The Seagull/Woodstock, NY Off-Broadway Reviews

Bradshaw’s adaptation is frequently hilarious. In fact, I was laughing so much throughout that I thought the more dramatic moments might not hit as hard when they came, but the production powerfully builds to a deeply affecting and suitably abrupt conclusion. This is a supremely satisfying night of theatre, and one not to be missed.

Still, I'm left to wonder whether a few moments of enhanced relevance are worth the bother of a comprehensive and often counterproductive update. Couldn’t this cast have pulled off the standard edition? And pulled it off more smoothly, without the staging longueurs occasioned by the rough text and the stop-and-go direction? (But do keep the fabulous contemporary clothing by Qween Jean.)

Under Scott Elliott’s direction, some of the other actors (Patrick Foley, Daniel Oreskes, Bill Sage, Amy Stiller) and their supporting characters almost come off superfluous. (To be honest, that’s often my reaction when I see the original.) The exceptions are David Cale’s wonderfully flighty landowner and Nef, who gives Sasha a droll contralto delivery that starts out ridiculously inappropriate before ending up downright tragic.

What arises out of all this is an unresolved tension between sending up the theater and revering it. Woodstock never strays too far from The Seagull, in plot or tone, poking at theatrical conventions, but never overthrowing them, on the way to dutifully reenacting the beats of tragedy. For all Bradshaw’s provocations in dialogue, I wondered if the plot could change a bit with the new era too. The play comes in throwing elbows, ready to épater la bourgeoisie, but ends up feeling rather respectful of and beholden to the classics.

Despite their anchoring performances, The Seagull/Woodstock, NY doesn’t always soar but instead hovers at a pace that occasionally needs propulsion.

Perhaps the best (the only?) way to enjoy this bagatelle is to abandon any notion of fidelity or depth and roll with the jokes. After all, The Seagull has survived innumerable treatments – respectful and otherwise – over the past 128 years. The play still has insights to impart, though they’re hard to discern here.

Under the scattershot direction of Scott Elliott, the actors, many of whom are familiar, are all over the place. At times, you feel like they’ve just been introduced to each other. Some manage to find the humanity in their characters, with Nef, Wolff, Cale and Amy Stiller having their moments. And Posey is an absolute delight, even if she feels miscast, with her extensive comedic experience in Christopher Guest’s films (and many, many others) serving her well in her impeccably timed delivery of Irene’s biting asides.

Regrettably, the design elements were not enough to transport me into the world of the play. I found myself growing more and more impatient. Having lived for a year in the Catskills, this was not a Woodstock I recognized and certainly not with people I want to spend time. I am also fairly certain I never saw any seagulls there, but that's the least of the problems with The Seagull/Woodstock, NY.