Broadway Reviews

The Seagull

Theatre Review by Matthew Murray - October 2, 2008

The Seagull by Anton Chekhov, in a new version by Christopher Hampton. Directed by Ian Rickson. Scenic and costume design by Hildegard Bechtler. Lighting design by Peter Mumford. Sound design by Ian Dickinson. Composer Stephen Warbeck. Cast: Kristin Scott Thomas, Peter Sarsgaard, Mackenzie Crook, with Art Malik, Carey Mulligan, Pearce Quigley, Peter Wight, Zoe Kazan, Ann Dowd, Julian Gamble, Christopher Patrick Nolan, Mary Rose, Mark Montgomery.
Theatre: Walter Kerr Theatre, 219 West 48th Street between Broadway & 8th Avenue
Running time: 2 hours 40 minutes, with one intermission
Important Notice: Performances begin promptly. Latecomers will be seated at the discretion of management.
. Audience: May be inappropriate for 12 and under. Children under 4 are not permitted in the theater.
Schedule: Tuesday at 7pm, Wednesday through Saturday at 8pm, Wednesday and Saturday at 2pm, Sunday at 3pm. .
Ticket prices: Orchestra and Mezzanine (Rows A - F) $110, Mezzanine (Rows G-J) $77, Balcony $41. Select Premium and Aisle Locations: Premium Seating $252, Aisle Seating $135 (May only be purchased in pairs.)
Tickets: Telecharge

The Seagull
Kristin Scott Thomas
Photo by Joan Marcus.

How often are squelched laugh lines a hidden blessing? There’s long been a resistance to appraising Anton Chekhov’s plays as the comedies he originally labeled them, so even the lightest-handed productions are usually accompanied with a heaping helping of dour. So at first blush it’s uncertain that any mounting of The Seagull that loses one of its comedy perennials would be able to replace it with anything more compelling. But the Royal Court Theatre’s solid revival, which premiered in London in 2007 and has just reopened at the Walter Kerr, has found an excellent substitute: the truth.

As directed by Ian Rickson, when the actress Arkadina muses, “I could play a girl of 15,” for once the joke is not on her. This line is one of the major waypoints for this role, an anchor around which an entire characterization can be built. When played straight, Arkadina looks deluded; when it’s self-conscious, she’s regretful; and when it’s mocking, she withers away right into pathetic. But the wonderful Kristin Scott Thomas has happened upon a more infrequent but powerfully telling variation: Don’t play the line at all - just live it.

If you’re seated close enough to the stage, and if you peer very intently at Scott Thomas’s brow, you might notice a line or two that belies Arkadina’s claim. But that much work really is required. Bearing an impeccable figure, a warmly affected poise, and most importantly a plangent coquettishness, this Arkadina appears as precisely the masterfully preserved work of classical art she always strives to impersonate. She’s aware she can’t hold off the ravaging effects of racing years forever, but for now she is still in complete (if fading) control.

The Seagull
Mackenzie Crook and Kristin Scott Thomas.
Photo by Joan Marcus.

The Seagull, like so many of Chekhov’s works, thrives on the relativistic concerns surrounding time’s unforgiving nature. This production’s nimble new version of the text, by Christopher Hampton, crystallizes this for modern audiences, displaying - with a minimum of stonehearted filigree - the lasting benefits and detriments of living life only to beat the clock. With Scott Thomas at the center of it all reducing studied agelessness to an exact and successful science, and several key castmates flawlessly complementing that vision, portions of this production stand as among the most inventive reconsiderations of the work to hit New York stages in quite a while.

Purists, however, may balk at some of the new avenues revealed by Rickson and his company as a result of Hampton’s and Scott Thomas’s youthening of the play. Arkadina’s barely receded beauty forces a refashioning of her relationship with her struggling-writer son Konstantin (Mackenzie Crook, every bit the “petty bourgeois from Kiev” Konstantin sees in himself): His ongoing quest for “new forms” seems more futile than ever opposite a mother who never convincingly embodies the old ways he’s rebelling against. Nina (Carey Mulligan), his lust-worthy, aspiring-actress muse, at times seems more robustly old-fashioned, grudgingly accepting the evolving ways you never believe she believes in - truly an empty-vessel star in the making.

Such twisting also gives Konstantin and Nina’s interactions an intriguing undercurrent that echoes Freudian ideas about boys wanting to marry their mothers. It even receives a clever counterpart in Nina’s own yearnings for Trigorin, the middlebrow writer who’s Arkadina’s current companion and is played by the unusually avuncular Peter Sarsgaard with a spine-snapping world-weariness. Trigorin’s tentative manner, careful voice, and even more reluctant talent make him appear older than both Nina and Arkadina, suggesting that groping at the past is more debilitating for him than for anyone else. And the walls of unrequited longing between him and Nina especially cast a dispiriting shadow over the man Trigorin thinks he’s supposed to be.

The Seagull
Peter Sarsgaard with Carey Mulligan.
Photo by Joan Marcus.

Were it not for the chemistry of the central foursome, it’s unlikely this gambit of reordering the central players would work. But the actors’ resolute maturity prevents the characters’ burnished game-playing from ever descending into soap-opera hysterics. In fact, the opposite occurs: The third and the fourth acts continue the group’s elegant into emotional obscurity, leaving you to see exactly what all their tussling with illusions has cost them. This is never more clear than with Mulligan, whose Nina ends as just the jaded artist her earliest appearances predict. But everyone so accepts as fact the pervasive dread that even before the ultimate conclusion it’s pointless for them to try to cheat death. In some way, each one is dead already.

The rest of the production, if hardly moribund, is less innovative. The set and costumes (Hildegard Bechtler) and the lights (Peter Mumford) are exquisitely shabby representations of life on the estate of Arkadina’s brother, Sorin, but presage too much by being in mourning for the world long before the characters are. The other actors, too, haven’t found much in the way of new forms: Peter Wight dissolves with a too-anxious rapidity as the ailing Sorin; Pearce Quigley and Zoe Kazan, as the cat-and-mouse schoolteacher Medvedenko and the servant girl Masha, can’t overcome their own superfluity opposite a Konstantin and Nina who fulfill their typically reflective roles in the story.

Perhaps the most fascinating casualty is Art Malik. His doctor Dorn is strangely vague, noticeably less in tune than tends to be the case with the deeper meanings of the sea changes taking place around him. This is not, however, surprising, and under Rickson’s leadership, you don’t much miss him. The battles that Arkadina, Trigorin, Konstantin, and Nina wage with their own obsolescence are far more interesting this time around, and don’t need a realist to expose them.

The saddest and scariest thing about these people is that when they’re about to walk to their doom, they’re doing it with their eyes wide open. They’ve seen firsthand the boundaries between truth and fiction, even as they blur them themselves, and are forsaking those lessons, probably to their own peril. When this Seagull is setting up and paying off such moments, it’s the youngest, freshest show on Broadway.


Past Broadway Reviews

Terms of Service

[ © 1997 - 2014 www.TalkinBroadway.com, Inc. ]