Despite Updates, ‘Seagull’ Soars

The Harvard-Radcliffe Dramatic Club (HRDC) presentation of Anton P. Chekhov’s “The Seagull” is passionate yet mundane, revitalizing yet draining, and funny yet heartbreaking—in short, it covers the entirety of the playwright’s paradoxical playground.

“The Seagull” revolves around ten actors and writers at a country home, and the final fourth act is set two years after a defining episode, allowing audiences to see how each character has changed—usually for the worse. While there is no singular protagonist, the struggles of a few characters dictate the action.

The dominating, chattering mother, Arkadina (Lauren L. Jackson ’07), simply overpowers all conversation with her affected elitism. Her success as an actress and cultural savvy as a socialite affect everyone around her, especially her son, the ambitious playwright Konstantin Treplev (Liam R. Martin ’06). Other involving characters include the ailing Sorin (Sean P. Bala ’09), the conflicted, self-important writer Trigorin (Jack E. Fishburn ’08) and the aspiring actress Nina (Sophie C. Kargman ’08).

In this adaptation, directed by Adam G. Zalisk ’07, the incidental music does not draw from period music but rather taps the tense isolation of bands like Interpol and The Velvet Underground. Though the music differs from earlier presentations of the play, the sentiments evoked remain the same. The sense of disconnect and longing that we see in Konstantin’s failed creative struggle is still reflected in the modern rock bands, who seek in their dark music and experimental lyrics the same “new forms” that Konstantin attempts to construct in his plays and writings. It is a strikingly effective directorial decision, connecting modern viewers to the action and reinforcing through another medium the play’s pain and conflict.

The minimalist production by set designer Melissa E. Goldman ’06 is deeply effective. In the close quarters of the Loeb Ex, every lighting cue, prop, and backdrop cannot help but be scrutinized in the context of the play. For the most part, these elements all work. In the last act, densely colored photographs of the cast hang on clotheslines. These pictures confront the audience directly, forcing them to look straight into the eyes and dreams of each character.

Present onstage throughout almost all of the play are a few key props: white chairs, white fences, and a lot of liquor. The characters chatter, confess, and flail freely about the confines of these props while also remaining under their influence. From the resigned and self-pitying Masha (Lillian Ritchie ’08) to the quietly desperate Paulina (Shannon Parvis), all the characters struggle within the stark physical boundaries provided. Only the successful Dr. Dorn (Paul P. Linden-Retek ’08) seems comfortable, a sign of his self-assured confidence.

In particular, the characters severely struggle with the four or five sturdy white chairs perpetually onstage. In moments of extreme anguish or anger, the characters take out their frustrations on them—banging them, overturning them, and throwing them about the theater. The intensity and violence in each character’s furniture battles mirrors the intensity of their personal battles.

Despite the half-hearted attempt to adapt the setting and costumes from nineteenth-century Russia to what appears to be the Hamptons, this production of the play still remains strikingly modern in its conflicts and emotions.

While the play does occasionally resort to outright hysterics, such outbursts are always both warranted and intensely moving. In particular, Martin’s and Kargman’s messy, passionate performances are so intensely emotional that, in intimate theater, they transcend the sometimes overwrought melodrama of great Russian writing, and they manage to transmit to the audience something heartbreakingly real.

“The Seagull” is often harrowing and even unpleasant, yet it is still ultimately fulfilling for viewers. And, despite its updates, in the end, the play remains rather intact and unscathed—which is much more than I can say for the chairs.