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Uncle Vanya
Dec. 30th, 2002 08:47 amLast Friday Maudlinkitty and I went to the American Repertory Theatre's production of Uncle Vanya, it was amazing. I was completely enthralled, I can see why Chekov is called a master of the short story. From the first scene you're drawn into the lives of these desperately unhappy people, and the tension gets turned up and up and it's like the characters are a minefield of frustration and self-loathing, and still they go on, hunched and burning under the crushing weight of their lives.
The set is incredibly well done; the dingy, grimy walls of a dead country inn, they've built a ceiling that cantilevers out over the audience, it focuses the attention and enhances the sensation of oppressive weight. The lighting and sound are wonderfully done, too; with one notable and unfortunate exception at the end, it's all subtle and evocative of the mood, time and place. That notable exception was not in the original play (so Maudlinkitty tells me, she read it on the train ride in, I have not had the pleasure), I found it jarring and unnecessary, but forgivable in the broader scope of the production's brilliance. The two lead actors play off each other so well, absolutely riveting...you find yourself hanging onto every word, every syllable's inflection, every grief stricken cry and moan of this Russian melodrama and it never seems overdone.
The costumes are excellent, of course, done by Rachel Lady Bathory, from whom I scored the free tickets. They are not as elaborate as the ones in Marat/Sade, but that was a French insane asylum, hard to beat that for extravagant license. Several weeks ago I had a delightful conversation with LadyB in which she told me all about how they made the Marat/Sade costumes look like they were stained with saliva, cum or shit, all based on the individual inmate's particular psychosis. Now that's dedication.
The set is incredibly well done; the dingy, grimy walls of a dead country inn, they've built a ceiling that cantilevers out over the audience, it focuses the attention and enhances the sensation of oppressive weight. The lighting and sound are wonderfully done, too; with one notable and unfortunate exception at the end, it's all subtle and evocative of the mood, time and place. That notable exception was not in the original play (so Maudlinkitty tells me, she read it on the train ride in, I have not had the pleasure), I found it jarring and unnecessary, but forgivable in the broader scope of the production's brilliance. The two lead actors play off each other so well, absolutely riveting...you find yourself hanging onto every word, every syllable's inflection, every grief stricken cry and moan of this Russian melodrama and it never seems overdone.
The costumes are excellent, of course, done by Rachel Lady Bathory, from whom I scored the free tickets. They are not as elaborate as the ones in Marat/Sade, but that was a French insane asylum, hard to beat that for extravagant license. Several weeks ago I had a delightful conversation with LadyB in which she told me all about how they made the Marat/Sade costumes look like they were stained with saliva, cum or shit, all based on the individual inmate's particular psychosis. Now that's dedication.
