The more theatre I go to see, the more convinced I am that less is more, at least in terms of visual production trappings such as props, costumes, set and so on.
I saw a production of Chekhov's Platonov at the Barbican a few weeks ago, as conceived by the Maly Drama Theatre Company of St. Petersburg. Platonov--an early play--presents us with the tragic anti-hero Platonov and the complicated world he has created for himself, set on an estate in the Russian countryside. Platonov's world unravels in front of our eyes, as we discover the fruits of his varied and sordid love affairs and how they come to bear. Despite the fact that the play was performed in Russian with subtitles, it was possibly the funniest interpretation of Chekhov I have ever seen. (On second thought, maybe this is
because it was entirely in Russian.)
Although to say it was the funniest Chekhov I've seen is not saying much--I rarely find anything besides pathos and misery whenever I see Chekhov performed in English. Someone once told me that Westerners misinterpret his work by getting bogged down by over-seriousness because they do not understand the culture in which it was written. Russians are generally more expressive than the English--the emotions that feature so prominantly in plays like The Cherry Orchard and Uncle Vanya are meant to be played with more vivacity and enthusiasm than Western audiences are used to seeing them. Perhaps it was because I was a non-Russian-speaking audience member, but I found myself following the peaks and troughs of Platanov's emotional journey through the vocal and physical expressions of the performers as much as through the dialogue.
The Maly is known for long and in-depth rehearsal periods and has the distinction of being a company that is also connected to a drama school; in this way, the director Lev Dodin is able to train his own actors and bring his students into the company as they mature and graduate from the program. Additionally, the actors all played an instument throughout the performance--some playing while others spoke and vice-versa. The Maly Drama is unique in that it teaches its students and company members such specialized skills as the productions dictate them.
Other Maly productions I have seen have been characterized by this depth and thoroughness of feeling and vision, but also a relatively--but satisfyingly--spare set. In Platonov, however, the set was one of the most elaborate I have seen on any London stage in recent months. It consisted of chairs, tables, different levels, stairs, fireworks and even a real swimming pool into which the actors dove in and out. When one comes to the Barbican, one expects a cleverly interpreted (and usually well-funded) performance, hence the reason why I was less surprised to see an onstage swimming pool there than I would have anywhere else. It created an interesting dynamic to the performance as well as a different kind of depth to the playing space.
I did not, however, feel that Platonov was served any better by an elaborate staging than it would have been by a minimal set. I was swept up enough by the story and the swirling emotions of the performers that I did not need the overstimulation of fireworks and a swimming pool. The fact that the actors also formed an impromptu jazz band to create musical intervals and an evolving score throughout the play was enough to justify the price of the tickets for me. In the end, I usually feel that I would rather be taken through a piece by the quality of the performance rather than the extensiveness (and expense) of the set.
So what if the Arts Council budget was cut by 30% on Sunday? Let's move back towards a poor theatre.
Fuselit: Proof is pocket-sized and includes a free CD with, among other things, a reading of Ryan Van Winkle's The water is cold set to music by artist Ragland. There's also colour artwork and poetry from Barney Tidman, Aliyah Whiteley, Richard Watt, John Osbourne, Nicoletta A. Poulakida and others.
