Man alive, Chekhov needed a friend, am I right? Christopher Durang could have easily made a less-funny Chekhovian play called Vanya & Sonya & Depression & Sadness and we’d all get it. Actually, it should still be funny, because Chekhov, the master, infused his gloomy, depressing (if you drink every time I use this word in this piece you will get through quarantine like a champ) classic Uncle Vanya with just as much humor as sadness, and just as much heart as melancholy, just as much humanity and sad beauty as grief. The current London production of Uncle Vanya is a fantastic, nearly flawless revival, one of the many heartbreaking casualties of this strange time of isolation. Toby Jones in the titular role redefines how fully felt this unforgettable character can be, and he leads a pretty great cast in this magnificent production.

If you don’t know Chekhov’s classic of countryside despair, Uncle Vanya tells about a man named Vanya who lives with his niece Sonya in a crumbling country estate where every day looks the same and their future looks bleak but they just go through each day doing their paperwork and drinking their vodka and, like, sighing, I guess. But excitement enters with the unwelcome arrival of Vanya’s brother/Sonya’s father Aleksandr (played by the wonderful Ciaran Hinds), a famous professor who is lauded as a genius but is really just an annoying and ignorant blowhard and my favorite part was when Vanya tried to shoot him and my least favorite part was when he missed. Aleksandr has a hot new young wife Yelena (played by understudy Afia Abusham when I saw it, who was decent but didn’t seem to quite get her footing enough to make an impression among this stellar cast) and Vanya is like OH DIP A HOT WOMAN AND ONE I’M NOT RELATED TO I HAVEN’T SEEN ONE IN YEARS! And he falls in love with her but Yelena is like mmm pass and falls instead for the hot town doctor who pays ever increasing visits since her arrival. Sadly, Sonya, who is good (and Natasha’s young and Andrei isn’t heeere) but plain is like SUPES in love with hot doctor (Richard Armitage, magnetic) but he is not attracted to her in the least even though he is as lonely as everyone else and it would be nice if he and Sonya saved each other from a life of dreary solitude but hey he just doesn’t love her you can’t force it so instead he ALSO falls for Yelena (who is MARRIED, my dudes) (okay to an old buffoon but STILL). So everyone is super unhappy and lonely and depressed because they know this is their lot in life and it will never change. Russians, man.

Toby Jones’s Vanya is, well, everything. He so completely and perfectly inhabits Vanya’s despair with every joke and gesture and gaze, a despair that informs everything Vanya says or does though he tries to keep it bubbling under the surface, at least part of the time. It’s heartbreaking that he has lived a life so barren and knows that there’s nothing he can do to change it (I mean, I’m optimistic that if he really wanted to, he could change his life, but Russians man). Jones also infuses his Vanya with a sad but incredible humor, because I admit nothing is funnier than self-hate, it’s true. His seemingly nonstop movement, even at rest, and elastic facial expressions added to the creation of a dynamic Vanya for the ages.

In a cast this starry, it’s surprising and impressive that despite Toby’s complete encompassing of his character, the standout is young Aimee Lou Wood as Sonya. I can’t think of a more efficient performance in recent times, with so much done with comparatively little. With only a few lines at the end of the first act, she broke my heart, and continued breaking it throughout the rest of the show. Her sad monologue that ends the show had me riveted. Husbo thought the delivery was painfully labored and it took him out, but for me, I needed all that time to breathe in between words because I was still so shaken by her final interaction with the doctor, an interaction so subtle and so exquisitely performed that I wanted to gasp but instead cried. She’s an incredible young actor that I can’t wait to see more of. Her performance is a huge part of what makes this production so beautiful, so heartbreaking, and so – one more for the road – depressing.

INFORMATION

After a 7:30pm start (probably 7:33 or so, happily not as late as most shows), Act I ended at 8:44pm and Act II at 10:12, so note that it is 12 minutes longer than it says on the official show website which might not seem like a lot to you but it’s enough to be wrong.

Vanya’s annoying mother is extra annoying because they have her smoke a lot. She has like 4 lines but it was important to establish that her character smokes?? MISS ME WITH THIS UNNECESSARY LUNG DAMAGE PLEASE.

