Three Sisters by Anton Chekhov (Sarah Ruhl edition)

“Medicine is my lawful wife and literature is my mistress.”

So wrote Anton Chekhov, considered to be one of the founders of Modernism in theater. He practiced as a medical doctor for most of his life, but managed in his spare time to turn out some of the best regarded short stories and plays of his - or any - era.

My first Chekhov was his early play, Ivanov. Later, I saw The Cherry Orchard at CSUB. (Unfortunately, I didn’t blog about it at the time.) While Ivanov felt a bit like a first effort (which it was), the later four plays are masterpieces. (That group also includes The Seagull and Uncle Vanya.) The themes are clearer, and the drama seems more focused. Because Chekhov was an early Modernist, the language of his characters sound more like real vernacular (unlike, say, Shakespeare.) However, depending on the translation, this characteristic tends to get lost.

In this case, The Empty Space used a new translation/adaptation by Sarah Ruhl. It is considered an adaptation because Ruhl is (by her own admission) not fluent enough in Russian to do a real translation. However, she worked with several individuals who assisted in ascertaining the meaning of the original text and converting it to an English idiom. The intent was to render Chekhov’s words both fairly literally and yet also in a modern English vernacular. Oh, and also to restore some of the stuff taken out by Victorian Era censors.

Personally, I loved what Ruhl did with the story. It flowed well, even as there were so many lines that just screamed “Russian Literature!” in a familiar way. Although I haven’t read this one in another translation, I did run through some synopses of the plot, and it wasn’t a “retelling” in the way movies often are. It was true to the original in the letter and spirit.

I highly recommend reading Ruhl’s notes on how she approached the new version. She includes the first scene in that link, so you can get an idea of her language.

Three Sisters is a simple enough story, without much in the way of surprises. The drama is internal: what goes on in the minds of the characters. And, what is the meaning of life? That is a central concern of Chekhov’s, and his is a pretty pessimistic vision. (My middle daughter, who is pretty macabre, said, “well that was depressing” afterward.)

The three sisters are Olga, Masha, and Irina. Their father died a year before the play opens, leaving them and their brother Andrei living on the family property in a provincial Russian town. (Population, around 100,000, as it turns out.) This is in stark contrast to Moscow, where they were born and spent their formative years. The sisters all want to get back to Moscow, which they see as everything their current circumstances aren’t: sophisticated, adventuresome, and full of opportunity.

However, circumstances get in the way. Andrei falls in love with the lower-class Natalya (Natasha) and marries her, but the marriage goes sour. Natasha openly cheats on Andrei and abuses the servants. She manipulates and bullies the sisters. Andrei, for his part, escapes through gambling, which leads to him mortgaging the property and thus preventing the sisters from selling it and moving back to Moscow.

Olga works as a school teacher, but hates the job. However, the need to make a living means she has to stay on. She regrets not marrying when she had the chance.

Masha has married a teacher, but the bloom has come off that rose as well. He isn’t particularly smart or good looking, and she is bored. He is a good man, however, and one of the truly sympathetic characters in the play.

Irina starts the play with optimism, but this is eventually beaten out of her by life. She works first as a switchboard operator and later as a clerk for the city counsel.

The only bright side of their lives is the presence of a regiment of soldiers, who themselves represent the intellectual stimulation of outsiders from the great world beyond.

Masha is swept off her feet by the commander, Vershinin, who is married to a mentally ill woman. They have an affair which makes Masha happy for a time, but she is heartbroken when the soldiers are deployed elsewhere.

Irina becomes engaged to Baron Tuzenbach, who she does not love, in large part because he represents a ticket out of her boring life.

There are some fascinating themes in this play. The first is the idea of “Moscow.” As I noted above, Moscow isn’t so much a literal place as the embodiment of the hopes and dreams of the sisters. It is the glorious Utopia that awaits them, if they only can managed to find a way there. We all have our “Moscow” in some way, though. Sometimes it is more literal than others, but we all have some idea of a move, a change, a growth, that will make things better.

