A Monday Evening Visit to Uncle Vanya

Paul Rhys stars as John, our modern-day Uncle Vanya, photo courtesy of the Almeida Theatre

             Robert Icke, Associate Director at the Almeida Theatre, returns off the back of his Oresteia West End success with a reworking of Anton Chekhov’s Uncle Vanya. This production is not for the faint of heart, but rather for the seasoned theatregoer who appreciates a natural progression of events. Uncle Vanya’s aim is not to sugarcoat life, but to highlight the complexities of it – warts and all. The play spans three hours and 20 minutes, with three 10-minute intervals, so make sure you’re in it for the long haul.

             With a stream of great actors, Uncle Vanya’s cast includes: Jessica Brown Findlay (Sonya) and Tobias Menzies (Michael), both of whom you’ll know from Charlie Brooker’s Black Mirror television series, Paul Rhys (John), who is simply superb, Vanessa Kirby (Elena), Richard Lumsden (Cartwright), and Hilton McRae (Alexander) – among others.

             What I love about the Almeida is that, each time I visit, it sheds its skin to adopt a new one even more glorious than the last. Each show comes with its own unique stage assembly and I thought I was seeing things when I first set eyes on the Uncle Vanya setup. The cast is encased in a wooden frame, shaped into the bare bones of a 3D cube. Once my eyes had adjusted, I realized that the structure was in fact moving, albeit slowly. As someone on the outside looking in, as if at caged zoo animals, there is nowhere for the actors to hide. The stage places everyone in the limelight at one point or another, before it rotates to obscure some, whilst exposing others.

Elena (Vanessa Kirby) lives in a state of perpetual boredom, photo courtesy of Manuel Harlan

             The reworked play’s central plotline hints at the subtle interactions that occur amongst individuals. Alexander, a well-established professor in the city, retreats to his countryside estate with his much younger and lust-worthy second wife, Elena. Through maintaining the estate, John (the brother of Alexander’s late first wife) and Sonya (Alexander’s daughter from his first wife) keep Alexander and Elena in the lifestyle they have grown accustomed to.

             John and Michael, Alexander’s doctor, become enamored with Elena, whose exquisite beauty and vapid personality makes for a deadly combination. Meanwhile, little Sonya loves Michael from afar, hiding in the shadows while she’s outshone by her stepmother’s looks. The crux of the play arrives when Alexander suggests selling the estate for Elena’s and his own monetary gain, a declaration that unhinges John to startling proportions.

             For a Monday night, Uncle Vanya certainly provided some heavy introspective viewing, but that’s Chekhov for you. With themes of stifling boredom and a “youth is wasted on the young” undercurrent, the audience is prone to agree with Michael’s sentiment: “Life is boring.” Amongst the highs and the lows of day-to-day living, there exists a resting equilibrium, which could be described as the monotony of life. Icke’s Uncle Vanya captures that in a painstaking commentary about the cynicism of human nature.

Doctor Michael (Tobias Menzies) becomes the unassuming target of a love triangle, photo courtesy of Manuel Harlan

             The sad, hollow characters of Uncle Vanya seem to be stuck in limbo – merely surviving, rather than living. For instance, Sonya pleads with Elena, “Don’t be bored; it’s contagious.” It’s precisely that notion of boredom as contagion that floods the play. Elena manages to sap the life out of everyone around her, while not really having anything interesting to say while doing it. The soliloquys reveal a lot about the internal states of the characters. The conclusion? Perhaps it’s better not to think and not to philosophize with an intellectual mind. It can only lead to unsatisfactory ruminations, and thus, an unsatisfactory life.

             My favorite philosopher, Jean-Paul Sartre, penned “Hell is other people” in his existentialist play, No Exit, which is an absolutely enlightening read. Rather than being a physical place, Sartre suggests that hell is a metaphysical place. There’s only one word to describe being trapped in a room with vacuous, unbearable people complaining about inane, petty things, and that’s hell. Uncle Vanya perfectly embodies this idea for me. Not only are the characters tired of one another, but it’s also tiring as hell to watch them in their restless and perpetually unhappy states – ceaselessly pacing, pacing, pacing.    

John and Sonya (Jessica Brown Findlay) share a heart-to-heart, photo courtesy of Manuel Harlan

             To quote another philosopher, Albert Camus: “There is but one truly serious philosophical problem, and that is suicide. Judging whether life is or is not worth living amounts to answering the fundamental question of philosophy.” Paul Rhys as John (our modern-day Uncle Vanya) certainly grapples with this rather bleak ultimatum. He deteriorates beautifully throughout the course of the play. As he teeters on the brink of exhaustion and being fed up, he bubbles over with heart-stopping vulnerability and frailty. Just as he begins to simmer, life’s state of affairs carries on as normal without him, as if nothing ever happened. The stage continues to move at a sluggish rate, like life’s cycle, which stops for nothing and no one.

             Uncle Vanya is running at the Almeida Theatre until March 26^th. Showings of the play are relatively sold out, but you might still be able to grab Day Seats or returns. Check ticket availability here.

