After watching Andrew Scott portray all eight characters by himself in a new version of Chekhov’s “Uncle Vanya,” which is playing Off-Broadway at the Lucille Lortel through May 11, I suddenly thought of the scene from the movie “Saturday Night Fever” when Stephanie tells Tony excitedly about having seen Laurence Olivier in person, and Tony says: “Who’s that?”
“Laurence Olivier is the greatest actor in the world!” she exclaims. “You know who he is.”
Tony looks blank; feels dumb, outclassed.
“He’s the English actor on television who does those Polaroid commercials.”
“Oh, him!” Tony replies, looking relieved. “He’s good. He is good.”
I guess I felt a bit like Tony. Andrew Scott is good; he is undeniably a good actor. His accolades include having won two Laurence Olivier (!) Awards for Best Actor. I’m impressed. I was just not sure why he is performing a one-man Vanya, other than to impress us by pulling it off. What does it add to the play?
I’m not saying “Uncle Vanya” is too sacrosanct to be messed with. It’s used to it. Over the last few years I’ve seen “Uncle Vanyas” up the wazoo — a starry one last year on Broadway, “Vanyas” adapted by Annie Baker, Richard Nelson. Neil LaBute, even a New Saloon’s production that used six English translations simultaneously, ranging from Marian Fell’s (the first, which was published in the United States in 1912) to Google Translate. I’ve experienced so many Uncle Vanyas that the only one that truly stands out in my memory is the one by the Reduced Shakespeare Company, which is, in its entirety:
“Are you Uncle Vanya?”
“I am.”
[Gunshot sounds]
“Ouch!”
— and that’s an undeniably bad translation. For one thing, all the characters actually already know one another.
Somehow, few of the productions I’ve attended were as satisfying as simply reading the play, which is a riveting portrait of a group of Russians in a 19th century country estate who each suffer in different ways – whether from\\ regret, or frustration or unrequited longing . On stage, the characters are not usually as riveting. They’re too often stilted and lugubrious
Andrew Scott is rarely lugubrious, and never stilted in the roles. He’s sometimes riveting. He is almost always busy. Busy changing voices and accents, bouncing a tennis ball, taking on and off hip sunglasses, playing a piano, jumping on and off a swing, smoking and not smoking, drinking an entire bottle of vodka, shooting a rifle.
Each of these gestures is meant to telegraph a particular character, although, given the unfamiliar accents and the acoustics of the old theater, and the overall novelty of the set-up, I’ll confess I couldn’t always figure out which character had which telltale habit. I think Michael the doctor was the one bouncing the tennis ball, and Maureen the housekeeper was the one smoking. The rifle I knew to be Vanya, because that’s what the character famously does in the play. (Tip: Brush up on the plot before seeing this production.), The creative team seemed to understand the challenge. The adaptation, written by Simon Stephens, is self-evidently geared for a one-man production, the characters calling each other by name more often than usual:
Michael: What’s going on Ivan?
Ivan: Nothing’s going on, Doctor
(Ivan, to clear up any confusion, is Vanya.)
Sometimes this felt a little silly
Helena: Can you move your arm please, Ivan? No, can you move your arm please, Ivan. Oh Ivan, just move you arm please.
Ivan: Nobody’s stopping you Helena
Helena: Ivan! Ivan, just get out of my…! Ivan!
If I couldn’t grasp what precisely was going on, I knew for certain it was between Ivan and Helena.
Where and when this “Vanya” is taking place is also not instantly evident. The characters frequently use present Anglo-Saxon curse words (one in particular.) Alexander, the brother-in-law that Vanya envies and despises, is now an over-the-hill filmmaker, not a once-esteemed college professor. The country estate seems to be an efficiency, judging from the kitchenette that set designer Rosanna Vize has installed in one corner of a utilitarian set, which doesn’t cohere into any identifiable time or place. Scott playfully turns the lights on and off at the start of the play, apparently just to show us they’re working. It’s part of his playful approach; he sometimes seems to be winking at us.
“Vanya” ends the way “Uncle Vanya” always does, with words of comfort and optimism from Sonia, despite the dark times, “We’ll live through these endless, endless days. And these endless, endless nights. We’ll take whatever life throws at us. We’ll work. We’ll do what needs to be done…” It’s one of the few times Andrew Scott isn’t busy, and one of the few moments when I got it.
Vanya
Lucille Lortel Theater through May 11
Running time: two hours, no intermission
Tickets: $104 – $434
Performer and co-creator Andrew Scott
Adaptor and co-creator Simon Stephens
Lighting design by James Farcombe
Movement director Michaela Meazza
Director and co-creator Sam Yates
Sound designer Dan Balfour
Music Kelly Moran
Set designer and co-creator Rosanna Vize
Video designer Jack Phelan
Costume designer Natalie Price
Photos by Julia Cervantes