One thing that particularly hit home was a line (and I can’t give you direct quotes) to the effect that “there are 100,000 people here, but they are all alike.” This goes with Andrei’s lament that when he was in Moscow, he didn’t know anyone, but felt like he belonged; whereas in the (unnamed) town, he knows everyone but feels desperately alone. Irina feels that she is becoming stupider the longer she stays. She used to be fluent in multiple languages, but she is losing her skill with nobody to talk to.

I can kind of sympathize. It has been a rough couple of years to live in Bakersfield. We are, as many have pointed out, the “Texas of California,” with a low average education level, high poverty, and, well, a lot of people with Truck Nutz and Confederate Battle Flags as their aesthetic. But this is an oversimplification. We also have a vibrant arts, music, and theater community, and plenty who are not dragging their knuckles and panting after an orange sociopath. I guess it was a bit ironic to be reminded of the frustrations of living in Bakersfield...while attending an outstanding dramatical production along with several friends who are intelligent, well informed, and thoroughly decent people.

That is the problem with our “Moscows.” As Vershinin notes, Moscow mostly looks attractive when you are not there. Once you actually go there, the shine comes off that too, and you are left with your former problems. Wherever you go, there you still are. Chekhov plays these two ideas off each other throughout the entire play. When we place the source of our happiness outside ourselves, we are bound to be disappointed. When we live in the past and the “if-onlys,” we will be unable to make beauty and happiness in the present.

Related to this theme is that of the future. The future is its own “Moscow.” The characters talk at length at various points in the play about the future and its meaning for those alive now. What will life be like in 200 years? Some characters think it will be glorious, while others believe that all the technology and progress won’t change what life feels like - it will be largely the same. In 200 years, will anyone remember us? Probably not, at least for most of us. I know a little about my ancestors on one branch that far back. Which is cool, but I don’t know them in any real sense. They are history, not memory. On the other hand, what will history do with the collective “we”? Will we be remembered with contempt, or with admiration? Chekhov makes both arguments. Will we end up making life better for our descendants? Or worse? (It’s early, but there are good signs that the Baby Boomers are not going to be remembered fondly…)

And then, the ultimate question: what is the point of all this suffering and unhappiness? Will we ever know? In fact, the play ends with this question, with the sisters begging the fates, as it were, to reveal these secrets.

As usual, The Empty Space put on an outstanding production. I have commended them time and again for their commitment to their particular approach to the theater: intimate space, low budgets and correspondingly affordable tickets, high artistic values, and a broad range of repertoire.

The three sisters were excellently cast. Cody Ganger is the daughter of long-time (and now retired) BC professor Randy Messick (also in this play as the drunken doctor, Chebutykin), and has been a favorite actor of mine for a number of years. Of particular note was the chemistry she showed as Kate in The Taming of the Shrew with her husband Kevin, which made a rather sexist play seem more like a tongue-in-cheek inside joke between lovers. Ganger directed Three Sisters, and was thrust into the role of Olga after the original lead had to back out. I was not disappointed with Ganger, who brought a pathos and gravity to the role of the oldest sister - the one who has always held everything together. 

 Olga (Cody Ganger), Irina (Brittany Beaver), and Masha (Mariah Jordan)

I don’t remember seeing Mariah Jordan in anything before, but she has appeared in a few I haven’t seen locally. As the middle sister, Masha, she was outstanding. There was real electricity in her scenes, particularly her passionate romance with Vershinin - very uncomfortable chemistry, both because this is an adulterous relationship, and because Rikk Cheshire is significantly older than her. I will be adding Jordan to my list of local actors I wish to watch. I am also pleased to see she teaches locally. That so many local thespians are passing their craft on to a new generation does my heart good.

As the younger sister, Brittany Beaver was one of the younger cast members. She is just a college student at this point, but she is showing definite signs of growth as an actor. I last saw her in Of Mice and Men, and she was competent, but a bit green. This part gave her a wider emotional range to play, and I thought she did quite well. And, more than anything, the three sisters had outstanding chemistry - the sisterhood was thoroughly believable. 

