Theatre review: The Seagull

Hot on the heels of a Three Sisters that found a bit more humour than usual in one of the bleaker Chekhovs comes a Seagull that focuses on the melancholy of one of the ones that's officially a comedy. Duncan Macmillan and director Thomas Ostermeier's adaptation keeps all four acts in the al fresco location where only the first usually takes place: The lakeside dacha of retired civil servant Peter Sorin (Jason Watkins,) whose insistence that the fresh country air doesn't agree with him helps him and everyone else ignore just how bad his health actually is. Spending the summer there as usual is his sister Irina Arkádina (Cate Blanchett,) a famous actress, with her new boyfriend Alexander Trigorin (Tom Burke,) a bestselling novelist. But we begin with Arkádina's son Konstantin (Kodi Smit-McPhee,) an aspiring playwright who's premiering an experimental play he's convinced is the future of art.

It's probably fair to say that Konstantin's play - which here becomes a virtual reality extravaganza with Emma Corrin suspended from the flies in a motion capture suit - won't be troubling the history books, and doesn't even reach the end of its premiere performance. But this evening sets the next couple of years' events in motion, thanks to Konstantin's obsession with his leading lady Nina (Corrin) and his mother's dismissive response to his work.

Magda Willi's set design is the most memorable visual of Ostermeier's production, with the actors mostly sitting on deckchairs in front of a central cornfield; a lot of the characters make their entrances and exits by wandering through the tall plants, especially in the opening act; it's a pretty satisfying way of showing the listlessness of many Chekhov characters without making them actively boring, and gives a dreamlike quality to their lives outside of this group. By contrast downstage are two mic stands where the characters deliver those speeches that have a bit of ambiguity over whether they're addressing each other or the audience.

I didn't like the couple of little inside references to these expressionistic touches, which feel like a smug reference to London audiences being a lot more conservative in their tastes than they actually are, but in any case the production itself is actually pretty traditional at heart - Macmillan and Ostermeir's text has modern-day references but is essentially faithful, and the focus is, successfully, on the emotional lives of the characters.

Probably most successful of all is the depiction of the chain of unrequited love through the play, in which Simon (Zachary Hart) loves Masha (Tanya Reynolds,) who loves Konstantin, who loves Nina, who will eventually have a disastrous affair with Trigorin. Reynolds has a great understated watchability - she conveys a lifetime of emotion and disappointment largely by standing on the sidelines vaping. The other standout among the supporting cast is Watkins, who brings out the essential kindness and lack of self-absorption that marks Peter out over the rest, even while he's bemoaning a wasted life and, eventually, accepting the end of it.

Arkádina being a grand dame of the stage means the part often attracts similarly beloved big names - ones I've seen include Dench, Sharp and Duckface - and here there's again a slightly too self-referential nod to the part being played by someone who's become a big star despite not being able to spell Kate. Or Blanket. But it's definitely an interesting performance: Certainly we see the monster who can't stop belittling her son and refocusing attention on herself even when he's recovering from a suicide attempt; but there's also a moment when we see her sing a song to (successfully) comfort him, and which is clearly something she's done since he was a child, but still in such a dramatic way that we see to what extent she's actually unable to engage with any emotion outside of making it a performance.

Corrin is also interesting - their Nina is damaged in the final act but not quite as close to madness as she's usually portrayed, which is perhaps even sadder, as she's wandering through life (and cornfields) in full knowledge of where she is and what she's lost. This final act, which is conducted almost in whispers, is really well-done, but suffers a bit from how long the play's become (coming in well over the three-hour mark) and I would have appreciated it more if we could have sped through some of the earlier scenes to let it have its full impact (Act III in particular has some energy dips.)

It doesn't help that the running time has been added to by Hart performing a Billy Bragg song at the top of every act, which is fun enough at the time but doesn't contribute much overall - and taken in conjuction with An Enemy of the People just gives the impression that it's Ostermeier himself who's the frustrated middle-aged rocker playing covers in his garage. So I'm not sold on some of the production's indulgences, which bring it in at roughly half an hour longer than most Seagulls I've seen, and don't think they're really serving the performances - but taken in themselves those performances are very strong.

The Seagull by Anton Chekhov in a version by Duncan Macmillan and Thomas Ostermeier is booking until the 5th of April at the Barbican Theatre.

Running time: 3 hours 15 minutes including interval.

Photo credit: Marc Brenner.