THE THREEPENNY OPERA - Bertolt Brecht

I've been dreading this. I studied Brecht a little at Uni and I didn't much care for his approach.  Sometimes going through "100 Great Plays" feels like doing homework, and that's how my approach to this play felt.

Brecht is quite into a deconstructed approach to theatre... suspending the suspension of disbelief... and he wanted the audience at all times to remember they were in a performance, and I think his "cleverness" sometimes interferes with the enjoyableness (enjoyability?) of theatre. 

I do like that he liked to subvert the expectations of theatre, and individually I like a bunch of his techniques and focuses. ..breaking the fourth wall, inserting music (which seems obvious to a musical theatre loving audience today, but there was a time where it was more obviously stepping outside of the realism of a situation), and using theatre as a forum for political and philosophical ideas that may lead to critical thinking and the momentum to make change in the world once the audience leaves the theatre. Big tick on that last item.

But there were approaches and attitudes of his that I just don't agree with. He advocated 'Non-Aristotlean drama', or epic drama, in which the works can be cut up into smaller self contained bits. He claimed epic dramas, he felt, had no interest in the any investment of the audience's emotions, doesn't have an objective or a finishing point and enables the drama to be show humans interacting with larger forces in society and not just each other.

He didn't want the audience to experience catharsis but wanted them left with uncertainty and conundrums (which, ok, the latter CAN be a very good part of theatre but so too can catharsis). He didn't necessarily want an audience to identify with characters. he liked employing disorienting elements like overly bright lighting. He wanted an audience to be reminded throughout that this is not real, it's a construction, as a way of echoing that our lives are constructions and so we are capable of reconstructing ourselves and the world around us.

Overall, when I was studying Brecht and at times since, when people reference him or rave about him, I feel it's a little bit like the emperor's new clothes, or when people are talking about Pink Floyd or Dire Straits... both of whom I like but the degree of reverence directed towards them seems a bit overstated. In short, while I like some of what Brecht is doing, I also feel he's a bit of a wanker. There I said it.

I also have an issue adding musicals to this list, and that's certainly not because of disliking musical theatre. I bloody love it. But if I include the musicals I love this would be well over 200 great plays and I'm not keeping up as it is. 

Also, "The Threepenny Opera" finds itself in a debate about whether it actually IS musical theatre, or is it Opera. I wont even go there because what do I know? But including this "musical" and leaving out so many ones that I think are far better doesn't sit well. However, I am trying to give due deference to what is widely regarded as one of the great plays, and Brecht certainly has a lot of disciples, so I will include this (as one of his most renowned plays) and a few of his other works for a sense of completeness. Note. I wrote this introduction before watching and reading the play.

The history of how the story came to be

The playwright's intent for "The Threepenny Opera" is a socialist critique of the capitalist world. Playwright in this case is something of a shared title. Brecht adapted this play from "The Beggar's Opera", written by John Gay (words) and Johann Pepusch (music) in 1728. It was a ballad opera, meaning it used popular musical styles, often spoken dialog and were performed to comic effect. This play in particular took the piss out of the love of Italian Operas by the well-to-do.

Brecht, using a translation by Elisabeth Hauptman, stuck with the original characters and plot and changed the libretto and quite a bit of the music, with the new pieces written by Kurt Weill and Francois Villon. And just on that, Brecht used the songs by Frenchman Villon, translated by K L Ammer, somewhat freely (ie without permission) and when criticised about it replied he had a "fundamental laxity in questions of literary property." Boo. Hiss. Am I getting into the fourth wall breaking enough?

So they've got the original piece and reworked it into German with some modified thematic focuses, and subsequently the revised work has been translated back to English (and many other languages). Kind of like money laundering, but with scripts. 

The Show itself

I have to say, I quite like the base story. MacHeath, or Mack the Knife (yep, that guy... and I'll come back to that) is the leader of a gang that robs and murders, commits arson and rapes. He's a calculating, dishonest, amoral and (quite bravely for its time) sexually ambiguous lothario, obsessed with sex and serial non-monogamy, and very selfishly focused on violence, money and power. Not the nicest guy. 

He falls for and marries Polly Peachum, whose father is also an underworld figure... in his case, the boss of a protection racket enacted by all of beggars in London. Jonathan Peachum controls his crew by coercion, threats and actual violence. Also not a nice guy.

Mr Peachum is not at all impressed by the marriage of his daughter to MacHeath, and has MacHeath arrested and sentenced to be hanged. But, with help from some of MacHeath's exes, and a Chief of Police who is a former army buddy, he is freed. MacHeath is later released and one's again faces the hangman's noose but a deliberately unbelievable deus ex machina royal pardon, helps him avoid the gallows and bestows upon him titles, land and riches, he avoids the gallows.

As I said, it's a good yarn. It includes good v evil stereotypes, some character trajectories, and a storyline that might run adjacent to "Oliver Swift", "Sweeney Todd" and "Jack the Ripper". And, musically, it has a couple of bangers. I did not know, before embarking on this play, that that musical nugget of golf Mack The Knife, sung by every crooner from Bobby Darrin, to Sinatra, to Buble and beyond, came from a play/musical, much less this one. You live and you learn. 

But back to the show. I enjoyed it a lot more than I anticipated, and I will make separate comments about the versions of the show I saw. I actually think it was more enjoyable than I anticipated because Brecht didn't entirely stick to his blueprint for epic theatre. Where he believes that songs should be alienating and should disrupt the flow of the show, and should not create an emotional empathy with the characters, I felt they did those assisted the story and did build some connections with the character. He likes songs to highlight the difference between what a character says, and what they actually do and I didn't pick up on that so much.

Some of his guidelines for songs in shows were more evident. He felt musical numbers should be visually distinct, with different lighting and staging. He believed wanted singers to remain detached, for songs to explicate social meaning above personal emotion and he wanted the music itself to be harsh and dissonant to prevent the audience from being lulled into a nice melody. And in the versions I saw, these goals were successful, The music was jarring (I didn't care for that), the performers didn't display a lot of emotional connection (which felt more like directorial and acting choices that I didn't love) and the staging and look of musical numbers was quite distinct... and I liked that.

The versions I saw

One of the frustrating parts about covering Brecht's work is that it's a lot harder to find online. There are fewer film versions, fewer extant staged versions that have been recorded and the quality of those that they are is... variable. There was a National Theatre version with Rory Kinnear in the lead (which even toured Australia) that I think could well win me over much more substantially... alas, I could not find it.

The first version I saw was the 2015 production by New Line Theatre. I don't know anything about New Line Theatre and the video version on Youtube comes without many details, including the names of the performers. This version looked, as I mentioned before, like it could sit alongside "Oliver Swift", "Sweeney Todd" and "Jack the Ripper"... a very Victorian look. The band played, presumably deliberately, like an Oompah Band... lots of tuba and brass, and was (again, presumably deliberately) quite jarring in places.

Mr and Mrs Peachum were very close to the Thernardiers from "Les Miserables" in look, characterisation and performance style. The actresses playing Jenny Diver, Suky Tawdry and Polly Peachum were all quite good singers. I thought old MacHeath himself was an interesting choice... not as intimidatory as the script suggests and I think he got lost in the chaos a bit. There were a few good songs, but not a lot of standouts (possibly exactly what Brecht wanted?). It had a cohesive Victorian look and feel and  would no doubt appeal to fans of Gilbert and Sullivan, light opera and early musical theatre.

The second version I saw was spectacularly badly (and I'm assuming) illegally recorded. It seems to have been filmed from a phone with frequent weird and unclear zooms, and scans of black space at the person's feet etc. However the version it is filming, the 2006 Broadway revival, looks like it might have been amazing. With Alan Cumming in the lead and with Cyndi Lauper, Ana Gasteyer and Jim Dale on board, this version has a very different feel... quite punk and anarchistic There's a little bit of "Cabaret" thrown into the feel and a whole lot of subversiveness. 

Cumming is deliciously menacing and predatory, made even more emphatic by a harsh use of his native Scottish accent. He leans heavily into a more aggressive sexuality and is more openly sexually ambiguous, particularly with police chief Tiger Brown, opening up narrative possibilities. I didn't watch out the entire version as the gymnastics of the videographer was giving me head spins, but it did open my eyes and my mind to different presentation options.