 Dr. Chebutykin (Randy Messick)

There were a number of the “the usual suspects” in this play, from Ryan Lee as a brooding Solyony, Carlos Vera in yet another small part (and playing piano!), Randy Messick looking good at whatever he does, Carolyn Fox filling in with another small part, Nolan Long as the frustrated and weak Andrei, and Shelbe McClain as the insecure and vindictive Natasha. (Last seen in BC’s Hamlet, McClain is best suited to small venues - her voice isn’t big enough to fill the outdoors, but she is compelling up close.) 

 Natasha (Shelbe McClain) and Andrei (Nolan Long)

I hadn’t seen Rikk Cheshire in a production before, but he was solid in his role, a role awkward on several levels. Obviously the adultery, but also the age difference, which our modern sensibilities see differently than Chekhov might have.

 Vershinin (Rikk Cheshire) and Masha (Mariah Jordan)

Two additional roles merit specific mention. Newcomer (to the Empty Space) Matthew Prewitt really shined as Baron Tuzenbach. Although he is pretty young, and the role probably was envisioned as older, he made the Baron into a sympathetic character. In addition, he played piano AND guitar at various times - and can play while carrying on a conversation (in the play) and acting with his body. Like his character, he isn’t much to look at (in the conventional sense) - he’s shortish and waifishly thin - but compelling as an actor. I hope he gets more parts in the future. 

Baron Tuzenbach (Matthew Prewett)

The one I really want to discuss, though, is Karl Wade in the role of Kulygin, Masha’s unfortunate husband. It cannot be easy to play the role of the cuckold in any case. But to play one who is a bit of a punchline, wearing a ludicrous mustache at first, then getting grief for shaving it, has to be a tough job indeed. And also to be the cuckold who goes from being oblivious to the affair to taking your wife back with “no questions asked” - and somehow not be laughable but genuinely sympathetic and noble - that is a feat indeed. Particularly since Kulygin is pedantic and condescending to Masha, and certainly not a naturally likeable character as written. Wade is physically perfect for the role. A bit overweight, and, like me, far from a heartthrob. A bit goofy, but sincere. It was so easy to see why Masha would go for the tall, handsome (if slightly creepy) Vershinin over the mundane Kulygin. And also to realize that Kulygin doesn’t deserve this in a moral sense, yet it seems inevitable that this would happen because of who he is. That is why when he takes the devastated Masha back, you just know she won’t be happy, and that this isn’t a good marriage. And yet, Kulygin is so good and sympathetic even while being ludicrous and boring and all, that you really wish that Masha could find it in herself to love him just a little. Karl Wade deserves an award for his work in this role. [Later note: I completely missed that Wade was in Every Good Boy Deserves Favour as the lunatic Ivanov.]

 Vershinin (Rikk Cheshire), Masha (Mariah Jordan), and Kulygin (Karl Wade)

There are a few “characters” which affect the action, despite never appearing on stage. Vershinin’s insane wife, for example, tries to kill herself, causing Vershinin to leave abruptly. And it is clear that Natasha is leaving for a tryst with her lover, but we never see him. Likewise, except for Andrei’s younger child (who probably isn’t his), who appears only as a sleeping infant, none of the children actually appear, despite their presence in the plot.

I wish I could remember all of the marvelous lines - it really is powerful when it comes to the philosophy, and the dialogue is quite witty. It might be worth buying Ruhl’s version just to re-read those moments. Chekhov is always witty and philosophical, but the translation can really enhance or detract from the experience. Ruhl’s version is definitely the former, and I highly recommend it.

Three Sisters also runs this upcoming weekend at the Empty Space. Locals will definitely want to check it out, and support local theater.

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I couldn’t figure out where to put it in the post, but I do have to mention the line where the anti-social Solyony says:

“When a man talks philosophy you get sophistry but when a woman talks philosophy, or God forbid two, you might as well pull my finger.”

This is one of the lines that gets either cut or bowdlerized in many translations. Yes, fart jokes are pretty much the same in any language or time in history. Even if some (say, my wife) don’t get the appeal.

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Just a note on the pictures: The Empty Space always has fantastic publicity photos on their Facebook site. One of my eldest daughter's classmates is one of their photographers, which is pretty cool. Anyway, while other theaters here in Bakersfield put on great productions, in most cases their publicity lags behind TES for publicity photography. Come on! This is the 21st Century! Put your photos online! 

