The Seagull is a play that reminds us there is always something to be miserable about. Lives are wasted, love is frustrated, and art can feel impotent at times of global crisis. But for all its indulgent misery – and perhaps because of it – Chekhov referred to this work as a comedy. In a sleek new adaptation at the Barbican, avant-garde German director Thomas Ostermeier and adaptor Duncan Macmillan have skilfully put together a show that walks the line between these tonal and generic differences: tragedy is counterbalanced by comedy; folk rock songs drive out tears; outrageous self-satire exists alongside suicidal impulses.
Ostermeier achieves this directorial balancing act by handing over the reins to the actors and leaning into their quirky sensibilities. Cate Blanchett stars as the diva actress Irina Arkádina, who engages in outrageous feats of attention-seeking – expect tap dance, Bob Marley renditions, and the splits – and relies on the constant affections of her wearying lover, Alexander Trigorin (Tom Burke). Her son Konstantin (Kodi Smit-McPhee), an aspiring playwright, treats her with Hamletian disdain and rails against her orthodox approach to theatre making. He’s in love with neighbour Nina Zaréchnaya (Emma Corrin), who desperately dreams of fame and a fulfilling career as a performer. With all these hopeless romantic attachments, there’s a lot of ‘basking in indifference,’ as one character wryly puts it.
The Barbican’s expansive stage is ingeniously used to create alienation by set designer Magda Willi. A thick cluster of reeds fills the centre through which actors emerge and disappear throughout the show, mirroring the ways in which Chekhov’s self-absorbed characters retreat into themselves emotionally. The audience, thus kept at a remove, only apprehends what they really feel glancingly, or in confessional moments using the voguish on-stage microphone. Konstantin uses it to unleash his disdain for Gen X and their cultural dominance, whereas for gloomy Masha Shamrayev (Tanya Reynolds) it amplifies her oft-silenced voice as she movingly confesses her need for psychological help after agreeing to a loveless marriage in the face of unrequited love from Konstantin.
Unsurprisingly, given Ostermeier’s status as an edgy, rockstar director, music also has its part to play, articulating all the characters cannot or will not say. Zachary Hart, playing pining factory worker Simon Medvedenk who is enamoured with the cooly indifferent Masha, introduces the two halves of the play with Billy Bragg songs full of yearning on his electric guitar. It is stunningly complemented by Bruno Poet’s lighting, made of intense, spasmodic flashes of darkness and light, echoing the contrasting moods of the play, while giving this production the feeling of a rock concert.
Where Ostermeier’s production dissatisfies, however, is in its failure to channel Chekhov’s reverence for mankind’s endurance in adversity. Despite excellent acting throughout, these characters never really convince us of their heroic stamina to survive. The audience is made to see them too readily drowning in their own pity and egotism – quite literally at the end as heavy rain falls. The overwhelming note is defeat. As such, this show is akin to slowly nursing a glass of vodka – it’s cool, bitter, and leaves you feeling a little blue the next morning.
Nevertheless, The Seagull at the Barbican is genuinely faithful to Chekhov’s apprehension of the muted poetry of life lived and anguish experienced. Tennessee Williams once remarked that ‘Chekhov was a quiet and delicate writer whose huge power was held in restraint’. This director turns up the amp and makes us hear the gulls cry.
The Seagull
By Anton Chekhov
Directed by Thomas Ostermeier
Adapted by Duncan Macmillan and Thomas Ostermeier
Photo credits: Marc Brenner
Cast includes: Cate Blanchett; Tom Burke; Paul Bazely; Priyanga Burford; Emma Corrin; Zachary Hart; Paul Higgins; Tanya Reynolds; Kodi Smit-McPhee; Jason Watkins.
Until: Saturday 5th April 2025
Running Time: 3 hours including an interval