After I had already seen all of the first of these two versions, and bits of the second, I found that there was a full cinematic version of this available to see, which I didn't initially see as it's labelled "Mack The Knife" (acknowledging that it's an adaptation and not a direct performance of the play. It was released in 1989 with Raul Julia (who'd previously played MacHeath on stage) up front and Richard Harris, Julie Waters, Bill Nighy and Roger Daltry in the mix. I hope to watch this as time permits.

My thoughts

I think the potentials of this show have won me over. While I don't love the music/songs and don't agree with making the music especially jagged and a few other Brechtian principals, I do like the storyline. And that's a whole angle in itself... if you're just this as a musical then you need to bring in that whole axis of assessment.

But I like that it is subversive. I liked the breaking of the fourth wall for spoken stage directions. I like that the lead is kind of unlikeable but at times, depending on the direction and acting choices, that you connect to him a little. I like it's flagrant sexuality. I like that the theme of capitalism and how those with power control those without is marinated throughout he whole piece. I really liked the deus ex machina ending that pokes fun at musical happy endings while still reinforcing the capricious misuse of power angle.

This is another play with an exceedingly long line of great performers who have appeared in productions of it. I'm still not particularly won over by Brecht, who I still think was a bit of self-important knob, or his guidelines for theatre, but I could very much see a version of this in Goulburn and that it would be quite popular. There really is a lot of room for a director and ensemble to put their stamp on this. And despite my misgivings, I do have to say it's a great and influential work. 

Brecht is still not my favourite playwright and I'm dreading the difficult online search for the other three plays of his I'm looking for, but this play has already moved the needle ever so slightly in my appreciation of Brecht.

Materials accessed

• "The Threepenny Opera" - script (1928). Available in several places online for free including this version from pdfcoffee.online.
• "The Threepenny Opera" - filmed play (2015). Part one of the New Line Theatre production freely available on Youtube. Part 2 also available. 
• "The Threepenny Opera" - filmed play (2006). Dodgy quality filming of the 2006 Broadway production freely available on Youtube. 
• "Mack the Knife" - film (1989). Cinematic production freely available on Youtube. 

THE ICEMAN COMETH - Eugene O'Neill

 

Every now and then a phrase or the title of a piece of creative fiction passes from the page into real life. For example, "Catch 22," Big Brother, "The Breakfast of Champions." "The Iceman Cometh" has been used and abused, adapted and adopted frequently in popular culture, including quite a bit in sport. The phrase itself is an adaptation of a biblical quotation (more about it below). So there's a reasonable chance most people have heard it, or something like it, without necessarily knowing the context. 

Like quite a few of Eugene O'Neill's plays, it's widely regarded as one of the greatest works of American Theatre... some even call it THE best. And I have to say, it's very good.

Before I dig into the play, the usual caveats apply regarding O'Neill's plays... toooo long, hard to produce in an unabbreviated form and hard to hang on to audience interest. The full version clocks in at about 5 hours (although it is almost always dramatically edited in modern performances. As the last O'Neill play on my list,  I have to admit I'll be glad to be through the mammoth reading and viewing time required by his plays.  

BUT..."The Iceman Cometh" is clever, it has a few (and not too many) central unifying themes, has a lot of characters but utilises them well, contains some wonderful monologs and, like many great works of fiction, poses uncomfortable but engaging philosophic questions.

The play

The play is set in a flop house, or doss house, above a dead end saloon, in which its residents... twelve men and three prostitutes ... relive endless days of drinking themselves to alcoholic stupor. Many, through shared back stories an exposition, tell us how they came to be there (or how others came to be here) and most share their "pipe dreams" of how they are going to turn their lives around real soon and rejoin the outside world in a significant way real soon. Maybe tomorrow.

As we join the characters, they are awaiting the arrival of Theodore "Hickey" Hickman. Hickey, the consummate salesman and story teller, tours much of the east coast of the United States on his salesman route, and always drops in Harry Hope's saloon at least twice a year. When he visits, he captivates them all with engaging tales of his travels, pipe dreams of the future and fun stories. His visits are a highlight in their despairing, repetitive lives and, as the play starts, the motley crew are now waking up to Harry's birthday and the expectation that Hickey will be there soon.

And h's there. But he's changed. No longer quite the same bon vivant he was... well, not exactly... he encourages them to give up on their self delusions (the things that have been making their current lives and routines bearable). He says that he has given up on pipe dreams, embraced living truthfully, and (most disturbingly) has given up the grog. None of this is taken well.

Over the next few hours, as he has a rest, various individuals question their own pipe dreams (and sorry for repeating that phrase but it's the one the script keeps falling back on to describe self delusions and misplaced hope). Without going too deeply into the back story of each character, there are two former combatants of borh sides of the Boer War, who have become friends; there's Harry, the widowed proprietor of the saloon and his brother-in-law Ed; there's a former lawyer, a former journo, a former editor of an anarchistic publication, and a former policeman; there's Joe, an African American former proprietor of a gambling house (and yep, he gets called the N word); there's the bartender three "ladies of the night"; and the boyfriend of one of the ladies. 

The two other characters are particularly significant to the story. Larry Slade, a former union focused anarchist who acts as a foil to Hickey and engages him in arguments frequently, and Don Parritt, the son of a syndicalist anarchist that Larry used to date. Don tries to engage the fairly curmudgeonly Larry, talking about how his mother had been turned over to the police for her anti-establishment practices and speeches, and over time we discover that it was Don himself who turned her in.  He is consumed with guilt.

In fact, it's not a great time for anyone. As they confront the realities that their pipe dreams and self-delusions have held at bay, it all gets very edgy and snappy. Several come to blows. There are even weapons drawn.

But soon enough, Hickey is back with them. And being a party, he brings presents including much booze. As they join at a meal table together, words are said, differences are exchanged... kind of like a Festivus practice from Seinfeld of the airing of grievances. But Hickey decides to have just one drink to show them he didn't stop drinking just to be a wowser, and the party continues.

The final monolog by Hickey is the climax of the play, and being that it's O'Neill, it's bloody long. Coming in at about 30 minutes, you could actually watch a full episode of Seinfeld, complete with commercials, as he delivers it.

But it's GOOD. It's really well written and I can understand why actors would be drawn to it. (And warning...there be spoilers a-coming).

Hickey weaves a story that shows the life he has lived on the road. Always the gregarious funster, he cheated on his wife (who he genuinely seems to love very much) frequently on the road. And while he never declares it to her, and can tell she knows but she loves him so much that she forgives him. She forgives his drinking, his embarrassment of her and the many ways he has let her down... always forgiven, always loved. As Hickey tells his story, Don Parish reflects on the similarities to how he let his mother down.

And Hickey also explains how he came home with an STD, for which he made up a cockamamie excuse, that she accepted to his face, and his guilt grew even more. He make the excuse that her kindness made him feel guiltier and he began to hate her for it. He couldn't live like this. He thought he could leave her, but she would live with having been deserted and unloved. He could kill himself, but that would have the same effect on her. Or he could kill her. She would die without ever having felt rejection and loss. And so he kills her. 

Struggling with a similar guilt, Don Parritt takes one of the paths Hickey mentioned but did not take, and killed himself. When police come to get Hickey, as a man, the barflies say he was mad, and didn't know what he was saying, much less doing. But this isn't simply an act of brotherhood for Hickey... they don't want to confront cold reality, and want to return to their convenient pipedreams of things that they might do tomorrow... or the next day... or the next.

My thoughts

Hickey's monologue, in my opinion, is O'Neill's best piece of writing in any of the five plays I've read and seen. Forgetting my ongoing concerns with his brevity, and lack thereof, he has always showcased great poetry, precision and power in his writing. Built slowly, O'Neill somehow makes the unthinkable and inexcusable at least understandable from a certain viewpoint. O'Neill makes that viewpoint and makes an example that none of us (hopefully) would follow but that seems to convincingly portray Hickey's point of view and motivations.

