Berkeley Rep’s ‘Vanya’ finds warmth amid cold reality
John Benjamin Hickey (left) is Dr. Ástrov and Hugh Bonneville is Uncle Vanya in Conor McPherson’s adaptation of Anton Chekhov’s Uncle Vanya at Berkeley Repertory Theatre through March 23. Photo by Kevin Berne
A wonderful thing happened at Wednesday’s opening-night performance of Uncle Vanya in the intimacy of the 3/4-thrust stage at Berkeley Repertory Theatre’s Peet’s Theatre. Throughout the play are mentions about relieving the dread of the present moment by thinking about the world 100 years from now (the play is set at the turn of the 19th to the 20th century) when you’ll be dead and won’t have to worry about anything anymore. But then, the titular character gets a little more hopeful. “I think about the people, 100 years from now,” Vanya says. “They'll have figured it all out.”
The line gets a gentle laugh, as audience members, all visible to one another, chuckle sympathetically at the sad irony of our reality feeling as opposite to “figured out” as possible. Then the laughter continues to roll back and forth across the theater in rueful acknowledgment of another line from the play (in an adaptation by Conor McPherson): “Everything is the same as ever, except worse.”
And there is Uncle Vanya. Sad and funny, simple and profound, intimate and epic. It’s no wonder the singular word to describe such contradictions is “Chekhovian.” Berkeley Rep’s Vanya, a collaboration with Shakespeare Theatre Company of Washington, D.C., captures all of that in a beautifully calibrated production directed by Simon Godwin (STC’s artistic director) that is especially good at finding a pace that feels contemporary – faster than it might have been prior to the great shortening of our collective attention span – but letting moments sit without feeling rushed.
Ito Aghayere as Yelena gently rebuff’s the affections of Bonneville’s Vanya. Photo by Kevin Berne
Godwin leans into Chekhov’s prescience about “civilized” society – that our vast knowledge, our unique ability to create, our inability to quell our deepest pains will almost always lead to devastation – by giving us a semi-period production. An actor arrives late to the theater on bicycle, stagehands roll costume racks around the stage, other actors chat with audience members or go through their pre-show ritual all within full view of the audience.
Kina Kantor, who will underscore parts of the show with her poignant solo cello, sets the scene: a run-down rural Russian estate in 1900. There are fluorescent bar lights over the stage, giving a cool, industrial glow to Robert Brill’s simple, uncluttered set, which switches from outdoors to various of the estate’s 26 rooms with unfussy ease.
Everything looks worn down because after decades of hardscrabble farming, everything (and everyone) is worn down. The estate is managed by Vanya (Hugh Bonneville of Downton Abbey and Paddington fame) and Sonya (Melanie Field), daughter of Vanya’s beloved late sister. Any money earned by the estate supports Sonya’s father, a once-esteemed professor whose academic career in a far-away city has fizzled. Now in retreat from his failed career, Professor Serébryakov (Tom Nellis) has returned to the estate with his second (much younger and quite beautiful) wife, Yelena (the stunning Ito Aghayere).
The estate crew, which also includes housekeeper Nana (Nancy Robinette), lodger Waffles (Craig Wallace) and Vanya’s mother (Sharon Lockwood), tolerates the new arrivals with varying degrees of loathing, acceptance and adoration. But Vanya is especially unhappy to have the condescending, ungrateful professor in the house, although the presence of Yelena has stirred some deep romantic longing in him.
(From left) Bonneville as Vanya, Melanie Field as Sonya and Craig Wallace as Waffles. Photo by Kevin Berne
Also stirred by Yelena’s arrival is Astrov (John Benjamin Hickey), a beleaguered local doctor and staunch eco-warrior (way ahead of his time and sadly 100% accurate) whose grave disappointment in people has given way to a penchant for drink (with Vanya being his favorite drinking buddy).
Chekhov doesn’t go for melodrama, so he simply sets all his players in motion, and though the drama flares from time to time, it’s mostly on a slow boil heated by deeply internal conflicts between expectation vs. reality. Fears of wasted lives, a futile existence and endless days stretching into a grim future make Vanya a deeply sad play, and it just gets sadder as it goes through its 2 1/2 hours.
For all of that, there’s a welcome vein of humor coursing through the drama. Bonneville is especially adept at getting laughs from the simplest of lines. It is said of Vanya that he’s always the guy who makes people feel better and more chipper. But he’s exhausted, and the arrival of city folk into his predictable country life has shaken him. His bitterness, frustration and disappointment are squashing any remaining good humor.
Ultimately, this is a cold, lonely story, but director Godwin finds warmth where he can, and his wonderful actors are more than up to the challenge of finding complications and connections in their characters. As the play progresses, the more modern touches (like the fluorescent lights) fade away, and more period details emerge (especially in Susan Hilferty and Heather C. Freedman’s costumes), while lighting designer Jen Schriever washes the stage in early autumn light and the intimacy of candlelight.
A soul-deep darkness pervades the end of Uncle Vanya, but that doesn’t stop Sonya from pushing against the gloom. She musters up an inspirational speech, and even if it feels unconvincing to herself, she’s not retreating. Things may be the same but worse, but where there’s a smidge of fight, there’s action, and where there’s action, there can be hope, at least for another day.
FOR MORE INFORMATION
Chekhov’s Uncle Vanya (adapted by Conor McPherson) continues through March 25 at Berkeley Repertory Theatre’s Peet’s Theatre, 2025 Addison St., Berkeley. Running time is 2 hours and 30 minutes (including one intermission). Tickets are $25-$134 (subject to change). Call 510-647-2949 or visit berkeleyrep.org.
