There are so many things going on in Christopher Durang’s funny Vanya and Sonia and Masha and Spike, I can’t honestly claim that the play is altogether coherent. Yes, Durang mostly seems to be updating Chekhov’s Uncle Vanya, but there are references here also to The Seagull, Three Sisters, and The Cherry Orchard, and there are some important plot developments, like a costume party and one character’s long anti-contemporary-culture rant, that don’t have anything to do with any Chekhov play in existence.
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One of the comedy’s wildest characters — with only the slightest Chekhov parallel — is a young Narcissus who’s constantly taking off most of his clothes, and there’s a cleaning woman named Cassandra who’s clearly a send-up of ancient Greek tragedy. So let’s call it postmodern — or eclectic or scattered — and then let’s sit back and enjoy what is, for the most part, an enjoyable ride. If it doesn’t fully add up, still it’s inventive and unpredictable and on a few occasions hilarious. And amid of host of good performances, it features one that’s unforgettable.
That performance is Jamie Jones’s, as the body-flaunting Spike, a young would-be actor who’s having an affair with middle-aged movie star Masha (played with great élan by Elizabeth Fendrick). Jones, who is turning up more and more on area stages, plays Spike with an impressive synthesis of exaggeration and precision, thrusting his half-naked physique on any other character who dares look at him, and using even his most innocent entrances and exits as opportunities in which to strut his stuff. This is a shameless character shamelessly impersonated by Jones, and the laughter he earns is his by right. You say you know some buff characters who look for any chance to display their abs? Well, Jones’s Spike makes them all seem shrinking violets by comparison.
And speaking of comparisons, meet Vanya and Sonia, the two denizens of a comfortable pondfront house in Pennsylvania (an attractive set by Brian Smallheer). Like card-carrying Chekhovians, they feel they’ve wasted their lives and have nothing to hope for besides a succession of meaningless, pleasureless days to come. Vanya (winningly portrayed by a bearded Brian Shea) is gay but apparently has never had a lover, while his adopted sister Sonia (the aptly melancholy Roz Potenza) deeply regrets never having married, and calls out “I’m a wild turkey” from time to time, with no particular provocation. It’s what happens to these sorry siblings when their wealthy sister Masha visits that sets the plot of Vanya in motion, so I should add that it’s Masha who’s been paying their bills all these years, and it’s Masha who informs them that she’s finally decided to sell their house. What Masha didn’t count on was romantic competition from a young neighbor named Nina (Emily Belvo at her hyper-sincere best) and the voodoo (that’s right) interference of the cross-culturally resourceful Cassandra (the consistently amusing Jonelle Meyer). The plot takes a strange turn when everyone goes to the costume party, Masha dressed (by costumer Brittany Ruether) as Snow White — I have no idea why — and the others as figures from the same Disney classic. And by the end of the play there are some real solutions to the dramatic problems posed in the first act, though most of them seem arbitrary and even hopeful, odd for a Chekhov takeoff. Is Durang insisting on a happy ending?
The question is complicated by what is surely the dramatic pivot of the latter part of Act Two, a long harangue by Vanya against contemporary trends in 21st century culture. This tirade, performed brilliantly by Shea, gets so much stage time it eventually departs from the plot entirely and becomes a monologue unto itself, a passionate attack on cellphones, video games, and cable TV, and a nostalgic defense of the ’50s and ’60s, when we all supposedly benefited from the wonderful world of three networks and their splendid, peerless, prime-time programs. This speech is so bizarre (can gay Durang have gay Vanya regret the passing of the homophobic ’50s?), I can’t begin to understand what it’s doing here. Suffice to say, for all its energy, it’s not the least bit persuasive. Well, all right, some video games are amoral. But were things better in the buttoned-up days of Ozzie and Harriet?
You figure it out — I can’t. What I can say is that Vanya is a farce that, finally coherent or not, has lots to offer. And the fine Jobsite production, directed perfectly by Paul Potenza, offers a top cast and impeccable design. It’s certainly the funniest show of the year so far.
Maybe that’s enough.
Wondering what the stars mean? Here’s how Mark E. Leib assigns ratings.
This article appears in Feb 25 – Mar 2, 2016.