I've not seen much written about the angle I'm about to suggest, but for me the play represents a sort of purgatory, with the residents stuck in a permanently repeating limbo that never improves and in which nothing actually happens. The idea of a saloon where no-one so much as budges from their seats and tables, much less goes to bed, much less engages in the real world gave me that very strong vibe of being somewhat outside of this world but not having moved completely on to the next.

And regardless of whether that's what O'Neill intended, I really like that interpretation. They are lost souls, unable to move on until they confront their pasts an failings and prepare to break their cycles. But they wont. The last scene cements that they prefer their self-delusions to learning and moving on, and these factors give emphasis to the themes of hope v hopelessness, delusion v reality and living v existing.

And it's worth returning to the appropriateness of the title. What started as an ongoing joke Hickey would tell during his visits, along the lines that while he is away, the iceman (exactly as it states, the guy who delivers ice) takes advantage of his absence and fools around with his wife. And of course she is not fooling around on him, the exact opposite is true. But the iceman does come, where ice is the coldness of death that comes for his wife. 

The phrase "the iceman cometh" is a derivation of the biblical passage Matthew 25:6: "And at midnight there was a cry made, Behold, the bridegroom cometh; go ye out to meet him." The meaning of this parable is the importance of readiness and watchfulness as the timing of Christ's return is unknown. While that's not a direct analogic element to this play, it's a chilling additional emphasis that this all ends whether we are ready or not, and a component of the existential, nihilistic tone of the play. 

The elephant in the room again is length. Done more quickly, I believe this could be an even punchier play with greater resonance and impact, but I've made this point enough times I guess and am starting to flog a dead horse.

But even with the excessive length, it is a play with great bones and meat to it. On the plus side of length, each of the "residents" of Harry's saloon have a chance to give us at least a glimpse into their lives, some more than others. There are a variety of viewpoints and life experiences and cutting the dialog and exposition any further could diminish the point.

The version I saw

As with so many plays, the performance and production of a play can make or break our experience of it. I did start out watching a 1960 Sidney Lumet production of it but didn't continue. While it had Jason Robards as Hickey and a young Robert Redford as Don Parritt, it was too dour for me and a punish to continue with.

My second attempt fared much better. The 1972 Production included a very young Jeff Bridges as Parritt, Moses Gunn as Joe, Frederic March as Harry, Robert Ryan as Larry and Lee Marvin as Hickey.

Robert Ryan is one of the great under-rated actors of the fifties and sixties and he is a brilliant, grounded foil to Marvin's gregarious Hickey. And even though I was already a Lee Marvin fan, I think this is his greatest performance. He plays Hickey a bit like Robert Preston's Harold Hill in "The Music Man"... big, brassy  and enthusiastic and always on the sell. 

It's not at all surprising when you see this version of Hickey that the barflies are so excited in anticipation of his semi-regular visits. And his performance of the final monologue, in my humble opinion, is truly Oscar worthy, and the sort of thing actors wanting to show their dramatic chops would jump at. Flicking between flippant and light, to dramatic and angry Marvin draws the audience in, and even though you begin to guess where he's going, you want him to be absolutely certain.

This version gave a very strong purgatory vibe as the resident's at Harry's remained, for the most part, slumped over their tables into the night, and on through the next day, ad infinitum. The dreariness made it difficult to sit through initially until the story eventually begins to unfold. I should add also, this movie version of the play is meant to run for 4 hours (a substantial editing of the original) however the version I saw on Tubi was chopped down to 3 hours... still a bit on the long side I felt, but I should count my blessings.

Final thoughts on this play and on Eugene O'Neill.

Starting with this play, absolutely it could work in Goulburn in the here and now. In fact I'd really like to see many of the great confrontations and monologues performed locally, however as with all of the O'Neill plays I've read and watched (except for Emperor Jones, which has its own issues), it would need considerable shortening to hold most audiences.

As to O'Neill, held up by many as one of the greatest English language playwrights of the 20th century, does he live up to it? Geez, how do you measure that. many experts say an unequivocal yes.  But I equivocate. Maybe his plays were so long because it was a different time where such longer plays were expected or at least enjoyed. Or maybe it's my personal limitations, possibly some level of ADHD and other personal failings. 

The guy could write! His dialog, particularly in shared and dramatic scenes, is punchy, and engaging and beautifully written. He has won more Pulitzer Prizes for Drama than any other person and a stack of other awards. I don't seek to detract from that, but in general, in thei complete state, they are too long for me.

Having said that, I quite liked most of them. I thought "The Iceman Cometh" is exceptional, the "Long Day's Journey into Night" is a fantastic and influential (if repetitive) piece of theatre realism, and I have been inspired by "Mourning becomes Electra" to have a swing at writing my own adaptation of Aeschylus' "The Oresteia."

So while this session of studying O'Neill has at times felt like excessive homework and sometimes required persistence over enjoyment, I agree that he is one of the greats, that I learned quite a bit and I am glad to now have an experiential appreciation of his work.

Materials accessed:

• "The Iceman Cometh" - script (1946). - available in numerous places online for free. Here it is at Project Gutenberg Australia.
• "The Iceman Cometh" - movie (1960). Viewable for free on Youtube.
• "The Iceman Cometh" - movie (1973). Three hour version viewable for free on Tubi (but you need to create an account. Four hour version available on Youtube.

LONG DAY'S JOURNEY INTO NIGHT - Eugene O'Neill

 

Eugene O'Neill is the only playwright to win a fourth Pulitzer Prize for Drama four times, and this is the play that won the fourth time, as well as the Tony Award for Best Play. It's also regarded by many critics as his greatest work, and one of the greatest American plays of the 20th century.

And it's quite good. On a personal level I very much appreciated that, coming in under 3 hours, it's much shorter than the last two plays of his that I watched.

I don't know that I'd call it one of the greatest American plays of the 20th century but as I'm becoming increasingly aware, individual mileage can vary greatly. And I have to factor in my reactions are specifically to the 1962 movie I watched. But the fact that it won both the Tony and the Pulitzer attests to a significant amount of critical appreciation .

A bit of background... O'Neill wrote this play in 1939 and continued to revise it until 1941. Because of its particularly auto-biographical self-revelatory, he didn't want it ever to be performed and didn't even want it published however he eventually supplied it to publishers in 1945 conditionally that it could not be published until 25 years after his death. 

O'Neill died eight years later (1953) and shortly after his death his wife demanded that his publishers rescind those instructions and publish the play, which against their wishes they did. From first completing the play until publication represents a gap of 17 years, so it was a long play's journey into publication.

The journey

Another O'Neill play with a poetic title, the Long Day in question is the setting for the play. The whole thing happens over one day as a family of two sons along with their mother and father gather at a holiday home in Connecticut.

The premise is that, gathered together, the four are forced to confront their flaws, their unresolved interpersonal issues

For mine, the greatest strength of the play is the poetry of the language used by O'Neill, especially in the longish reflections and expositions. There are so many beautifully worded lines, and also some clever witty ones. One of my favourite lines from Edmund's father to him after being accused of being cheap and offering to send him to a cut-price sanatorium to treat his tuberculosis/consumption.

"You can go to any place you choose, never mind what it costs. Any place... I can afford. Any place... within reason."

Another thing that comes through strongly is the awkwardness of some usually-avoided painful and even devastating conversations. The play represents 24 hours of soul-searching and soul-bearing, touching on a number of taboos and family secrets and confessions, including drug use, failed career options, internal family blames and hostility and mental health (not specifically stated but seemingly intertwined with Mary's addiction). And I also quite liked the way O'Neill directed traffic, creating moments for characters in different combinations to have conversations specific to each relationship.

Aside from the length (again, better than some of O'Neill's marathons but still quite hefty) my biggest misgiving is the repetition of the number of times a character will express their extreme anger to another, then sort it out and apologise, only to then repeat the cycle again. It happens a lot. I think the intent is to show that families are repetitious and go through the same actions, and same conversations over and over again. And that's true. I just felt O'Neill continued beyond the point of having established that point.

There are some profound statements and engaging exchanges...Eugene's late night discussion with his father helps him understand his dad a lot better. My favourite conversations is the late night conversation between the brothers... a little less recrimination than some of the other scene couples and quite a bit of real connection and genuine sharing between to brothers who happened to to be best friends who "love each others guts," although even that features some mean mood swings.

