The Seagull @ Barbican

There is little that is nice about these people. Ostermeier’s new production of Chekhov’s The Seagull, adapted with Duncan Macmillan, breathes modern ennui and longing into a story over 100 years old. The characters in this play are petty, selfish, petulant, and buffoonish; at no point does Ostermeier try to make them good or admirable, and as a result, we get some exceptional performances from the exquisite cast.

The display of class cues to elicit understanding of the characters’ rank is notable; while these people endure one another, they certainly don’t (for the most part) like one another. Kostya (Kodi Smit-Mcphee) merely tolerates Masha (a pitch perfect Tonya Reynolds), despite her obsession with him. Masha openly disdains Simon (a brilliant Zachary Harris, who in his northern accent, armed with a guitar, is our window into the world).

Emma Corrin’s Nina is heartbreaking; the contrast between her first and second act selves is outstanding, and the thoughtful approach to her breakdown is really quite darkly beautiful. Where many would play Nina’s breakdown in broad melodramatic strokes, Corrin’s Nina appears to be crumbling before our eyes, a porcelain doll teetering at the edge of the shelf.

And what do we say about Trigorin? Tom Burke does not interpret him as an esthete, but rather as a boorish bro, who happened into writing. He is brutish and self centered, making Nina’s love of him more tragic, and his ability to forget about her, the little plaything, all the more believable.

Finally, Cate Blanchett’s Arkadina is a dream. She is a clown, almost bipolar in her swings between desperation for attention and brooding quiet. All the characters have their moments amplified by the microphones on stage, wherein they speak their performative thoughts into amplification, and for Arkadina these are unsurprisingly the most frequent, and the most haunting. The argument where she manipulates Trigorin specifically stands out, as does her breakdown with Kostya.

The willingness to step in and out of the fourth wall, a constant awareness of the act of performance and the presence of the audience makes this Seagull truly powerful. We are all actors, putting on a face, an act, to appear the way we want the world to see us. Some of us are just more aware of it than others.

Richard III - Schaubuhne Berlin (recording)

I watched this recording of the performance via the Schaubühne Berlin website; they are making one show per day available, find them here.

This blog is quickly devolving into a Lars Eidinger/Thomas Ostermeier fan account, and I’m not sad about it. I skipped the live stream of Hamlet, having seen it live in 2012 at Barbican, in favour of seeing another interpretation, their Richard III. It did not disappoint.

This is wild Shakespeare. Messy, beautiful, visually poetic Shakespeare where the extremity and heightened images and physicality match the height of the language. Every time I watch a German production of Shakespeare, I’m reminded of how safe the work here in Canada and in the UK can be. How Bardolatry has superseded everything else; how if you do something other than stand and speak the words, somehow you are not “doing Shakespeare”. These productions are here to remind us that isn’t the case, nor is it necessary.

The industrial nature of the set, mashing images of high society ballgowns and suits with German club culture, and a warehouse aesthetic underscore how Richard is different from those around him. This Richard is plainly manipulative; we see the props and prosthetics that create his difference as items clearly clipped on to him. We see him manipulating his physical appearance, and using that to manipulate those around him. His early scene with Anne isn’t him seducing her but rather deploying his vulnerability into making her feel responsible for him - a choice which for me actually helps to rationalize Anne’s choice to marry him (especially when viewed from a modern context).

Finally, by re-framing Richard as a manipulative sociopath rather than a power hungry wannabe leader, the final battle scene re-positioned as occurring entirely in his mind, we simultaneously feel pity and revulsion for this terrible self-interested human.

The use of sound design and projected visuals on top of the industrial space further created a sense of the scale of this world. This is magnificent, huge, epic Shakespeare.

Hedda Gabler - Schaubuhne Berlin (recorded)

I watched this streamed from the Schaubuhne website. You can watch it here until late in the evening Mar 28.

I won’t lie; i’ve been obsessed with this production purely based on still photos and written reviews for approximately 6 years. So when I learned that Schaubuhne were offering it in their nightly streaming during the theatre’s closure, I blocked the day.

It did not disappoint.

Initially, Jan Pappelbaum’s striking and majestic design strikes you. The sheer opulence and glamorous veneer of the Tesman house is magnificent. The walls rain. The apartment, although open and airy, feels claustrophobic, emphasized by the revolve, and the mirror positioned above the stage, so that even when a character is in another room, they are visible. This world is inescapable. Stifling. Director Thomas Ostermeier has laid his trap.

Lars Eidinger’s Tesman is bumbling and sweet, clearly enamoured with Hedda, who is visibly disgusted by him. The fact that she is so, just contributes to her petulance. She is like a tempestuous teenager, whom everyone is simply trying not to set off, while infantilizing her. Katharina Schüttler is magnetic. Even moping around in pyjamas, her playful yet sadistic nature is at once intimidating and sexy.

The balance of the other two men in her life - Jörg Hartman’s slimy smooth and manipulative Brack, and Kay Bartholomaus Schulz’s intellectually tortured Lovbørg - creates this triangle in a manner clearer to me than I’ve ever seen before. Each of these men, on some level, offers a piece of what Hedda wants, but ultimately it is the intellectual stimulation that only Lovbørg can offer, which she wants but is not on offer to her.

The violence in the script, often forgotten or downplayed, is front and centre. In spite of the beautiful surroundings and beautiful people, these are ugly, terrible humans. Humans driven by base desires and willing to manipulate to get what they want. Even Tesman isn’t off the hook in Ostermeier’s view.

It is truly a mark of masterful direction when a play that I know inside out, can still surprise me, and make me feel anxious in anticipation of what is going to happen next. Some of the moments created by Ostermeier in the final third of the play create such a beautifully intense tension that it is impossible to look away, even when it is all you want to do.

The final moments, when life goes on, and Hedda has died, where we’re forced to watch, and continue to watch, were gut wrenching as an audience member, yet as a director made me giddy with joy.