The Seagull

The Seagull has landed. This writer has seen three productions of this classic Chekhov, sometimes-melancholy “comedy”—the playwright’s term—over the last 10 months: last fall’s studio production by the Actors Theatre of Sacramento, this summer’s production by Shakespeare Santa Cruz, still running, and the new production by the California Shakespeare Festival in Orinda.The Sacramento production had some lovely scenes, but the large cast of community actors didn’t have enough horsepower to sustain the show at a consistently high level.

The Santa Cruz production—outdoors in a redwood forest, drenched in fog—was a good, professional effort, with seven Equity actors taking the leads, and young actors like recent UC Davis graduate Drew Hirschfield rounding out the cast. But the chemistry between the four actors playing the writers and actresses at the core of the story wasn’t entirely right.

But the California Shakespeare production is one I’ve been looking for—funny, sad, wise and all too true to life.

It’s also performed outdoors, on the inland side of the East Bay Hills, and features eight Equity actors. Director Jonathan Moscone (also artistic director for Cal Shakes) does the best job developing the dual nature of Chekhov’s script. One the one hand, we see these cultured 1890s Russians enjoying their summer holiday at a lakeside country estate—playing games by candlelight, staging a little outdoor play. Their diversions and squabbles can be quite funny. But at the same time, these characters are caught in a slow but steady downward spiral, as they’re gradually overtaken by romantic disappointment, artistic urges that they can’t fulfill or sustain, and plain old middle-aged blahs. Life is getting away from them, and most of them know it, even if they can’t reverse the trend.

Moscone uses the new “translation” by the always-intelligent Tom Stoppard, who undoubtedly realized he was writing for a summer festival audience as he gently reshaped the dialog. Chekhov’s references to Shakespeare stand out in higher relief, while other lines are sharpened into razor-like comebackers.

Actress Susannah Schulman, a Santa Cruz veteran, makes for a tall, horsy Nina, and there’s a real sense of heat when she romances the wayward, famous Trigorin (James Carpenter, strong as a writer driven to create, but keenly aware of his own shortcomings). Kandis Chappell displays moments of genuine maternal concern beneath her egotistical exterior as the aging actress who keeps Trigorin as a lover, while Sean Dugan (as the son of the aging actress, and an aspiring writer) draws out his character’s frustration more clearly than others I’ve seen in the role. Also memorable is Emily Ackerman as Masha, the morose, vodka-drinking girl who dresses in black because she’s “in mourning for her life.”

One should also acknowledge the spare but effective set design (John Coyne) and thoughtfully selected music (ranging from Kronos Quartet to Eric Satie). Moscone doesn’t push the Russian angle as hard as most directors do, but that works out rather well, since it lets the audience blur Chekhov’s summer revelers with the lakeside retreats we may have known in our own lives.