Clearly one of the most praised playwrights of the 20th century needs no advice that I can offer, but if I was offering advice, this would have felt far stronger to me if (a) a lot of the dramatic moments were repeated with little addition to the play and (b) if it didn't lean so close to melodrama with the rapid emotional swings.

The versions I saw

I watched the 1962 film starring Katherine Hepburn, Ralph Richardson, Jason Robards and Dean Stockwell. Obviously acting styles and direction have changed over the years, but even allowing for that I found this enjoyable... yet somewhat overacted. And not by the actors you'd possibly suspect.

I did like the camera work, sets and lighting a lot... closeups are used particularly well. 

Ralph Richardson delivered a powerful version of James but I thought he added just a little too much sauce, especially in the most dramatic moments. Even allowing for the fact his character is meant to be an actor of modest ability with a love for Shakespeare, I thought his delivery at times was overly melodramatic and attemptedly Shakespearean beyond what was required.

Katherine Hepburn covers a wide range of emotions but the switch up between deliriously happy, to deeply sad or angry is whiplash fast and you could do yourself an injury trying to keep up. As with Ralph Richardson's performance, I'm sure she and the director interpreted the script that way and no doubt thought it might be an Oscar-winning performance (and it did earn her a nomination) but I felt she was cranked up to 11 to a distracting degree.

Jason Robards isn't someone who has ever struck me as having great range but I thought he was quite good in this and spot on for the character (although as with the others the mercurial swings take some absorbing), but for me the highlight was a very young Dean Stockwell. I probably first encountered him in "Quantum Leap" and later saw him in other works, but in a cast with far greater experience then he, I thought he stood out with a nuanced, emotional and touching portrayal.

Misgivings aside, this film is well worth a watch. The final scene is an exceptionally good piece of cinematography, all gathered in a room and realising they may have made no progress and be stuck exactly where they started, extreme closeups then pulled back away to indicate the discussions and arguments continue on.

The other version I saw I liked a lot more. It was the pro-shot video of the Apollo Theatre production of 2012 with Laurie Metcalf (from Roseanne and a whole lot of other things) and Poirot's David Suchet. The acting is uniformly stronger... less jerky emotional switches (even if the text remains the same) and the relationships between the characters come off more realistic. It felt, to coin the cliche, more real and more powerful as a result.

Final words

It's a good play, and deserves to be understood in context of how novel a narrative it was for its time, and how closely it reflected the life experience of its playwright.

I don't know if the lengthy gap (16 years) between this work and O'Neill's last published work "A Touch of the Poet," added to the prestige and nostalgia and fondness for the gifted playwright. More likely the critics and audiences of the time, and many since, just hold to a slightly different evaluation than me.  

This could certainly be performed locally... in fact I could definitely seeing local performers wanting to do it and local audiences wanting to see it. My only real criticisms relate to length, repetition and the potential of overacting the quick emotional swings. I'm probably splitting hairs.

Well done, Mr O'Neill. Nicely written.

Materials Accessed:

• "Long Day's Journey into Night" - script (1939). There are several places you can access a free copy online. Here's one from the Internet Archive.
• "Long Day's Journey into Night" - movie (1962). Available to view for free on Youtube.
• "Long Day's Journey into Night" - pro-shot video (2012). Available for streaming by subscription on Digital Theatre.
• "Long Day's Journey into Night" - filmed play (2017). Available to view for free on Youtube.

MOURNING BECOMES ELECTRA - Eugene O'Neill

 

Firstly... damn you, Eugene O'Neill and your mammoth plays.

The previous one I looked at, "Strange Interludes", when performed unabridged rang for 5-6 hours.

And this play, "Mourning becomes Electra", is actually THREE plays in one... a trilogy or play cycle intended to be performed in one setting.

And despite it's cursed length, I actually liked it. 

In some small way, the length of this play isn't Mr O'Neill's fault. The "Mourning becomes Electra" trilogy is based on "The Oresteia" by Aeschylus, a play trilogy .... And I think it help understand the play better when you look at the work that inspired it.

The Oresteia

A little less than 500 BC, plays were sometimes presented as trilogies... three related stories telling one overall story. These were pretty common, but only one survives to this day, "The Oresteia" by Aeschylus (the Oedipus cycle doesn't count as those three plays were written over a longer period.

The three plays that make up "The Oresteia" are "Agamemnon", "The Libation Bearers" and "The Eumenides." Broadly speaking, the stories depicted across the three plays runs parallel to Homer's "The Odyssey" which was composed something like 300 years earlier, give or take a century, and which contains a number of the same characters.

In "Agamemnon", King Agamemnon of Mycenae has returned home after leading the Greek forces during the ten year long Trojan War. He arrives home straight after the war whereas Odysseus takes a further 10 years to get home (guys not wanting to ask directions, am I right). And here we have a contrast... Penelope, wife of Odysseus, waited the ten years of the war, and a further ten years, remaining true to Odysseus. Agamemnon's wife Clytemnestra, on the other hand, shacked up with one of Agamemnon's mortal enemies (he had a few... this one was called Aegisthus) in his absence. However Agamemnon had taken a concubine of his own (spoils of war), Cassandra... the legendary prophetess and daughter of Trojan King Priam. Cassandra could see the future but was cursed to have no-one ever believe her prophecies.

For several reasons (she didn't want to give up on her new relationship, she wanted to keep control of Mycenae from Agamemnon, she was angry about his bringing home a concubine and, most importantly, she did not forgive Agamemnon for sacrificing his own daughter Iphigenia before the God's would let him and his troops sail to Troy. So, following Aegisthus' urging, she kills Agamemnon and Cassandra (who predicted the whole mess but was disbelieved... again). Worried for her young brother Orestes due to his male lineage to the thrown, Agamemnon's daughter Electra helps Orestes make his escape.

In "The Libation Bearers", Orestes returns, now a grown man. Orestes meets up with Electra at their father's grave. Orestes advises that Apollo had commanded him to avenge his father's death and there, at the graveside, the two (accompanied by the chorus), determine they will murder Clytemnestra to avenge Agamemnon's. Orestes presents himself at the place and, unrecognised by his mother, he tells her that Orestes has died. Clytemnestra calls for Aegisthus to join her so she could pass on the news, and when he arrives Orestes kills him and then his mother.

In "The Eumenidies,"  Orestes is pursued by the Furies, a trio of goddesses who were the instruments of justice for all the Gods. After close shaves, and thanks to the assistance of Apollo, Orestes escape them until the ghost of Clytemnestra wakes the sleeping Furies at one point to urge them to avenge her. It's complex... he killed his mum but he avenged his dad. He broke with common law but followed Apollo's dictates.

To decide the mess, Goddess Athena sets up the first ever courtroom trial. The twelve person jury is split six all and Athena casts her deciding vote to let Orestes off. The Furies are... furious... and Athena calms them be renaming them the Eumenidies, or gracious ones, and AThena further rules that justice must be decided in court rather than meted out personally.

Back to "Mourning becomes Electra"

So all of that lengthy backstory (apologies) is useful to see in which ways O'Neill's modern take differs, and why. And he quit deliberately left no doubt that his play shares substantial links with "The Oresteia" by naming the play as he did, given that there is no Electra in his play.

Just a quick bit on Electra, she is a major cultural character. Three separate Greek playwrights... Aeschylus (458 BC), Sophocles (418 BC) and Euripides (410 BC) wrote plays about her, so too in his way has Eugene O'Neill and others, and her story gave birth to the now somewhat dated term, the Electra Complex. Which we'll get back to.

Just as in the Oresteia, the story picks up with a husband/father returning home from war. O'Neill chose the American Civil War for his adaptation (and I feel adaptation is probably incorrect as it is in many ways a new story and a new take, but he drew the lines of similarity so I'll run with it.)  The Civil war, especially at the time of writing, was a lot fresher and more culturally connected to contemporary audiences and American audiences at the time of writing and production, but still sufficiently in the rear view mirror to allow for cultural and attitudinal changes in the time since.

