Review: UNCLE VANYA, Orange Tree Theatre

Legend has it that Chekhov penned Three Sisters intending it as a comedy. “Vhy are zey not laughing?” thought poor Anton at opening night. I imagine Trevor Nunn wondered the opposite at the opening night of his new production of Uncle Vanya where the audience periodically erupted in giggles as the dour faced characters lamented their emotional torment and perpetual ennui.

Plagued with a gloopy pace and peppered with clunky lines - “I’m capital B bored!” declares Yelena (God I knew how she feels) Nunn’s own wonky-handed adaption is the root cause of the problems here. Faithfully staged in the period dress and cramped into in the Orange Tree’s intimate in the round stage, the resulting identity crisis rivals that of Vanya’s. Comedy? Tragedy? Both? Who knows.

At the epicentre is Jance Lance’s unmodulated take on Vanya, more an indignant teenager erupting in a hormonal tantrum than an existential anti-hero. He lacks verbal or physical precision to surgically navigate Vanya’s psychology; the role demands scalpel precision, not bumper car flailing antics. No wonder the production is lopsided towards silliness.

Madeleine Gray’s Sonya is the saving grace, single-handedly conjuring the play’s dramatic weight. Her skittish childlike charm shines, gingerly flirting with Astrov, hands awkwardly gripping the corners of her apron. A young woman doomed to dreariness by the world around her but still stoically putting on a brave face. Beneath her smile lies the real tragedy.

Her exchanges with Andrew Richardson’s Astrov send sparks flying. Richardson is the needed shot of adrenaline. Gleefully galivanting with musical theatre physicality, his fluidity likely an inheritance from his star turn in the Bridge Theatre’s Guys & Dolls.

Despite their strong chemistry, it’s not enough buoyancy to keep the production afloat. There’s a reference to Gogol’s The Government Inspector. Dead Souls would be more appropriate. 

The Orange Tree has made a name for itself brushing the dust off almost forgotten classics and breathing new life into them. Credit where it is due, not many theatres are tripping over themselves to programme Goldsmith or Maugham.

Whilst Vanya is a classic it is certainly not a forgotten one. London has seen its fair share: Andrew Scott’s punkish one-man version graced the West End only a few months ago. It was impossible to forget. The opposite is true here. A straight-laced production just feels, dare I say, slightly tedious, especially when the script lacks the electricity to keep it charged for two and half hours.

Uncle Vanya plays at the Orange Tree until April 13

Photo Credit: Manuel Harlan

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