Timofey Kulyabin is renowned for his use of sound and silence, so the opportunity to see his interpretation of Chekhov was a promising one. The cavernous Barbican was willed with life from the start of the play, even in the most still, quiet, moments. Kulyabin’s Ivanov is positioned in a more modern Russia, with suits and party dresses, but the same old familial obligations. The characters sparkled and overlapped one another, and were truly funny. It is joyful to see Chekhov performed with true gleeful fun, as this high makes the sad, still, lonely moments all the lower.
What was interesting is that the set changes were glacial. At first, I didn’t know why. They seemed to suck the energy out of the production, however the next scene would burst out, filled with energy anew. This sat with me for some time; it felt clunky and almost amateurish, but as I continued to reflect (for weeks! I saw this Oct 12!) it began to be clear to me that this was intentional. Slow, clearly performative, demonstrating the construction of Ivanov’s life, his world, and the precariousness of that construction.
It is also thrilling to see theatre performed for its audience; the vast majority of this audience were from the Russian community around London. Their reactions to moments in the play were certainly different; the personal touches, the jokes about how families work (slippers for all visitors, breaking into song…) were wonderful and there for the Russian audience and had echoes of my own upbringing in a Ukrainian family, far away in Canada. At the end, the audience cheered voraciously - there were about 8 curtain calls, and as they escalated, audience members brought forward flowers for the performers…part of a clear ritual.