While this play is not a note for note replication of the Oresteia, there are quite deliberate similarities. Many of the characters are very closely based on characters from Aeschylus' play. Electra becomes Lavinia, Agamemnon becomes General Ezra Mannon, Clytemnestra becomes Christine, Or4stes becomes Orin, Aegisthus becomes Adam Brant and some other smaller characters are retained other different names. 

But O'Neill didn't create this adaptation as an opportunity to reflect his memory or understanding of the original, or to show how he can assiduously copy someone else work. He uses the original as shorthand so that viewers/readers will notice the differences.

Many of the themes remain. Both plays examine justice versus retribution. They both consider cycles of violence and generational violence. Family duty versus moral obligations remains. Gender dynamics and power exist in both. And blame. Both are BIG TIME studies of blaming others, or outside concepts, instead of accepting blame from within.

But there are differences. Obviously references to, or the existence of the Gods and mystical powers isn't present in "Mourning becomes Electra". The Greek Chorus mostly disappears aside from a few expositionary characters. And with the disappearance of the Gods, so too disappears the concept of the idea that the family is cursed. Well, sort of. There are generational actions that filter down and get repeated, but it's nowhere near as fatalistic. 

This play challenges the concept in plays of earlier generations that people are puppets to fate, or the Gods, or the powers that be. In much the same way that psychiatry questioned the religious belief in externalised evil and demons that guided our actions, this play makes quite a different point to "The Oresteias" in terms of owning your actions.

And because I haven't studied "The Oresteias" and am relying in my memory/knowledge of Greek myth, I can't remember to what degree blame was shifted home so heavily upon Lavinia/Electra (although with so many plays about the latter, that's a definite maybe). In this play, Lavinia is written as very much a modern day conniving Lady Macbeth (or Grima Wormtongue if you're more of a Lord of the Rings fan). She not only persistently pushes Orin/Orestes to kill their mum, but then conspires and manipulates others in a range of ways.

Final thoughts

This is a lot more than I intended to write so I'll wrap it up.

It's a good play. Eugene O'Neill sure can write, and can make interesting characters. But if I can briefly address the ghost of the great playwright. Mr O'Neill...Eugene... I am not fit to hold a pencil in your shadow but IT'S TOO BLOODY LONG! As was "Strange Interlude".

I can't speak for everyone's attention span but mine is nowhere near up to this. I'll give you a brief pass son this one because it's possibly you were trying to stay true in many ways to the source piece

I decided early on that, aside from flicking through the text, I had no hope of reading this as well as watching it. So I watched the 1978 miniseries broadcast on PBS Great Performances which ran over five 48 minute episodes. Credit to them, that is a much better way to consume so a large piece although since I needed to binge it to get it done in time it was still 4 hours of, at times, stretched out and repetitive viewing. Also, stretched over 5 48 minute segments made it hard to figure where each part of the trilogy started and stopped. There are other video versions online but I didn't have the stamina to try them as well.

Roberta Maxwell, who I know nothing about, was really quite good as Lavinia, and I especially like the fact that she closely resembled the actress playing her mother (Joan Hackett). Some others I recognised... Jeffrey DeMunn (who played Paul Giamatti's a%#hole of a dad in "Billions") playing the a%#hole cuckolder Captain Adam Brant, a very young Bruce Davison and an also very young Peter Weller ("Robocop" and "Buckaroo Banzai") in the first role I've seen him in where he wasn't chewing up the scenery.

It was an enjoyable way to take in this play. Is it great? I think so. Could it be done in Goulburn today? Well yes, but at 4-5 hours, I think this adaptation needs further adaptation (and I'm already on to it).

It's more proof that Eugene O'Neill is talented with quill in hand. Not for nothing, I love the poetry of the title... nothing becomes Electra so much as mourning. It's clever phrasing. Bu balanced against that, old Eugene was not terribly considerate of his viewing audience. The length is a matter of personal preference... you decide if the squeeze is worth the juice.

Materials accessed:

• "Mourning becomes Electra" - script (1931). Available several places online for free including this version at Coldreads.
• "Mourning become Electra" - miniseries (1978). Viewable for free on Youtube.

STRANGE INTERLUDES - Eugene O'Neill

What's the longest play or movie you've seen?

There are some ridiculously long entries in the Guinness Book of World Records, many of which are experimental and aren't aiming at keeping an audience, so let's just stick to mainstream box office movies.

The Lord of the Rings films averaged out at 3 hours and 48 minutes. A number of recent films tap out at near or just over the three hour mark.

It may come as a shock then, to the casual or occasional theatre consumer, to know that "Strange Interludes" by Eugene O'Neill, in its complete and unedited form, runs for between five and six hours. Yep... very nearly a complete day at work for many people. Take a cut lunch, maybe even a bed roll.

What I'm saying is, it's objectively long. Nine acts covering 25 years (and seeming to run for at least half of that), it is nonetheless a theatrical favourite. And despite my taking the piss due tom it's length, I liked it a lot too.

"Strange Interludes" became the first play to also be a national bestseller in print (it's length probably helped in that regard), won for O'Neill his second Pulitzer Prize for Drama (he would win a third with "Long Day's Journey into Night" in 1957) and it has been revived numerous times the world over. And, fortunately for audiences, often in a much shorter form. The Simon Stone adaptation at Sydney's Belvoir Theatre, for instance,  was cut to just two hours twenty, and that included the intermission.

It was instantly successful, critically acclaimed, significantly awarded and frequently revived. So what's it all about.

What's it all about

Nina Leeds is a thoroughly modern lady as we pick up the story shortly after the cessation of the first world war. She is in a state of mourning because her betrothed, Gordon Shaw, died in service of his country and she did not get to consummate the relationship.

Stricken with sadness and guilt, she volunteers as a nurse at a hospital for returning veterans, and offers herself sexually to some of the injured returned servicemen (but only those who fought). In a complex love quadrangle, she is surrounded by three men who in varying ways by three men:

- Charles Marsden... lifelong pal, confidante and platonic friend... or does he want more?

- Sam Evans... gosh-darned boy next door and friend of her former fiance Gordon. His motivations are of the highest order and he is willing to be patient as Nina continues to process her grief from Gordon's passing.

- Edmund Darrell... another acquaintance of Gordon's, and of Sam's. Something of a cad and a blighter at times, he pushes Nina towards the unexciting Sam whilst continuing to get a bit of Nina-loving on the side.

With the urging of both other men, Nina accepts a largely unloving betrothal to Sam and sets her mind to having a child with him who could replace Gordon... but her new mother in law confides in her that madness runs in the family and so any child she had with Sam could be similarly afflicted. Whatever will she do.

The slightly spoilerish response to that question is to mention some of the confronting plot elements of the show that had many up in arms when it was first produced... including mental health, promiscuousness, infidelity, abortion, and women with genuine agency.

What's significant about the play

The thing that makes this play standout is the frequent, ubiquitous use of soliloquys... not perhaps used theatrically a lot since the works of Shakespeare and his contemporaries, although a mainstay of soap operas some time after the original publication. The thing that makes it interesting, or novel... and even confusing... is that speakers will drift from direct speech to another character, to saying their unspoken thoughts out loud... that we can hear but others on stage cannot.

Something like... "Hello Pedro. That's odd, he didn't look up from his paper when I greeted him just now. Is he cranky with me. I'll try again. I said, Hello Pedro. Oh, this time he looked up. That's a start, but he doesn't appear happy."

It works, partly because it is novel, but probably more because it effectively highlights how the things we say don't necessarily line up with the things we mean. We see this in novels all the time, whether it's a first person narrative, or even the omnipresent narrator, but not so much in plays. And like I said, it does work in this play I found a lot of times where the distinction between what was obviously the internal monolog and the more public vocalisations was not always obvious.

I've said previously and it stands repeating... from the two O'Neill shows I've seen and read so far, I really enjoy his writing style. And I'd say this play is regarded as a masterwork because of it's unique (or at least uncommon) mix of spoken word and monologue, and it's coverage of several themes that were at least partly taboo at the time.

Themes addressed in "Strange Interlude" include grief, loss, insanity., unfaithfulness, the importance of appears., 

So, yes it's good, and yes I liked but... but... 

