Alexander Molochnikov had already turned “The Seagull” into a ballet for the Bolshoi, and planned to turn Chekhov’s play into an avant-garde spectacle for the Moscow Art Theater. Then Russia invaded Ukraine, Molochnikov spoke out against it, and he wound up an immigrant in New York. So now we have “Seagull: True Story,” a clever mash-up of Chekhov’s plot with a satirical version of Molochnikov’s effort to stage “The Seagull.” Molochnikov, who is credited with creating and directing the production, with a script by Eli Rarey, makes sharp if largely obvious points about the difficulty of creating art both in Russia and the United States. But the staging is witty and inventive enough to allow us to understand why the young artist, when still in his twenties, had been invited to direct “The Seagull” at the Moscow Art Theater, the venerable venue where Konstantin Stanislavski first helmed Chekhov’s masterpiece.
An MC (Andrey Burkovskiy), who feels straight of the musical “Cabaret,” welcomes us to the Moscow Art Theater, introduces us to the director Kon (Eric Tabach) and some of the other characters, and offers a description of the Chekhov play Kon is rehearsing: “Everyone knows the story, the plot is so simple. Basically nothing happens.” He then offers an irreverent synopsis, which is how the new play more or less unfolds as well. Kon, like Konstantin Treplev in Chekhov’s play, is an emerging artist, who is the son of a famous actress; in Chekhov’s play, Irina Nikolayevna Arkadina; in Molochnikov’s version, Olga (Zuzanna Szadkowski.) (For the record, Molochnikov’s mother is actually a journalist, not an actress.)
Kon has trouble managing his cast, in part because he is intimidated by directing Chekhov at the Moscow Art Theater: “I keep thinking of all the great directors who have directed this play before me.”
“I have worked with these so-great directors,” Olga snaps. “They were insecure idiots, just like you.”
The relationship between mother and son straddles the line between harsh and funny (often crossing it), helped by the standout performances by both Szadowski and Tabach.
Kon finally has a breakthrough with a “freedom dance” (choreography by Ohad Mazor) that’s one of the moments that presents some genuine thrills.
Once the war against Ukraine starts, that freedom is the first to go. Yuri, the theater manager (portrayed by Burkovskiy) explains: “They are passing new laws, every day. This dance, the freedom dance, it violates multiple laws … against cross dressing. Against insulting the army.”
Kon is outraged. “This is censorship” he explodes.
“Yeah, we know,” Olga says matter-of-factly.
But it’s not his staging that gets Kon in trouble. He and best friend Anton (Elan Zafir), drunk and high on marijuana brownies, cavort in Red Square near Lenin’s Tomb, saying the forbidden (“Welcome to Moscow, where we have a murderer in a mausoleum here and a murderer in the Kremlin there. My play has been murdered. But no one will ever go to jail.”) which is captured on Instagram.
His mother gets a threatening email from the Wagner group. Yuri urges him to apologize. Kon decides that he will escape to America on opening night, leaving Anton to read an opening statement – which gets Anton imprisoned.
In New York, Kon tries to stage “The Seagull” the way he wants it to be, meeting a contact of his mother’s, a Broadway producer named Barry (also portrayed by Burkovskiy, even sleazier than Yuri.) Kon pitches to Barry, who says let’s make it happen (which Barry’s assistant later interprets: “When Barry says let’s make it happen, that means no.”)
Barry actually wants Kon to work with him on “an immersive theatrical multimedia live experience” of The Three Little Pigs.” Kon eventually runs into a young woman name Nico who becomes his girlfriend, and connects him with communal group of would-be actors with names like Sorry and Gorgeous and Pickle, in Bushwick, who agree to do “The Seagull.” The MC comments: “America is amazing. Everyone is an artist and no one has a job.”
His new actors have some sincere objections, such as to the line “I killed this seagull….Soon I’ll kill myself…”
“I just think this line … it might be triggering for some people.”
“That’s the text…
“Maybe he could say ‘Soon I will unalive myself.”
For every such heavy-booted satirical flourish there are moments that work, many of them visual, such as a re-creation of a shirtless Putin straddling a horse.
If it can feel unfair for Molochnikov to equate the silencing of art (and humanity) in Russia to the silencing in America, it’s instructive to be reminded that the Russian government refused to call what it was doing in Ukraine a “war,” insisting it’s a “military operation” – which is exactly the euphemism (along with “excursion”) used by the United States government about its own current war.
Seagull: True Story
Public Theater through May 3
Running time: 2 hours and 30 minutes, including one intermission
Tickets: $109
Written by Eli Rarey
Created and Directed by Alexander Molochnikov
Choreography by Ohad Mazor, set design by Alexander Shishkin, costume design by Kristina K., lighting design by Brian H. Scott and Sam Saliba, sound design by Diego Las Heras,
Cast: Gus Birney as Nico, Andrey Burkovskiy as MC, Ohad Mazor as Gorgeous, Myles McCabe as Cosmo, Quentin Lee Moore as Ivan, Keshet Pratt as Pickle, Zuzanna Szadkowski as Olga, Eric Tabach as Kon, and Elan Zafir as Anton.
