The Seagull

During one period of his career, jazz trumpeter Miles Davis would play with his back to the audience. By getting out of his own way and shedding the trappings of self, he set the piece of music free to mine the depths of his moods. (He may have had other, more or less esoteric reasons, but that’s always been my take.)

Director Libby Appel’s evocative production of Anton Chekhov’s “Seagull” reminded me of Miles and the impact this “style” had on audiences. By turning her back on some of the more traditional trappings and stripping the production to its psychological essences—as the playwright did with a script where the consequential action happens off-stage—Appel manages to mine the emotional bedrock of her characters.

The result is an often-profound experience as she journeys her audience across an unrelenting and ever-shifting landscape of moods.

The result too, of Appel’s patient approach coupled with Chekhov’s intention not to pander to audiences’ desire for immediate gratification—is a theatre experience that feels, at least at first blush, to be lacking in punch and intensity.

In fact, had I written this review immediately after leaving the New Theatre—as most critics must do—I might have expressed my disappointment in words echoing some of the tamer critiques of Miles Davis’ performances as alienating, introverted and off-putting. I might have harped on the fact that, simply, not much happens on stage.

Days later, however, having thoroughly marinated in the moodiness of this production, absorbing its more delicate and subtle flavors, the impact Appel may have been striving for seems apparent. I can appreciate how she illuminated the subtext with silences, allowing the white spaces of time to be woven into a tapestry in four dimensions. I’m glad I waited to write.

I’m glad I waited to write.

The story, set on a 19th Century Russian farm, is about unrequited love. Everywhere you look, you will find a lost soul yearning. A schoolteacher, Medvedenko (Jonathan Dyrud) loves young Masha (Kate Hurster) who longs to be in arms of Konstantin who adores Nina, the girl next door (Nell Geisslinger) who becomes enamored with the writer, Trigorin (Al Espinosa) who is the lover of the actress Arkadina (Kathryn Meisle). Wait, wait, there’s more! Masha’s mother, Polina (Lisa Wolpe), who’s married to Shamrayev (John Pribyl), the estate manager, loves the doctor, Dorn (Armando Duran).

Upon a stage painted in a dappled blue, suggesting the depths of a nearby lake, these littered love triangles float by like ships passing in the night, flashing their lights in recognition, but never seeing or truly being seen. This, of course, is the undercurrent of a play in which the characters are seriously self-absorbed, sad and sadly funny, as Masha when she proclaims, “I am in mourning for my life.” I had to suppress the urge to slap some sense into them to simply get a life.

The set design by Christopher Acebo, which, along with the painted stage floor, features only minimal furniture and area rugs, keeps the audience at an emotional arm’s length, providing sturdy support for Appel’s vision. The same can be said for Alexander V. Nichols’ lighting design and the street-clothes realism of Deborah M. Dryden’s costumes.

Appel’s most impactful artistic decision—and the one to which I strongly disagree—was to tap a literal translation of the Russian script by Allison Horsley. I appreciate that the thoroughly Americanized language and syntax makes for a clear and comprehensible script and serves the mission by assuring that audiences would not be distracted from experiencing the emotional depths.

Yet, cutting the cords to Mother Russia linguistically, and setting the play adrift from its historical moorings, came at far too high a cost. I found myself craving the cultural context. The play cried out to me for a sense of place.

While the performances are all consistently excellent, Nell Geisslinger’s portrayal of Nina, perhaps the most densely-drawn character, was a stand-out. She captures the aspiring actress’ complexity by tapping an expansive emotional range.

“Seagull” runs through June 22 at the Angus Bowmer Theatre.