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One more thing: I love Clint Black - great songwriter, solid guitarist. And this is IMO his best album.

This is one of my favorites of his cuts, and it sure fits with Moscow and our inability to escape ourselves...

Ivanov by Anton Chekhov

Source of book: I own this.

This is one of the few works I have read where I can honestly say that I disliked every single character. Every last one. Which, I suppose, is partially the point. The main character, Ivanov, hates everyone too, but most of all hates himself.

This play is the first of Chekhov’s dramas, and it feels a bit like a first effort. It has plenty of witty lines, some humor, and enough darkness for the most modern-minded critic. However, I found it a bit difficult to make out exactly what the author was trying to say.

On the one hand, the plot is simple and easy to follow. The basic flow of ideas is likewise comprehensible. On the other, Chekhov seems unsure of himself when it comes to deciding on the point he wishes to make. Perhaps this is related to the inherent unlikeability of the characters. It would have been helpful had even one of the characters felt sympathetic or recognizably human, and therefore allowed the reader to identify with someone, anyone.

I’m not saying that unpleasant characters are automatically unsympathetic. In The Brothers Karamazov, for example, part of the power of the characterization is that the reader can see his or her worst self in Dmitri, Ivan, or Smerdyakov. Each of these characters has a passion or motivation that feels real and human – something that just seems lacking in Ivanov.

The basic outline of the plot is thus: Ivanov is a nobleman who married a Jewess who was subsequently disinherited by her family. Ivanov is in debt, his wife is dying of tuberculosis, and he has lost his appetite for life and love. In an effort at escapism, he either seduces or is seduced by the young daughter of a friend. After his wife dies, he is set to marry the young lady, but instead kills himself. Ivanov’s behavior throughout the play is despicable, but Chekhov seems to treat him as the hero, or at least the protagonist.

In contrast to Ivanov is the young doctor, Lvov, who is an unbearably self-righteous prig. He is continually reminding everyone of how “honest” he is, and considers it his life’s mission to unmask Ivanov. (This is ludicrous, if for no other reason, than that everyone already knows about Ivanov.) If Ivanov (or someone else) were sympathetic, then it would make sense for Lvov to be the villain. The play could then be about hypocrisy. Or it could be about not judging without knowing all the facts.

Another alternative interpretation is that the play could be about Ivanov’s loss of vitality. His lament in Act III is a good representative of the various renditions of that theme, as stated by Ivanov and other characters:

IVANOV: I’m just a nasty, miserable nobody. Only another pathetic, bedraggled wreck like Paul could to on liking and respecting me. God, how I despise myself. How I loathe my own voice, footsteps, hands – these clothes, my thoughts. Pretty ridiculous, isn’t it? And pretty mortifying. Less than a year ago I was strong and well, I was cheerful, tireless, and dynamic. I worked with my hands. My eloquence moved even ignorant louts to tears, I could weep when I saw unhappiness and protest when I met evil. I knew what inspiration meant, I knew the charm and magic of quiet nights when you sit at your desk from dusk to dawn or indulge in flights of fancy. I had faith, I looked at the future as a child looks into its mother’s eyes. But now, oh God! I’m worn out, I’ve no faith, I spend days and nights doing nothing. My brain doesn’t obey me, nor do my arms and legs. The estate’s going to rack and ruin, the woods fall before the ax. [Weeps.] My land seems to look at me like a lost child. There’s nothing I hope or care about, and my spirit quails in fear of the morrow. Then there’s Sarah. I swore to love here for ever, told her how happy we’d be, offered her a future beyond her wildest dreams. She believed me. These five years I’ve watched her giving way beneath the weight of her own sacrifices and wilting in the struggle with her conscience, but God knows she’s never looked askance at me or uttered one reproach. What then? I stopped loving her. How? Why? What for? I can’t understand. Now she’s unhappy and her days are numbered. And I’m low and cowardly enough to run away from her pale face, sunken chest, and pleading eyes. How shameful. [Pause.] Little Sasha’s touched by my misfortunes and tells me, at my age, that she loves me. It goes to my head, so I can’t think of anything else. I’m spellbound, it’s music in my ears. So I start shouting about being born again and being happy. But next day I believe in this new life and happiness about as much as I do in fairies. What’s the matter with me? What depths have I sunk to? Where does my weakness come from? What’s happened to my nerves? If my sick wife touches me on the raw, or a servant does something wrong, or my gun misfires – then I’m rude, bad-tempered and quite beside myself. [Pause.] I just don’t understand. I might as well shoot myself and be done with it.