The problem is...

The length. This is, for my ability to engage and pay attention at least, an abominably long play. Five to six hours. Even the movie production I aw, that completely cut Scene 7 and made other slight and judicious cuts elsewhere only got the play down to three hours. And that would be ok, even 5 or 6 hours would be okay if it remained fresh throughout, but the play does circle through several topics several times over.

I really love Edmund... no I don't, I'm just using him... Hang on, I actually do. Edmund is also on a vacillators frequent flyer program... I need Nina, but I don't love her. Or I do. No I don't. But I do. Likewise Charles... we are just platonic friends, but maybe I want more... don't be silly, it's fine as it is.

So it's probably better to say it's not the length per se, it's the repetition and unresolving of resolved issues, then resolving again and so on.

Belvoir Theatre in Sydney did a version that was 2 hours on the stage with a twenty minute intermission. And there are many other instances of abridged versions. And even though I'm not a fan of tinkering with the playwright's words (go write your own play you lazy sods), I would take a stab and say that the shorter versions are more powerful for the brevity. The frequent shortening of the play speaks to a common concern about the length.

But back to why it's good

One of the things I liked the most is O'Neill's ability to make Nina a sympathetic character despite being flawed. Really flawed. I think Nina and Ibsen's Hedda Gabler may have become good friends. She is at times vindictive towards pretty much everyone in the play, including trying to hurt her son Gordon junior by revealing Sam wasn't his real dad, only for her revelation to fall flat. But she is also a very damaged woman, traumatised by the loss of he first fiance, and then by some of the actions that were to a degree trauma induced.

While the vacillating and prevaricating are a little over done (a by product of the play's length(, a cropped back version of that does an effective job of showing the guilt and internal torture of living with compromised decision making. Less, in this case might have been more.

The version I watched was a 1988 television production based on London staged version three years earlier. This film features Glenda Jackson as Nine (I have to be honest, not a huge fan... would like to see her provide a bit more light to go with her shade), Jose Ferrer as Nina's dad, and a VERY young Kenneth Branagh as a very young Gordon junior. It's not bad. But as mentioned before, even though it's 3 hours and not 6, it does go on a bit and it's a very dry and low-key production. 

My favourite performer was probably Edward Petherbridge, who I can't recall ever seeing before). He was particularly good at nuancing the switch from audible voice to monologue. Also, as a mix of someone standing on the outside looking on whilst also being a sage commentator and advisor to Nina,  his asides helped present the plot points and themes fairly clearly.

Yes, this could work in Goulburn today (s long as it's not too long) and I personally would love to go see it. Directors could have a lot of fun with the frequent monologs... including extracting a bit of occasional comedy as a character splits between the two.

Materials accessed:

"Strange Interlude." - script (1926). Available many places. This can be found many places. Here's a version from Internet Archive.

"Strange Interlude." - movie (1988). Available for free on Youtube.

EMPEROR JONES - Eugene O'Neill

I'm going to start this blog with the bit I usually finish with. Could this play be performed in Goulburn today. In it's original form? Hell no!

The elephant in the room with Emperor Jones is the racial stereotyping and racist epithets. The N word is used heavily throughout this play. The main characters speaks in a way that today would be judged as depicting a cliched stereotype and there are a bunch of references to Jones' subjects as "black [inert insult here]."

So those are the impediments to doing the play today. Which is a pity, because it's a damn good play. And no I'm not excusing the language, or even condoning it in its contemporary context.

Because I'm a Eugene O'Neill novice, I've done a bit of research on the guy. It appears that far from being a racist, he created roles for black Americans and helped to increased their visibility in productions. Perhaps the language and characterisations he used in this script are aimed at being deliberately provocative? 

Anyway, that's jumping to the end bit. Let's go back a few steps.

The script

I bloody loved reading this. O'Neill, at least in this play, wrote voluminous stage directions and scene settings... possibly not something directors or actors may have loved but for a reader, it reads like a novel. And it's a short play, so a very quick "novel".

Brutus Jones, a convicted criminal, escapes from a road gang to a small Caribbean island. Utilising bluster and his skill as a con man,  he sets himself up as Emperor of the island imposing heavy taxes on the people. early in his period as Emperor, a villager tries to shoot him but the gun misfires, and Jones uses that to construct a mythology around himself that he can't be killed by anything less than a silver bullet. So that's the set up.

The play starts two years after Jones arrived on the island, and the natives are getting restless... sick of his regal excesses and heavy taxes. In scene one, a white cockney trader tells Jones to beware the ides of now, and that the islanders are ready for revolution. Scenes two to seven are Jones running through the jungle as the drum beat keeps getting louder, and then Smithers and others return for the final scene.

The thing I most enjoyed about this play is that it could easily have been a Twilight Zone episode. Similar to Scrooge in a Christmas Carol, he is visited by visions, or at least memories, of his past that spook him considerably. His reactions, you could even say guilt and regrets, from his past haunt him along his run through the jungle and his dialog works like one long stop-start monolog, the moral of which is you can't run away from your past.

Without giving too much away in spoilers, O'Neill foreshadows the ending with the early reveal of a pistol with six bullets one of them silver. Jones' past DOES catch up with him and superstition, which he weaponised for the natives, plays a large role in his undoing. These visions and the staging of them adds a surreal, expressionist quality to what would otherwise be a straightforward story.

The play is simple, unfettered, quickly engaging and easily followed... certainly moreso than the more complex works of Ibsen and Chekhov. That's not to say that makes it better or worse... if you like it or not, that's your own subjective judgement, but I liked the unconvoluted messaging.

Context is also important, and I know very little about the circumstances in which O'Neill wrote this, or about world politics back in 1920, apparently there is some linkage to the United States occupation of Haiti. But even without knowing that, it's themes clearly include commentary of imperialism, including cultural and economic imperialism, even if that's from the unusual angle of a minority perpetrator.

This was not O'Neill's first play (that was Beyond the Horizon for which he won the Pulitzer Prize for Drama) but it WAS his first big box-office hit and the story telling is so novel and interesting I'm not surprised.

Seeing it

There are very few version of this show available to see, and obviously the language has played a big part of that. There HAVE been theatrical revivals and even a few movie or video performances (including an Australian one) but they are harder to get your hands on than hen's teeth.

The movie version from 1933 is easily accessible on Youtube, and stars the enigmatic Paul Robeson (of Show Boat fame... and a very interesting individual if you have the time to read up on him). This version of the film details all of the back story that the play only alludes to in retrospect, so you're 40 minutes into the film before you get to the point the play starts at. O'Neill himself approved this adaptation and congratulated them on creating a three act story from a one act script. It shows, in a short time frame, Jones's deterioration and using pretty impressive editing techniques for its time, cleverly shows his ghostly delusions. 

This movie version does a pretty good job of telling the story but it is handy to know more than half of it is additional content created to pad the film out. Interestingly enough, the ebook version I bought on Amazon completely left out the entire last scene which is the climax of the whole play. It's handy to remember that books (and that includes scripts) that are out of their copyright protection can be reprinted by anyone and you don't always get the real deal. Fortunately I found a free copy online that only had a few pages extra, but those pages made a big differences.

Could it be performed it Goulburn - Part II

It's pretty unlikely it could be performed in it's original state. Frequent use of the N word and other derogatory descriptions preceded by the word Black would make it very hard to get off the ground as a production, or to perform without protest or sell tickets to. Maybe some productions get around this by a very specific warning about the content and context, but even then... it's a tough sell.

You could potentially modify the language... but it would need so much modification that at some point it may cease to be the original work. 

Those are choices for a production team. But it's themes - imperialism, power, guilt, racial identity, mistreatment of indigenous people and the poor - are still very much worth accessing and retelling. And the story telling techniques and surreality would still be very engaging and attractive. Would they still prove popular enough with local audiences? I'm certain they would. And whether it's ever performed in Goulburn or not, I'm very keen to encounter more of the works of Eugene O'Neill.

Materials accessed:

• "Emperor Jones" - (script) 1920. Available freely in many places - here's a link to it at the Public Library UK.
• "Emperor Jones" - (movie) 1933. Freely available at Youtube at this link. 