Mike Bartlett Ups His Game at the Almeida Theatre

Are you game?, photo courtesy of Visit London

            I almost didn’t recognize the Almeida Theatre as I made my way, not to a particular seat, but to a zone for Mike Bartlett’s play, Game. Each audience member was allocated to a different zone with its own unique vantage point. I was handed a set of headphones and entered a confined space decked out in camouflage. A cushioned seat and three television screens greeted me, along with my fellow viewers, who sat a little too close for comfort. I would soon learn that grazing arms with the person next to me would not be the most invasive encounter of the evening.

             The shutters previously obscuring my view opened and introduced a couple in their new home. With my headphones nestled securely to my head, I tuned in to the voices of Carly (Jodie McNee) and Ashley (Mike Noble). Suddenly, I was no longer an avid audience member, but a voyeur in the most Hitchcock way imaginable. The set, or should I say house, was very cleverly devised. It had all of the elements of a “dream house:” a kitchen that spilled into the living room, a spiral staircase, a hot tub, and lots of open space.

             Meanwhile, my headphones were picking up sounds from elsewhere, sounds that synchronized with what the television sets were broadcasting. It became apparent that I was looking at audience members seated in separate zones, while the actors made their rounds to each one. Not only were we watching then, but we were also being watched by unseen strangers, veiled under a cloak of camouflage.

 Carly (Jodie McNee) and Ashley (Mike Noble) move into their "dream house," photo courtesy of Keith Pattison

             Before I viewed Game, there was an air of mystery surrounding it, because I like to approach the theatre by keeping myself in the dark. That’s not to say that I don’t do my research before attending a production, but I tend to restrict my amount of knowledge pertaining to the play. Reading other reviews only clouds my own judgment and I like to enter the theatre with an open mind. I have to say, Game was not what I was expecting at all.

             Encased in their glass “cage,” Carly and Ashley became subhuman, as if I were watching animals in a zoo. As they engaged in mundane tasks like putting away groceries or more intimate exchanges such as arguments, I felt overwhelmingly uncomfortable. Most unnerving of all to witness was perhaps the sex, because I was invading this couple’s privacy, along with all of the other wide-eyed peeping Toms surrounding me. To put it bluntly, we all watched their child’s moment of conception.

             You’re probably wondering what’s the catch. Well, whenever things seem too good to be true, they probably are. Carly and Ashley were afforded their dream house in a housing crisis under one condition: they had to agree to be “game.” Paying customers would take shots at them with tranquilizer darts as they pleased, but the couple would never be forewarned as to when the shots would come. When their son was born, he was placed on the market and he dropped to the floor just like his parents, but with even more ease.

The voyeur's view, photo courtesy of Keith Pattison

             In my zone, a group of girls stumbled in during drunken mid-birthday celebrations. They thought it would be fun to take aim at Carly over and over again. Their complete lack of empathy was jarring, but it made me think of something. When humans hunt animal “game,” this same callousness and complete disregard for life is also present. Only when confronted with the reality of the human equivalent do we see the barbarity of something like trophy hunting.

             When we watch animals having sex, fighting, or with their young, we find it amusing. Yet, people have also become “game,” open to public consumption. Take the example of television series Big Brother, where people tune in to watch the lives of others in an enclosed house. I’ve never been able to grasp why this constitutes entertainment, but then we all have our own ideas of fun.

             I began to feel a bit claustrophobic, a bit panicked, as Game neared its impactful end. That was the point when conscience and ethics tag teamed and made their appearance in the play. Carly and Ashley decided that they needed to leave the “dream” behind, because the risk was becoming greater than the reward. David (Kevin Harvey), the man responsible for manning the station with the tranquilizer gun, entered the house for the first time. Carly and Ashley’s son didn’t want to leave and he was quivering underneath a cardboard box.

Photo courtesy of Keith Pattison

             The little boy had become very fond of a solider game on a handheld electronic device, so David managed to coax him out by giving him instructions and addressing him as "Soldier." Haunting, ghostly images of real military soldiers were suddenly projected onto the walls of the house and the static in my headphones became too much to bear. As a military brat, I felt overcome with emotion. The play’s program featured an article with a newspaper headline reading: “More British soldiers commit suicide than die in battle, figures suggest.” When David was left alone, presumably a former solider himself, he turned the tranquilizer gun on himself as we watched him die. Game over.

             Most of us are familiar with the character Jigsaw from the Saw horror movie franchise. He is often quoted as chillingly asking his victims, “Would you like to play a game?” before they either die or manage to survive one of his sadistic tasks. That’s what life is all about: survival. Bartlett forces the issue out into the open with his thought-provoking play.

             The “game” is really referring to the game of life, which is also the name of a board game. Again, we can play pretend in a make-believe world for a while, imitating ourselves. The board game mimics real life, with options such as a career, college, marriage, and children. Let’s not forget one of my personal favorites either, The Sims. War-based video game Call of Duty is not in fact the real deal, the real battlefield. We don’t have multiple lives or do-overs in reality. If you can make it through each day, if you can learn how to play the real game of life, you’ll come out on top as a winner.

             Game finishes its run at the Almeida Theatre today, April 4^th. Book your last minute tickets here. 

Photo courtesy of Keith Pattison