The Seagull @ Mad Cow

The Seagull at Mad Cow is absolutely wondrous. David and I saw it yesterday at the matinee! Even the talkback - which was filled with wise and insightful bluehairs - was wonderful.

Some thoughts:

Oftentimes, long, languid stretches in plays can be deadly to an audience. But if the mood is right and the actors are superb – as they both are in this production - these moments can actually create an environment the audience can treasure and learn from. I cannot believe how much I loved the pauses! I hate pauses normally!

The plot is fairly easy – an aging actress has brought her gloomy son and her famous writer boyfriend to her family estate in the country. The son – with a bit of Oedipal drive – writes a small play to impress his mom; he casts a local country girl that he has fallen in love with as the only actor. The play fails and the country girl falls in love with the famous playwright, and from there on it only gets worse.

There are other characters – the brooding estate manager’s daughter, Masha, is in love with the actress’ son. A school teacher is in love with Masha. The estate manager’s wife and a charming doctor are ending a long affair. But largely, the play is about the pointless competition the actress’ son wages on the oblivious playwright – a competition for his mother’s affection, the country girl’s love, and fame and fortune as a writer.

One thing I have always loved about Russian playwright Anton Chekov is that he never wrote about truly selfless or perfect people. There are no moustache-twirling villains, but there are no pure damsels in distress or dashing heroes either. Chekov’s people are usually not malicious or unfeeling, but all of his characters want what they want without thought on how it affects the others around them. Chekov himself was actually forging a new type of theatre – a theatre not built on the histrionics and melodrama and plot of other current theatre around him – but one realistically built on egocentric, flawed people and the telling moments in their lives. In this way, Chekov allows the audience to be god-like, passive observers of how they themselves can be unknowingly self-centered and imperfect and yet still loveable.

Chekov called this comedy – this ability for the audience to see the beauty and warts that the characters themselves seem unable to see. And in a way, it can be funny. And even enlightening.

But anyone who has seen a bit of theatre can tell you how a Chekov play can go horribly wrong. His scripts can be incredibly heavy and dour. The plays can seem indeterminable. The thin plots, the long pauses, and the even-longer speeches can be deadly, boring, and life-draining. Chekov for a theatre person is like "eat your vegetables;" you do it not because you like it because it's supposedly good for you.

This production at Mad Cow seems to know this; everything seems bent on keeping the play light and agile yet still realistic to Chekov’s intent. The set is light and papery. The actors gamely take on their parts with love and humor but without weight. The music and sound are charming and lilting. The light is dappled. The scene changes are even airy; the actors stay in character and move pieces around as if in a hazy dream.

What this light approach achieves is a power that many other productions miss. There is the two minutes or so that everyone onstage freezes, lost in their own little worlds, listening to distant music. In a bad production, this would seem like undue punishment for an audience. Here, watching memories glimmer across the actress’ shining face, watching the manager’s wife’s eyes fill with tears over her unrequited love, watching the dull school teacher stare at his beloved as she sinks further into self-pity, these pauses are powerful and affecting. There are moments like this throughout the entire play.

The playwright Arthur Miller said that the Russians went to theatre to have their lives changed. A brilliant production of Chekov – like this one – shows us all how it’s done, allowing audiences two hours of release and still, an omniscient view into our own lives, our own faults, and our own indestructible beauty.

Marty Stonerock is an absolute wonder as the vain, aging actress; it's lovely to see this under-rated actress finally get a great part to shine in. Tommy Keesling is perfectly appropriate as the famous but distracted playwright. Robin Olsen is heart-breaking as the lovesick manager's wife pining after the charming local doctor. All over beautiful performances.