Three Sisters, Southwark Playhouse

By B.Evans

I always used to feel a little nervous about going to see a Chekhov play. I would worry that I might be bored, and worse still, that it might be my fault. Of course I had duly received the knowledge that Chekhov was a genius and his works masterpieces, and I felt sure that deep insights into the human condition lurked in the melancholia that drenched his characters. But to my ear, it had often just sounded like endless moaning between long pauses. So the anxiety would bubble up: am I just not culturally intelligent or emotionally sensitive enough to get it?

Then I saw Benedict Andrews’ astonishing production of Three Sisters at the Young Vic in 2012 and breathed adeep sigh of relief. In his reworked updated version, there were real messy people on stage, talking my language. They swore and drank and sang and loved and cried with a fragility and an energy that was magnetic. The direction was bold and it worked powerfully with the abstract, symbolic staging to highlight the universality of the play. Loneliness, desperation and, most tragically and beautifully of all, hope are felt in all times and all places.

I came to the tentative conclusion that Chekhov probably was a genius and that his plays were still relevant, and (most importantly) I wasn’t a cultural or emotional dunce, but if I couldn’t see them in Russian, the ideal was probably to see them translated into the English that I actually speak. So bubbling with my newfound enthusiasm, I was looking forward to Anya Reiss’ modern reworking of Three Sisters at Southwark Playhouse. It was perhaps inevitable that I would be disappointed.

Reiss relocates the sisters to a private residence ‘near a British embassy, overseas, now’. They are pining for ‘home’, which is London. We learn that their dad uprooted them, built a new life abroad and then died, leaving them stranded in their big house with their servants. The problem is the sisters express a desire to return to London and there seems to be nothing whatsoever to prevent them from doing so. They are highly intelligent, articulate, beautiful and well-educated women, who speak many languages. They show no signs of being emotionally entrenched in this unnamed country. Only Masha has a significant anchor here, in the shape of her husband, Kulygin, and she doesn’t even demonstrate affection towards him, let alone loyalty. In this day and age, the sisters could apply for jobs in London and flat-hunt online. We see them taking selfies on an iPhone, but there is no reference to the global connectivity this technology affords them. They could probably even get Skype interviews and secure employment before leaving. In short, the updated context fundamentally undermines the premise of the play.

The three female leads are all capable actors. Emily Taaffe is beguiling as Masha. There is some tantalizing chemistry between her and Paul McGann as Vershinin. We can see from the start that, whenever he is present, to her he is the only light in a dark room. Masha is suffocated by her pitiable doting husband, Kulygin, and so we can understand her feeling trapped and desperate. When she clung to Vershinin as he left, convulsing with sobs, I felt for her. However, Olivia Hallinan and Holliday Grainger (as Olga and Irina respectively) have a harder job. Grainger is delightfully fresh-faced. She radiates sunshine and innocence. I struggled to believe that she had ever suffered. This naivety could possibly have provided a heartbreaking contrast to Hallinan’s stoical Olga if the situation had been truly tragic. As it was, any time either of them complained I just found myself wanting to scream ‘Do something about it then! Stop whining and make a change, you spoiled brat!' Without a sense of genuine hopelessness, it was almost impossible for them to evoke sympathy in me.

Reiss has clearly proven her talent as a writer in other projects and there are some nice touches here — the riotous karaoke rendition of Pulp’s Common People to disturb Andrey’s rather common wife, Natasha, is unexpected and funny. When the down-to-earth Tusenbach interrupts Vershinin and Masha’s somewhat self-indulgent philosophising with the remark ‘It’s hard work talking to you two,’ the writer’s self-awareness is winning. The replacement of the samovar with a coffee maker, Ferepont’s Christmas jumper and the reference to a mince pie eating competition are all amusing. However, this extremely naturalistic approach leaves much of the longer speeches feeling false. There is no heightened theatrical world, not in the writing, the design, nor the direction. This leaves the many extended poetic musings unsupported. This is a shame for McGann in particular. He has natural presence, and plays Vershinin with an easy authority. I felt in safe hands when he was onstage. But the context made some of his monologues seem a little absurd.

Personally, when I go to the theatre what I want most is to be moved. I believe there are many talented individuals involved in Three Sisters at Southwark Playhouse and the production is not without its merits. However, it didn’t cast that magic spell on me that allowed me to suspend my disbelief and fully invest in the lives of the characters. I remained distant from the trials and tribulations onstage. In the end, this took the power out of the climax of the play and left me rather cold.

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