and live!" With a 2-1/2 hour runtime, Steppenwolf's Uncle Vanya is a substantial evening of good theatre. This particular production is a new translation from the Russian by Steppenwolf artistic associate Curt Columbus. The production runs from June 23, 2001 through Sunday, July 29, 2001 in Steppenwolf's Studio Theatre. Tickets are $15-25, available from the box office (312-335-1650) or online at www.steppenwolf.org.
Uncle Vanya Direction/Design --Katherine Rook Lieber |
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