Written by Anton Chekov

Adapted by Tom Stoppard

Directed by Orly Benn

Review by Marina Funcasta

My dreams with the seagulls fly

Out of reach

Out of cry

Joni Mitchell’s Song to a Seagull opens EUTC’s most recent production of Chekhov’s infamous tragicomedy. Resounding from the balcony, our Nina, played with austerity by Daisy Casemore, emerges as if in flight. Far from a Romantic portrayal of a hopeless heroine, this balcony scene sets out to be the opposite of its Romeo and Juliet counterpart. From the onset, Orly Benn’s production evokes a thwarted, restless, but hopeful cry for a life beyond – beyond the balcony, the lake, even the stage.

The decision to enliven the theatrical periphery underscores the brilliance of Benn’s vision. Making use of the space afforded around the proscenium arch interpolates the audience directly into the performance. This invigorates the metatheatrical dimension of the script, and the result is emboldening. This is particularly the case for actors like Ava Vaccari, who stands out for her firm, though tempestuous, performance as the inimitable matriarch Irina Arkadina. At once influential and volatile, Vaccari flutters between emotions like a histrionic butterfly. The production must thank Vaccari, along with Samuel Clarke who plays Shamraev, for bringing the more comedic pockets of Chekhov’s script to light.

Transitions see the set undergo a similar metamorphosis. In a stylised sequence, Benn directs her ensemble to deconstruct Emilie Noelle’s evocative design, trading a rural landscape for a domestic one. This is followed by a tightly harmonised rendition of In the Bleak Midwinter, The Bonnie Banks o’ Loch Lomond and Auld Lang Syne, much to the credit of musical directors Linus Sheaff and Liam Jackson. What remains is the moon, meticulously designed by Felix Beddow. A solemn reminder of the passage of time, it is true that by the second half “the unhappy moon now lights her lamp in vain”.

The set, much like the production as a whole, embodies the gentle poetry of Stoppard’s translation. The effect is melodious; the play flows like a lullaby. This is predominantly due to Benn’s masterful pacing. This is hinted towards in conversational corners during the first half: a prime example was shown during Nina’s more pensive moments, which are extricated from the action by giving Casemore a guitar. This a pivotal addition. Existing on stage more as a character than a prop, the guitar is played intermittently by Liam Jackson, performing the role of Yakov.

What emerges is a tender mosaic of hope and heartache. Though taking place in a world very distant from Bedlam Theatre, the audience is lulled into a dream world where lakes and seagulls are fleetingly embodied. Both by the actors, but also by the audience ourselves. Reality teeters on the edge of this smooth production, but we readily ignore it, compelled to suspend our disbelief by the stellar performances and semiotics alike. Blending Chekhov’s archaic themes with contemporary aesthetics, Benn demonstrates the maturity and elegance of her world – the world where the seagulls fly, and we fly with them.

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