Chekhov’s ‘The Seagull’ @ Theatre Three

Photos by Jeffrey Schmidt

—Jan Farrington

NINA: So strange… to see a famous actress cry over…. nothing. And a brilliant writer who everyone knows and loves, who’s constantly in the papers, whose books are translated into every language… and all he cares about is fishing…. I thought they’d be … distant, aloof, looking down their noses …but, here they are crying, catching fish, fighting…
just like the rest of us.

Actor and playwright Blake Hackler’s fine, fresh adaptation of Anton Chekhov’s The Seagull gives a great cast at Theatre Three the opportunity to shake the dust off this legendary garden party, where human emotions—longing, love, discontent, regret—get quite a runaround in the woods.

Hackler shifts Chekhov’s 1890s script into a more familiar modern vernacular (we get the twist of emotion in Masha’s “whatever”), but keeps it nicely tied to the time frame, never upending the space-time continuum. A wry “Close, but no cigar” is funny and just right, though it’s a wisecrack of our own day—but there were cigars back then too; we’re amused, but not jolted, by the slightly time-traveling usages: “All I do is sit around like an old cigarette butt.” … “If we’re still alive, we’ll see you next summer.” … “I’ll take the early train…third class with the rest of the hicks.”

We can relate—to the language, and to the confused human emotions of this crew gathered on a country estate outside Moscow: doctor, novelist, playwright, actresses, servants, school teacher, retired gent—and a young woman in black who insists she’s “in mourning for my life.” Poor Masha; I think we’re laughing with her, but maybe not. We’ve been in that self-pitying mode, and ought to muster up some empathy—but she’s so serious.

One of the delights of Chekhov is sitting smugly outside the sad, funny human chaos of his stories…and pretending they’re not about us. Let’s start with self-sabotage: if these characters can make a bad decision, they will. So much regret over life’s choices, so many dreams of a second chance. So much resentment of people who are younger, richer, footloose, settled, brilliant. The air is full of lamentations, spoken or not, and it makes us laugh—at them, and of course at ourselves.

Even when Chekhov’s “comedies” lead to tragedy, he keeps us smiling and shaking our heads along the way. Director Joel Ferrell finds the right pitch for the proceedings, letting the energetic language (characters speak/yell over one another fairly often) carry the momentum. It’s good to remember that Anton Chekhov was one of the first to try this kind of messy, overlapping, natural, and very human dialogue on the stage. We’re so used to it now.

The younger characters are at the center of the action, with the older, more mature folk orbiting around them, trying to be examples but failing, a lot. Young playwright Konstantin (Caleb Mosley), the girlish neighbor and actress wannabee Nina (Kimberly Turner), and the estate manager’s daughter Masha (Francesca Santodomingo) have their lives and choices mostly ahead of them. The older characters have already made most of them—though some fight against knowing that.

Old Sorin (Bill Hass), owner of the family estate, is Konstantin’s uncle and a retired civil servant whose life fades as as we watch. Konstantin’s mother Arkadina (Christie Vela), a famous stage actress, believes she’s found the “last page” of her love life, the novelist Trigorin (Logan Rhys Hallwas), whose attention is easily distracted by younger faces. Estate manager and housekeeper Shamrayev (Jakie Cabe) and Polina (Jessica D. Turner)—Masha’s parents—aren’t a happy pair. He has a good line in sarcasm; she puts on the face of a happy servant, but keeps a desperate eye on hunky Dr. Dorn (Robert San Juan). Meanwhile, local teacher Medvedenko (Hunter Wilson-Leal) hopes Masha will notice him.

And so the runaround starts. Medvedenko loves Masha, Masha loves Konstantin, Konstantin loves Nina…and so on and so on, and scooby dooby doo.

These engaging ensemble performances can’t be pulled apart. Collectively, the whole of the cast seems very comfortable in the “skins” of the characters. We believe in their long friendships, their old family grievances, their changing loves. When Vela’s Arkadina snaps open a fan and stalks among them, she isn’t playing an actress, she simply is, and they don’t pay much attention. San Juan’s doctor, settled in this small place forever, both loves his caring role in the community and wishes he could get out. Hallwas’ Trigorin is a self-aware charmer, but feels colder by the moment; we’ve all met this guy. And Wilson-Leal’s Medvenko is a good man, hapless but steady, who we know, for sure, won’t find happiness in the marriage he wants.

We’re at the party, outside but involved. And maybe the next time we think “I’ll move to New York—that’ll fix everything!”…we’ll take some time to think it through.

Track Curtis’ scenic design gives us a deconstructed pile of furniture, lamps and other flotsam—un-tarped and lugged around by the cast throughout the show as they make and remake the space. Aaron Patrick DeClerk’s costumes are thoughtfully tied to the characters; wig designer Nicole Alvarez’ extravagant, piled-up “do” for Arkadina is a perfect picture of who she is. And the emotional threads and tangles among the characters were brought off so well, I’m sure intimacy director Kelsey Milbourn had something to do with it.

One of the pleasures of a great old play is listening to the echoes of theater past and present—in this case, before Anton Chekhov and after. We hear touches of Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream, of course (all those chasing lovers), and remember modern movies like Hannah and her Sisters (from Woody Allen in the Before times). It’s a theater nerd game: try to think of more.

And while you’re doing that, grab a ticket to T3’s The Seagull—Doctor Chekhov (he was, you know) says it’s good for the soul.

WHEN: April 4-28, 2024
WHERE: Theatre Three, 2688 Laclede Street, Dallas
WEB: theatre3dallas.com