THE CHERRY ORCHARD - Anton Chekhov

When I studied history at school, we were taught a quote from Lord Macaulay... "Reform that ye may preserve." It was aimed at those in power preparing to share that power and privilege with the middle and lower classes because otherwise they were coming through and would take it anyway.

Bob Dylan said it slightly differently... "The times, they are a changin'."

That's a large part of The Cherry Orchard. As with all Chekhov works, there are a number of themes at play but I felt this one had a more identifiable and coherent central theme than "The Seagull," "Uncle Vanya" and "Three Sisters". 

The Story

Madame Lyubov Ranyevskaya, a popular member of the aristocracy, returns to her old prestigious home, famed for it's glorious Cherry Orchard,  after a time in Paris and it appears that both she and her property have fallen on hard times. With her are her biological daughter Anya (who travelled with her) and adopted daughter Varya who has stayed behind to manage the estate. Lyubov's brother Gayev also resides at the family property. 

In addition to these family members, Lopahkin, a recently established member of the middle class whose dad had been a peasant and his grandfather a serf. While mostly a charming man, he wants to make the point that he has arrived and the old regime are on the way out. There's also Boris, a bit of a wasted caricature of a faded aristocrat,  Trofimov (my favourite) a rising leftie advocating for reform, maid Dunyasha, manservants Firs (quite old) and Yasha (quite young), as well as Yepikhodov, Charlotta and others.

For Lyubov. returning to the estate is emotionally challenging... it's the place where her son died and it's tough just seeing how much it has deteriorated. Lopahkin has a solution. Sell the property (which is mortgaged for more than Lyubov can realistically pay). Let him take the property and take over. But (and he is very deliberate about this) he will destroy the Cherry Orchard.

There are a lot of characters in this play (not that numbers are a problem... see also Vox Populi) but some of them seem redundant to the story, so I'll drill down to just a few and try to avoid too many spoilers. Lopahkin represents the new middle class wave coming through. Lyubov represents the fading aristocratic regime, and Trofimov represents the under class fighting to be understood and represented.

While much of the thematic content is rehashed form his previous works, I think Chekhov does a far better job of delineating the central thrust of this story and does so in a more engaging way. No longer just a wistful reverie of how the idle wealthy suffer with their lack of purpose, more than in his other works this play emotionally connects us to Lyubov and her sense of loss for the changes to her world, for the touchstone to her past and memories to move into someone else's hands, and more broadly the changes the world is experiencing. She seems to make a conscious choice to live in denial about the changing world, to not prepare for the changes, and to seem shocked when the inevitable finally arrives. 

While the lack of financial and managerial acumen by Lyubov and her brother Gayev hasn't helped the situation, it shows that Lopahkin's possession of these traits has considerably helped his attempt to wrest control of the property away from the family. And even though he attempts to appear somewhat helpful in trying to get them to buy into his ideas, his genuine agenda and motivation to avenge his lowly origins and seize control are revealed as he essentially betrays the family financially. The aristocratic regime having to move aside for another regime in the form of the middle class, and his axing of the trees is a meaningful analogy for taking an axe to the structure of society.

And all the time, Trofimov is the idealist and advocate for the working class and the new world coming through. Chekhov gives him plenty of space to articulate the alternatives and possibilities waiting to be ushered in at the dawn of the 20th century.

My thoughts

I think that maybe... MAYBE... I'm starting to figure out what Chekhov was trying to do that I have been struggling to grasp until now.

Of course being a Chekhov play, there are lots of extraneous folk with half-mentioned motivations and sub-plots that are never fully fleshed out - but I'm beginning to think that's what he was shooting for. I think he wanted ALL characters to be three dimensional, to have layers and back stories and not just be NPCs that offer plot device value. And that's very consistent to theatre realism of which he was an advocate and devotee.

That's kind of ironic since the thrust of the Chekhov's Gun theory is that all elements presented in a story or play should be included purposefully, with no red herrings or wasted intricacy. And yes, there is an actual gun in this play... of course... although it plays almost no role in the story.

Having said that, I'm not sure the depth of unrealised character details in some of his other works aided those works, nor for that matter the multiple competing but unelevating themes. But in THIS work, the characters, the characterisations, and the stripping back of dead end plots and themes serve a much more united, cohesive and as a result powerful story.

The character choices and descriptions in "The Cherry Orchard" are quite individual and fresh. The combination of comic and tragic elements and overall unity of message made this, from my subjective view, his greatest work (of the four I've encountered). It has been referred to by many as one of the masterpieces of theatre... I think maybe I could buy into that too but I'm not quite there yet and would need to study it, or review it, or just see it a few more times to be sure.

I still had some notes. I'd like to have understood better the significance of the two daughters, and why one was biological and one adopted, and why those choices were made. Gayev is intriguing and funny and could have done with more focus, and to a lesser degree, same with Yephikodov, Yasha and Firs. In a mini series, their roles might make more sense but being a play, I felt several could be cut completely with no loss to the story. I'd especially cut Charlotta and Boris who added very little to the piece. I know the latter is meant to add to the aristocratic angle but he didn't add much for me.

But that's the nit-picking done. This is a far easier play to get your head around than the three other Chekhov plays I have reviewed. For a start, it's easier to summarise in a logline. The use of imagery in the title is quite well linked to the story... the simplicity of the family's cherry orchard, now fallen on bad times and not quite so breath-taking as it was, and with it's produce, cherries, no longer in demand... emphasising both times gone by and coming changes. And the incorporation of comedy and farce added a better balance of light and shade, barely present in the other three works of his I've mentioned, drawing focus to the more dramatic elements and themes as they come and making for a more enjoyable theatrical experience over all.

The versions I've seen

I attempted to watch two versions of this to supplement the readings.

The first was the 1999 film with Charlotte Rampling in the lead role, with Michael Gough, a very young Gerard Butler, Melanie Lynskey and Xander Berkley in other roles. I've sat through some hard to watch films in my time, particularly since watching some of the movie adaptations of the great plays, but as God is my witness i just couldn't finish this. Directed and adapted by Michael Cacoyannis, it is a far better alternative to valerian root or melatonin if you need to fall asleep quickly. I had three goes at this but couldn't hang in there.

The second attempt was a National Theatre pro-shot from 2011. I found this much more digestible and enjoyable. Starring Zoe Wannamaker is Lyubov and a stack of other British theatre regulars (including Mark Bonnar - you may have seen him in Shetlands - as Trofimov), this version was adapted by Australia's own Andrew Upton (Cate Blanchett's other half) and the changes to the script are more a case of clever pruning and re-centering. I found it very enjoyable, if a little long (3 hours 5 mins).

Some of the intrusions by the less significant characters got in the way, and I thought some of Lyubov's running around like a headless chook while saying "look at me, I'm running around" were distracting. I did however very much like the last scene, featuring Firs, which I think symbolically marked the passing of the old ways.

My thoughts

I liked it. I think it's a bit like you have to get into Shakespearian headspace to watch and consider Shakespearian plays, I found I had to get into a Chekhovian space, informed by having experienced some of his other works.

There was less of the pressing ennui of wasted lives, the inertia about wanting to do something but not doing it, no sub-plots of cheating and only a little bit of unrequited love. I feel that, in not trying to do so much in "The Cherry Orchard" he made it stronger. And better. 

This is easily my favourite of the four Chekhov plays I've covered (followed by "The Seagull", "Uncle Vanya" and "Three Sisters") and I could definitely see it being produced locally. For it to succeed, I think it would help if it was even further adapted, Andrew Upton style, to debride some of the dead and damaged tissue or to find ways to shift focus to the key contributing elements. And I'm not a fan of fiddling with the playwright's words however translated adaptations offer some possibilities.

But overall, I can see why the woks of Chekhov are highly regarded as changing the realistic content of plays. With 120ish years of hindsight and my own personal biases there were some that I approached differently to Anton, but I can clearly see the influence he had on modern theatre and how his work was necessary for those that followed to follow.

But I have to be honest and say I found several of his plays to be hard work, hard to engage with and not especially moving or enjoyable. Again, Sometimes it comes down to seeing the right performance to change your mind and, for the ones I wasn't especially fond of,  I look forward to that happening.

