Brighton Year-Round 2024
Vanya
Wessex Grove, Gavin Kalin Productions, Kater Gordon
Genre: Classical and Shakespeare, Comedic, Contemporary, Drama, European Theatre, Film, Mainstream Theatre, New Writing, Short Plays, Solo Play, Theatre
Venue: Screened as live from the Duke of York, The Odeon, Brighton
Festival: Brighton Year-Round, FringeReview UK
Low Down
“I mean his only good works were… adaptations.” It’s tempting to think Andrew Scott crafted that one, in his one-man Chekhov’s Uncle Vanya co-created by performer Scott with Simon Stephens, director Sam Yates and designer Rosanna Vise; and screened as live from the Duke of York. Of course it raises the roof. It manages to again at cinemas it’s screened in.
The joke’s on Alexander the Great as Liam the servant calls the faded film-maker (an academic in Chekhov’ original), without much irony. Scott’s channelled more than one character in a performance before, but not a whole cast.
“You won’t forget me.” That sounds pure Scott, or Chekhov kerned to Scott-speak. Vanya distils exactly what’s there, and the essence of Chekhov’s vision too. It sends us back to the original as if jetted through a venturi tube. This is the greatest one-man performance I’ve seen, said a Chekhov-immersed director of 45 years’ experience next to me. Yes.
Chekhov’s Uncle Vanya is co-created as Vanya by performer Andrew Scott with Simon Stephens. Director Sam Yates and Designer Rosanna Vise. Lighting Designer James Farncombe, Sound Designer Dan Balfour, Video Designer Jack Phelan, Movement Director Michaela Meazzza, Music Kelly Moran, Costume Designer Natalie Price, Understudy Victoria Blunt
Managing Director Digital Emma Keith, Director Digital Jane Fletcher, Technical Director Christopher C Bretnall, Sound Supervisor Conrad Fletcher, Chris Kaloov, Script Supervisor Stephanie Rose, Laura Vine, Wigs, Hair & Make-Up Supervisor Suzanne Scotcher. Producer Zoe Sherrard, Senior Producer Ollie Gardner, Colourist Tom Alexander, Camera Supervisor Chris Goor, Camera Operators Giles Pritchard, Josh Coomer, Christy Lee, Production Sound Engineer Ethan Szapnaler, Production Video Engineers Marc Lavallee, Sam Diaz
Further performances TBA and soon to be added to NTLiveAtHome
Review
“I mean his only good works were… adaptations.” It’s tempting to think Andrew Scott crafted that one, in his one-man Chekhov’s Uncle Vanya co-created as Vanya by performer Scott with Simon Stephens, director Sam Yates and designer Rosanna Vise; and screened as live from the Duke of York. Of course it raises the roof. It manages to again at cinemas it’s screened in.
The joke’s on Alexander the Great as Liam the servant calls the faded film-maker (an academic in Chekhov’ original), without much irony. Scott’s channelled more than one character in a performance before, but not a whole cast.
It’s a phenomenal performance, setting a new high even for Scott. Of course it’s a scream. But one from the abyss. Scott, with his genius for mining comedy out of a glacier, finds in tragi-comic Chekhov a way to precipitate grief.
Vise’s set is littered with the detritus of a shabby-modern mix of Irish Great House and farm. Boxes spill open as if a set’s being hatched. One remembers Jamie Lloyd’s rehearsal-scene Seagull of 2022, as if Chekhov has to be repeatedly deconstructed. It’ll be interesting to see what the Orange Tree does with Uncle Vanya next month.
There’s a door to exit and make entrances from, a piano to play and sometimes plays itself (Dan Balfour’s sound is strikingly haunted), curtains that move aside to mirror the audience – not an effect that works so much on film. James Farncombe’s lighting allows all kinds of tenebrous effects: he makes pure Caravaggio of the sex scene. And there’s a swing. Not seen one in Vanya for years.
Those who know Uncle Vanya will recognise it makes adjustments in the first 20 minutes, establishing Vanya’s slant before settling in Act Two for a relatively faithful narration of the rest of Chekhov’s play throughout its 90 minutes. Liam and Maureen are Irished. Other names remain.
It’s where Ivan works with his dead sister’s daughter Sonya to pay off debts and send the rents to her film-maker father Alexander. He’s coming suddenly with his beautiful young second wife Yelena. And Doctor Michael’s turning up: overworked, charismatic, idealistic and bloody miserable. He drinks too much. Sonya loves him, he doesn’t notice. And then the inevitable collisions.
Scott mesmerises in an emerald-green t-shirt, sunglasses he drops into place for Ivan – or Vanya – or a tiny silver necklace for Yelena, a red cloth for Sonya, and for Michael an unadorned stare.
His every flick of hand, wrist, neck is more than a twist of irony: playfulness turns tragic. In his rendition of Jacques Brel’s ‘Ne quitte pas’ in English, Scott seems not so much lamenting his attraction to Yelena, but – like Masha in The Seagull – in mourning for his life.
Like characters from Barlow’s The 39 Steps, Scott flickers between characters on a turn, revolves through the door, at one moment again represents the moment of discovery of Yelena and Michael twice: by having Vanya walk through the door with a bouquet after the chiaroscuro eroticism of Scott’s solo-sex-scene, which isn’t in the least guyed, but is charged and moving.
Every inflection’s there. There’s moments of exquisite pathos, as the red cloth used to signify Sonya is actually flipped by Michael to show she’s just that: a dear, solid, clever plain person of dish-clouts.
And of course there’s the way Scott and his team write the one-liners. Michael’s “You wanted to see my maps?” to Yelena bodies an archness not originally there. You feel Chekhov would approve.
This is Chekhov by lightning though: you won’t get the pathos of a full-cast production, but you gain something new, Chekhov’s Vanya rawly comic and intimately stricken. “I can’t forgive myself. I fired. And I missed. And I fired again. And missed again.” It’s a way in, not always present in full productions.
“You won’t forget me.” That sounds pure Scott, or Chekhov kerned to Scott-speak. Vanya distils exactly what’s there, and the essence of Chekhov’s vision too. It sends us back to the original as if jetted through a venturi tube. This is the greatest one-man performance I’ve seen, said a Chekhov-immersed director of 45 years’ experience next to me. Yes.
