Revu Uncle Vanya
“Uncle Vanya”
No small-talk tonight - I have too much to say. Fennec Fox Productions' and director Joshua Robey's overwhelming production of Uncle Vanya is the greatest theatrical triumph of the term so far, and easily one of the strongest pieces of Student Theatre I have ever seen.
Anton Chekhov's classic, here in a contemporary adaptation by Robert Icke, follows eight characters on a rural estate run by the work-wearied "Uncle Johnny" (Ezana Betru) and his youthful niece Sonya (Lucía Mayorga). He must share his house with his ex-brother-in-law and retired academic Alexander (Gillies Macdonald), the professor's young wife Elena (Laura Boyd), his own elderly mother (Robyn Hayward), a nervous dependent named Cartwright (Oli Spooner), the household's gentle nanny (Georgina Cooper), and an eccentric loose cannon called Michael (Rufus Shutter). By the end, it has become clear that half the cast is in love with someone they shouldn't be, tensions have exploded that have been building for a lifetime, and most have had their worldviews and relationships shaken, if not shattered.
Chekhov's four acts take place under two stifling thematic shadows, which Robey's production vitalises ingeniously. The first is the death of Faith, John's sister, Sonya's mother, and Alexander's first wife. Here, Faith is literally haunting the narrative, as Elektra Voulgari Cleare deftly moves around the stage watching the action of the play at all times. This has a significant effect in the second half, though it does require Voulgari Cleare to watch in silence for the play's nearly three hour runtime (this would be an unrewarding task, if the performances she is watching were not so mesmerising). The second is the gradual destruction of the forests Michael holds so dear. Our environment's catastrophic desolation of is placed centre-stage here, as made clear by William Want and Rory Clarke's set design. Hanging from the rig is an array of bare branches and sticks, which form a three-dimensional gobo to texture Felix Gibbons' lighting and give the impression of natural light peering through a forest canopy. These constant reminders of a loved one still being grieved for and the ongoing death of our planet are combined in a grave-like mound of soil placed conspicuously upstage-centre. Although this choice does not quite make sense to me until the end of act three, it is eventually used in a moment that gives me chills. There is no rifle on the wall, only symbols of human and natural decay - Chekhov's gun has become our Earth.
Perhaps as a way of making everything a little more intimate, Robey has brought us into a thrust configuration, tightening the O'Reilly's usually massive playing space. There is a worry here, because the action is blocked according to its thrust staging, but only a small minority of the audience are lining the stage's left and right extremes. Sat in the small stage-right section of the audience, I never feel cheated, but I am conscious that the seventy-plus people sat in the conventional end-on seating block are seeing actors' backs a little too often. I have a similar experience with another issue, that of volume. On the front row, I can hear almost all of the dialogue clearly, but I doubt the same can be said for those at the back. One final concern before we get onto the fun bit (the acting): this is a production that takes its time. Long pauses are frequent - most of them feel justified, some don't. Silence can be an incredibly effective tool, but loses its impact when overused. Attacking philosophically or emotionally dense scenes with pace can actually often elevate how real and vital they feel for an audience. But then, Icke is not known for brevity - his Oresteia was four hours.
“Uncle Vanya”
Now, onto what makes this production so visceral and compelling: the performances, which are generally of an incredibly high standard. My only significant recommendation to the cast is that most of them would benefit from greater variety specifically in the intonation of successive lines (this is a long script, and things can get monotonous to the ear when dialogue starts repeating the same rhythms). According to Oliver Ford Davies, young actors are generally a little too concerned either with their own performance, or with the overall success of the ensemble of which they are a part. In big complex plays like Chekhov (ones where everyone gets a speech), the worry is that each actor will try too hard to steal the limelight for themselves, and end up contriving mainly to "show off" in the moments they deem apt for it, leaving their castmates either neglected or competing for attention. But Robey's performers strike a perfect balance: the cohesion and chemistry of this ensemble is palpable. Speaking of which, strong supporting performances are provided by Spooner and Cooper (the former plays live music at a few points throughout, which has an enormous impact!). Boyd is also compelling as a woman who has given her life away far too young; her defiant stillness is honest and mesmerising, and she brings catharsis in moments of higher energy.
Predictably, it is an absolute pleasure to witness Macdonald in his final performance in the Oxford University Drama Society, as he turns Alexander into an immense onstage presence. Macdonald displays an extraordinary capacity for measured gravitas, potent humour, and switching between the two rapidly. At some points, we see him as comically self-important, a dithering, condescending patriarch with no understanding of real working life. At others, he compels us to feel sympathetic for a well-meaning old man, and instils in us a visceral dread of old age and death. When Macdonald leaves the stage for the final time ("Goodbye, goodbye all"), all eyes follow him, and I am crushed by the thought that it may be a while before I see him onstage again.
Now, if I had left at the interval, I would've written in my review that Betru put in a good performance. I would've said: "Betru combines his characteristic likeable, casual charm with the age and aimlessness required for John, and it works well." Having seen the second half, I can say no less than I have witnessed a truly exceptional performance. The explosion of John's character in the third act is delivered with extraordinary force, truth and energy, and by its conclusion we are crying alongside him. I am honestly blown away.
Probably the highlight of the production, though, is Shutter's turn as Michael, a young "strange" doctor. It is difficult to take your eyes off this magnetic figure as he smirks, snogs, dances, and slides back and forth on a spectrum between unsettling and endearing, at once utterly dead and brimming with life. This is particularly true of the second act, and my prevailing memory of the evening will be the chilling abandon I see in the whites of his eyes during Michael and Sonya's conversation. Not only does Shutter deliver comfortably the best portrayal I've seen from him, it is a competitor for the best performance I've seen in Oxford (and that is not a low bar). Of course, he is filling some big shoes - this was Stanislavski's part, after all.
As I leave the O'Reilly (it is actually my first visit as an audience member, though two consecutive plays left me maddeningly familiar with the place in Spring of last year) I am satisfied that Robey has snuck another of his productions into my personal top three Oxford University Drama Society shows. I worry that people will think I'm sensationalising in my review, but the honest reality is that good acting excites me, especially when I am witnessing it three metres away. Needless to say, Vanya has gotten me in an excited mood. Thanks, Fennec Fox - I look forward to the next one.
4.5/5
Thanks are due to my friend Milo Marsh, for the insights of our post-show chat.
Photography Credit: Jamie Bernard and William Schwabach
Review by George Loynes
The link to George Loynes’s review blog is: https://roomwithreviewblog.blogspot.com/?m=1&fbclid=PAZXh0bgNhZW0CMTEAAadKaD9DWn-5mwBnPczPWh3KXF0Wm5MTE_D9WbXEiWAbpuhhg9yNdnyYWKaYSg_aem_MX4-paKRuQoHXi7vgFXpPw
“Uncle Vanya”