This was supposed to run until May 2 but the world is on a break from life so I suggest reading the play and perhaps acting out all the parts with the people you are locked down with. If you are locked down alone, do all the parts yourself like when I sing “Moscow” from The Great Comet it doesn’t make you look or feel crazy no sirree I promise totally a normal thing to do.

The post Uncle Vanya at the Harold Pinter: Boy those Russians Know From Debilitating Depression appeared first on Laughfrodisiac.

I mean, man alive. If you want to feel like you’ve been punched in the gut but are really grateful for it, then you are ready for Tom Stoppard’s new, and possibly his last, play Leopoldstadt. Following an extended Jewish family from 1899 in Vienna until, well, later, the play is a heavy exploration of how this family’s fortunes changed from one generation to the next and how their country treated them over time. The giant cast and the constantly changing ages of the characters prevent real attachment to any individual – or real grasping of who’s who – but the details are less important than the serious emotional pull created in this powerful work.

And that emotional heft is considerable. Despite not fully understanding how each relative was connected (there’s a family tree in the programme, but good luck keeping it all straight (you won’t!)), those particulars weren’t necessary to understand who these people were and to care in general about what was going to happen as we get further into the 20^th century. The play achieves an almost immediate sense of intimacy with this family, helped by little glimpses of how all the members interact, throwing us right into their gatherings and conversations without wasting time explaining. The visuals help as well, with the lush Christmas celebration at the start and the same room slowly changing, and dwindling, scene by scene. 

The family quickly feels familiar, even though with each scene change and time jump you have new faces to put to somewhat-old names as well as new names and faces to try to connect to those old names you sort of remember. (Don’t think about it too hard, too too hard.) When the names do stick, the payoff is remarkable (especially when you think e.g. ‘oh that little tot Heini is supes adorbs’ and then at the last part of the show you squeaky cry remembering who he is). We follow the family through a changing Vienna and a changing Leopoldstadt, the Jewish quarter, as they go from well-to-do members of the business community, to people forbidden from working, owning property, being citizens of their own land. You know what’s coming, but it never feels predictable, only powerful. 

I’m fascinated by how a master playwright can take aspects of a show that would otherwise be somewhat trying and make it wonderful. The broken cup coming on the night of broken glass felt poetic and not at all transparent. There’s a lot of speechifying in this show, the sort where I’d often be like ‘ALRIGHT WRAP IT UP CUBA’ and think about how much more effective and efficient it would have been to express those ideas shared through dialogue or action. But the long monologues, especially between the two brothers in the first scene on what it means to be Jewish and never be able to stop being it, I found riveting. Despite several long speeches, breadth of characters instead of depth, and the overall feeling of impending doom, I never felt antsy (nor did I consider how I would fix this show, which as you know is one of my main hobbies).

As usual with plays of this subject matter, the relevance for society today is pretty overwhelming. It’s an important, powerful play that’s aware of its importance without being obvious about it. There’s so much for audiences to learn from it, especially London audiences (including one lesson from Fritz, an asshole for sure, as I wish more anti-Semites would take their lead from him and refuse to fight Jews. I mean that would help a lot of American rallies for one thing.)

All my belly-aching about how Jews and Jewishness are treated (spoiler: badly) in London theatre, and Stoppard comes along with a play doing everything right. Patrick Marber’s direction is great (jew!), Tom’s son Ed is acting in it (jew!), and not to assume things but at least some of the many Jewish-sounding names in the cast have to pan out (jews!). Aside from sobbing at the end so hard that I had literally yoga breathe to not make squeaky noises in the silent theatre, I left feeling pleased with what this powerful show does to improve London’s track record in this regard.

INFORMATION

The show is 2 ½ hours. Act I ended at 20:30 on the dot, so it’s a rare occurrence of a second act being longer but the play still being good.

We sat for the first time at Wyndham’s in the stalls boxes – it’s a private box but instead of up the sides of the theatre, it’s behind the last row of the stalls at ground level. None of the ushers seemed to know how to get to it (it has its own door from outside!) but luckily the house manager who took care of us was amazing. Weird, but we kind of loved it! There’s no one whispering behind you! No one around you bothering the everloving fork out of you! No one in front who you can see trying and failing to sneakily use their phones on their laps (although the people in front of us were full on Seinfeld-at-Schindler’s-Listing, which is forking nonsense. you’re at a HOLOCAUST SHOW. have some g-d DECENCY). Anyway would sit again.

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