This morning, in looking at the Fall Arts Preview (Part II) in the SF Chronicle this morning, I noticed that Uncle Vanya is being staged at SF State from Nov 20 - Dec 6. Wow, yet another performance. I've been surprised by the number of times that Uncle Vanya been been staged. Is the play being performed disproportionately often in the U.S. and Canada? Maybe it's because my obsession with the play makes me look out for it, making it only seem more popular than other plays.
I ponder this question as I wonder whether I'm the only one who is so into this play. Clearly there are people with a much more serious investment in the play, such as anyone who has participated in any production of Uncle Vanya. I'm thinking of folks like myself who come at the play as an amateur.
Today, I got the sense that no, I'm not the only person out there who has heard the play speak to them, when I found a new translation by Curt Columbus that was commissioned for the (apparently famous) Steppenwolf Theatre Company in Chicago. Eureka was my reaction to the prefatory essay by Columbus. Let me quote a bit of it (p. 4):
Of what are considered to be Chekhov's "four major plays," Uncle Vanya is unique -- a lyrical, claustrophobic character study that takes place over a short period of months on the Serebryakov estate. Gone is the sweep of years that moves the plots of Seagull and Three Sisters. The issues of class and wealth that pervade the other plays have no importance in this drama. There are no grande dames of the stage here, no general's daughters, no wealthy landowners. This is a petty squabble over an inheritance, an issue of a few hundred rubles a month. These are a handful of little people--a country doctor, a simple farmer and his niece, a retired professor and his too-young wife--who are trying to find some meaning and some romance in their little lives. Strangely, it is these very qualities of ordinariness that give the play such enormous resonance with modern American audiences.
"Uncle Vanya is an American play," a Russian director once told me. "Family members come for a visit, they fight, they scream, someone fires a gun, and then everyone makes up and says, 'See you next Christmas.'" This overly simplistic assessment gets at the core of why the play engenders such interest, such passion in America in the late twentieth and early twenty-first centuries. After one has experienced the claustrophobic poetry of Tennesse Williams' fire escapes and tiny rooms, Chekhov's estate seems all the more vivid. After one has witnessed the works of Sam Shepherd, a handful of little people squabbling over an inheritance seems overly familiar. After one has watched the films of Woody Allen, Uncle Vanya feels like an old, amusing family friend, appearing both funny and tragic at the same time. Today's American audience feels finally what Chekhov spoke so succintly a hundred years ago.
I don't know much about Tennesse Williams or Sam Shepherd myself -- but this essay encourages me to explore these playwrights.
Posted by rdhyee at September 7, 2003 09:16 PM