In true Russian fashion, Ivanov may say all of these things about himself, but he cannot stand to hear others say them about him. Thus, when Lvov confronts him soon afterward, he complains that he is being insulted.

Ivanov himself cannot figure out what has happened to him. He vehemently assets that he loved Sarah once, and now does not, for reasons he doesn’t understand. The accusation that he married Sarah for her money (which was then denied her) infuriates him, but it is impossible to know what the truth really was at the time.

While this potential theme is interesting, Chekhov never really gives an explanation of what caused Ivanov’s decline. Ivanov thinks he has overloaded himself with responsibilities, and that he eventually broke his figurative back. However, Ivanov is hardly a reliable explainer of anything, and all we have is his own word.

I suspect I will need to mull over the play for a while before drawing any firm conclusions. Perhaps that is what Chekhov intended.

Some other themes warrant mention. The play opens and closes with music and firearms. Ivanov’s wife Sarah is a musician, and the music stops with her death between acts III and IV. Firearms are everywhere, from the opening scene where a brandished shotgun precedes the first words of dialogue, to the final suicide. Guns are strategically placed throughout the scenes, even when they are not actually involved in the action.

Many of the characters also lament the sorry state of young men.

LEBEDEV: …No offence meant, but young men are a pretty spineless, wishy-washy crew nowadays. God help them. Can’t dance, can’t talk, can’t drink properly.

Chekhov also takes aim at doctors while giving a backhanded dig at lawyers. Shabelsky is the loose cannon – both comic relief, and the one person able to say what others are only thinking.

SHABELSKY: Doctors are like lawyers, only lawyers just rob you, while doctors rob you and murder you as well.

And later:

SHABELSKY: …I’ve never trusted doctors, lawyers, or women in my life, it’s all stuff and nonsense, quackery and jiggery-pokery.

Of course, there is an extra layer of irony here: Chekhov was a physician as well as an author.

The drunken Lebedev, who is pretty much Ivanov’s sole friend (apart from Sasha, at least) does his best to console Ivanov, but can’t avoid making a muddle of it. He attempts a profound statement about life, which doesn’t quite work.

LEBEDEV: A man’s like a samovar, old boy. He doesn’t always stand on a cold shelf, there are times when he gets stoked up and starts fairly seething. The comparison’s no damn good, but I can’t think of anything better.

The best aphorism, however, belongs to Borkin, who manages Ivanov’s estate, but is always coming up with get-rich-quick schemes. He comes up with a simile so pessimistic, it incites a laugh.

BORKIN: [sighing.] Our life - . Man’s life is like a bright flower blooming in a meadow. A goat comes along and eats it up. No more flower.

So maybe, after all, this is the theme of the play, spoken by one of many fools. It is a theme that has run through literature, ancient and modern. From Ecclesiastes:

“Meaningless! Meaningless!”
    says the Teacher.
“Utterly meaningless!
    Everything is meaningless.”

To Shakespeare:

To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player,
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,
And then is heard no more. It is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.

All the intentions and actions of the characters, good or evil, are ultimately meaningless. In the end, tragedy carries the day, and everyone becomes or remains profoundly unhappy. The flower that was has been eaten by the goat.

Note on the translation: I read the translation by Ronald Hingley, which is generally well regarded. It is occasionally criticized for being more “British” than “American” in idiom, but to this Anglophile, that is not a real drawback. I have also heard good things about Paul Schmidt’s translation. I found Hingley’s version to be vastly superior to the unattributed (but obviously older) version available from Project Gutenberg. Hingley captured a certain poetry and vitality completely missing from the rather dry free version. Since Hingley’s and Schmidt’s translations are readily available for a reasonable price, I would recommend going with one or the other.