Editor's Note: ALL performances of this show have sold out.
Chekhov’s The Seagull was the first play I ever loved. As a graduate student in the playwriting major at Yale Drama School, I read and reread it countless times, looking not only for clues to dramatic form but also for the play’s wisdom on the challenges of being a theater artist — the thrills, of course, but also the disappointments, the rivalries, the jealousies, the threat of failure. Years later, I lost some of my enthusiasm for Chekhov — too dismissive, I thought, of the possibilities of real joy in life — but my feelings for The Seagull never waned. Like any first love, it remained a touchstone in my interior life, something unique and ever-relevant.
Stupid Fucking Bird$24. Through Mar. 13. 8 p.m. Wed.-Sat., 8 p.m.; Sun., 2 p.m. Urbanite Theatre, 1487 Second St., Sarasota. 941-321-1397
Then recently I heard about Stupid Fucking Bird, Aaron Posner’s updated version of my beloved play, and naturally I felt some trepidation. Would Posner violate this lovely drama? Would he transform it, as his title suggested, into something more appropriate for our vulgar Trumpian age? Well, now I’ve seen the terrific production at Sarasota’s Urbanite Theatre, and I can tell you, I had nothing to worry about. Posner manages to cleave closely to Chekhov’s plot, maintain all key relationships, and furnish an Americanized language — including a mighty helping of expletives — with no loss of delight. Yes, there’s little of Chekhov’s lyricism in Posner’s dialogue, but there’s so much else of what made the original great, the latter version comes across as an ingenious, intrepid tribute. I had a wonderful time.
I think I’m in love again.
For those who had other amours, a summary: Bird, like The Seagull, takes place on a country estate where a bunch of artists, wannabe artists, and civilians are gathered for love and conversation. There’s Emma, a famous actress, Doyle, her celebrated novelist lover, Con, her aspiring playwright son, and Sorn, her doctor brother (Posner’s combination of the Chekhov characters Sorin and Dorn). There’s also Mash, in love fruitlessly with Con; Dev, in love unsuccessfully with Mash; and not least of all, Nina, a neighbor girl with whom Con is infatuated and who is just starting out as an actress. The plot mostly revolves around Con’s love/hate relationship with his celebrity mom, and Nina’s starstruck seduction (she doesn’t fully know it’s that) of Doyle. Besides getting to know some fascinating characters, we watch several romances play out, and hear a lot about the contemporary art of theater (including the truth that cash-strapped theaters today consider a cast of six characters “large”).
"One of the most powerful moments I’ve witnessed on stage anywhere."
But Posner doesn’t stop there: He also uses Bird as an exercise in meta-theater, with characters entering into conversation with audience members, admitting they’re only characters, even complaining about a lack of catharsis. Many of the personages offer monologues of self-explanation, and Nina’s seduction of Doyle includes a semi-nude scene that would have been unthinkable in Chekhov’s day. Happily, the Urbanite cast handles it all with remarkable success. Consider radiant Tess Hogan, back on stage after too long an absence, as diva Emma, a narcissist who’s worried that the presence of her grown son makes her look old. The scene in which Hogan’s Emma confronts her about-to-stray lover Doyle is absolutely scorching, one of the most powerful moments I’ve witnessed on stage anywhere.
As Doyle, Harry Lipstein is smug, somewhat inscrutable, likable but still suspicious; as Nina, the woman who’s tempting him to stray, Cindy de la Cruz is both naïve and resolute, easily dropping incipient artist Con for the real thing in famous Doyle. Poor Con — Joseph McGranaghan in a strong performance — is a fiery denouncer of outdated art, a guileless lover of Nina and the image of despair when his girlfriend starts making eyes at another man. Zak Wilson as Dev, Summer Dawn Wallace as Mash, and Dan Higgs as Sorn all offer fine performances as well. Vincent Carlson-Brown directs muscularly, allowing his actors to leave the theater building at times, or to climb up into the audience. Becki Leigh’s fine costumes include Doyle’s jaunty sports coat over a black tee-shirt, as well as the removable night things worn by all in the interrupted seduction scene. John C. Reynold’s mostly bare set includes a portrait of a seagull in Act One, and a kitchenette in Act Two.
Add a few songs by a few characters, accompanying themselves on ukulele, and you get a pageant that Chekhov never imagined but for which he still deserves credit. That is to say, Posner’s updating works because Chekhov’s themes are timeless: the dangers of a life in the arts, the dangers of love, the dangers of family. And, in keeping with the master’s original, there’s even one bloody seagull.
What more could you want?
This article appears in Mar 3-9, 2016.