Materials accessed:

• "The Cherry Orchard" - script. many free copies online, here's one at the Oxford Theatre Guild.
• "The Cherry Orchard" - movie (1999). Free on Youtube.
• "National Theatre Live: The Cherry Orchard" - pro-shot film (2011). Available  on subscription to National Theatre at Home.

THREE SISTERS - Anton Chekhov

 

As my journey through some of the Great Plays of all time continues, I am becoming increasingly aware of the role of taste. And obviously it’s not something restricted to the theatre. For everyone sitting down for a night of watching the Godfather, someone else is watching Happy Gilmore. For everyone looking forward to a night on the cans, someone else is anticipating a quiet night with a pinot noir. And none of that is to imply an innate sense of worthiness to these choices. Your favourite ice cream might be chocolate, or strawberry… or licorice. Dealers choice.

And none of that paragraph relates specifically to “Three Sisters” except as a way of flagging that to date Chekhov’s work has not grabbed me as I hoped it would. And so, as a disclaimer, now that I have a slightly better experiential catalog of Chekhov’s plays behind me and offering the same apologies for my own personal tastes and possible insufficiencies… I’m still not there with Chekhov yet.

There’s a TV sitcom I’m very fond of, “Seinfeld”, which has been described, even by its own creators as “the show about nothing.” The show was very much situational and, especially in earlier episodes, not super big on dramatic plot points. But very funny nonetheless.

It’s a criticism that some (like I) might level at some Chekhov plays… and again, no doubt that statement is in some way a reflection of my tastes and capacities). I really did enjoy some of the philosophical musings expressed in some very clever pieces of dialog. But (and this may be a product of my available time), but finishing this play was a bit of a punish I find it hard to complete and I wasn’t overly motivated to doing so. Also the version I saw was pretty bloody flat despite some pretty handy actors.

But I don’t want to be guilty of shit-canning this play just because I didn’t enjoy it all that much. I know that all of Chekhov’s works are revered, widely enjoyed and performed with impressive regularity to this day and so, even though very few people will read this blog, I feel a duty to treat this play with the respect time and overwhelming popularity have earned it. So here goes.

What it’s about

Would it shock you to know that the story is about three sisters? Thought not. And there’s a brother two, suffering from the same referencing marginalisation experienced by Dumas fourth musketeer, D’Artagnan. There are also a bunch of soldiers and other men and women in key roles, and a few extras for good measure.

Written and set as the 18th century was giving way to the 19th, the play is set against the backdrop of changes that are coming. Sisters Irina (youngest), Masha (ironically the Jan Brady of the bunch) and Olga (the eldest), along with brother Andrei used to live in Moscow. They have been living a tree change for the last 11 years but long to return.

Olga is a spinster, headmistress and matriarch/acting mother figure of the brood. Masha, the middle child, is married to latin-teaching Kulgiyn but is afflicted with the seven year itch (literally) and falls for and has an affair with Lt Colonel Vershinin (and she’s not the only one cheating around). Youngest sister Irina isn’t in love with anyone but when she realises they aren’t going back to Moscow, agrees to marry Baron Tuzenbach but in a twist… nope I’ll let you discover what happens there.

And brother Andrei, adored by his sisters, is a good, decent and worthy chap, bogged down by indecision. He marries the seemingly shy and quiet Natasha (who his sisters don’t like) but boy does she show here true colours as the story continues.

There’s also Solyony (the nutcase), old Dr Chebutykin, soldier and amateur photographer Fedotik, another soldier called Rode, Anfisa the aged house maid (treated well by the girls but not so much by Natasha) and Ferepont, another aged character, who chimes in with random comments.

And in reading that, I have to admit I LIKE those bones. That’s a well constructed cast of characters, with lots of opportunity for story telling. But I’ll come back to that.

The Themes

I guess we all relive past mistakes, recurring flaws and favoured highlights a bit. That’s definitely true for Chekhov. Many of the same themes and plot ideas show up again that are present in “The Seagull” and “Uncle Vanya.” As a fan of the whole Rocky franchise (well not Rocky V… that one was poo) I can appreciate the subtle and even obvious reuse of story ideas, but I think when you didn’t love it the first time around, the impact of repetition hits differently.

“Three Sisters” (and the other Chehov’s I’ve read and witness) are a bit uneventful and I appreciate that’s the appeal for some. But I felt that the ongoing introspection and navel gazing, used to the degree it is, takes a toll. I appreciate contemplation as much as the next guy. Maybe moreso. But I think the existential ennui has been covered. Asked and answered, your honour. Move along.

The tone is also stuck in some mid-tone plateau. Neither dramatic, nor funny, nor sad, nor aggravating, nor evocative. I have also seen and enjoyed lots of tragic and sad plays, often operating with a degree of light and shade, but I felt this didn’t grab my heart and break it so much as suffocate it like a heavy cloud of pervasive pessimism. Again, nothing wrong with bringing the darker and more  complex emotions… all a matter of taste. And like a cake, I see the flour, sugar and eggs, I possibly didn’t go for the specific mix.

Another of Chekhov’s go-tos, unrequited love, takes a central role again, paired with unfaithfulness in marriage and relationships. Both come up so often in Chekhov plays that I kind of feeling like taking the good playwright aside and saying “Anton… Tony… mate. If I could have a quick word. How’s things at home?” But anyway, here they are again. And not just once. And a gun, of course, with a significant plot point of its own (albeit offstage)

Other recurring themes… the monotony and lack of fulfillment of middle class provincial life is front and centre again. Also the unbearable heaviness of being, what have I done with my life and what is there left I could do, the loss of prestige.

On the stage (or at least on screen)

The only copy I could find of this is from that wonderful storehouse of the great plays “BBC Play of The Month” - a “show” that ran from 1965 to 1983 (literally the year I was born until the year I completed Year 12… but it’s not about me!). This series covered 121 plays in full, including MANY of the greatest plays of all time, and one of those was “Three Sisters”.

This version featured a few actors I’d seen before… a very young Anthony Hopkins, Joss Ackland (the Diplomatic Immunity guy from “Lethal Weapon”), Michele Dotrice (the wife from “Some Mothers do Ave em”) and Janet Suzman. 

The BBC has kicked many goals in this space but this play fell very flat and maybe that has biased my enjoyment? I really had to push myself over several sittings to finish this. And now it sounds like I’m calling this performance bad. I just don’t think it delivered particularly well at some key moments and on some key lines. But it’s available on Youtube, so judge for yourself. 

As with a few plays/movies I’ve seen for this project (particularly Ibsen’s “Hedda Gabler”) early impressions changed dramatically thanks to one sensational performance. It could very be that a combination of a strong version of this and my growing familiarity with the script and characters will turn my opinion around considerable.

Last bits

If I saw this as my first Chekhov, and not my third, I may have enjoyed it more. The repetitiveness of central themes didn’t give me the “well that’s new” hit that I was hoping for.

I liked many bits of dialogs, particularly some relating to how we don’t get to be happy now, that’s for future generations, although some times I wanted to yell out “For the love of God, the lower classes are REALLY struggling around you and mostly your lives aren’t too bad. Please, SOMEONE, appreciate that.”

I got frustrated by the inertia and self-imposed lack of agency of the characters, a lack of willingness to change their situations, but I get that that was the very thing Chekhov was trying to show. I think.

The play wraps up clearly. The time comes for closing books and long last looks must end (To Sergei, with Love?) but I thought the end message, though a consistent and succinct rendering of a key theme, was a bit morose and limited. What’s there to live for? Nothing. It’s also a bit like the end of “Uncle Vanya” although in that Sonya imbued it with a bit of nobility. Here, I felt Albert Camus and Jean-Paul Sartre would have exchanged knowing smiles and added “HE gets it.”

I think I’m being a bit harsh, but I really didn’t love it. Again, I think my appreciation of this will grow with further encounters with the play. But I’m not quite there yet.

Materials accessed:

• “Three Sisters” - script. (1900). Accessible many places for free, here’s one from Amazon Web Sevices.
• “Three Sisters” - video (1970). BBC Play of the Month available on Youtube.