Chuckling with Chekhov: it's all relative

Published on Sunday 25 April 2004 01:00

UNCLE VARICK

Royal Lyceum Theatre, Edinburgh

ANTON Chekhov’s reputation goes before him. His great turn-of-the-century dramas, The Seagull, Uncle Vanya, Three Sisters and The Cherry Orchard, established an image of Russia as a nation of neurotic impotents with suicidal tendencies.

So strong was this impression that by the 1930s, Russian drama had become popular shorthand for gloominess. "With love to lead the way/ I’ve found more clouds of grey/ than any Russian play could guarantee," wrote Ira Gershwin in ‘Not for Me’. Yet Chekhov, a man who started his career writing one-act farces, described The Seagull as "a comedy in four acts" and Uncle Vanya as nothing more ominous than "scenes from country life". At the very least, he’s a far richer playwright than the dour tag would imply. It would be wrong to think of him as some kind of misunderstood Ray Cooney, but equally wrong to regard him as a master of melancholy. He is a genius playwright and all life, happy and sad, is here.

If there’s one great insight that John Byrne brings in this transposition of Uncle Vanya to 1960s north-east Scotland, it’s that it’s a very funny play. It follows the form, if not the letter, of Chekhov’s original and brings to it a rare, comic zest.

It is set on the sleepy estate of Balinroich, where the owner, Sandy Sheridan (David Ashton), a suave pundit on the London media scene, is making a rare visit. This gives his brother-in-law, Varick (Brian Cox), an opportunity to vent his envious fury at what he sees as Sheridan’s fraudulent success, pretty young wife and all, while he, Varick, has been going to seed in the one corner of 1960s Britain that has yet to swing.

With Byrne’s characteristic linguistic flair and Cox’s more rarely seen comedic skills, Varick becomes a deadpan satirist, punching out stinging rants that are only a step away from out-and-out stand-up comedy. Tellingly, this does not demean the play.

By bringing a witty awareness to Varick and his dead-end job, thanklessly looking after an estate in which he has no personal investment, Cox and Byrne make his powerlessness only more poignant. A stocky man who moves with balletic grace, Cox delivers his lines with similar finesse.

He makes no attempt to hog the limelight, but even among a strong team of actors there’s no question who’s the most gifted performer.

As a result, we miss him when he’s not on, and the show is skewed to the light rather than the shade.

This slight imbalance is not helped by Isabel Brook giving a flat performance as Elaine, Sheridan’s glamorous English wife. Picture-perfect she might be, but she lacks the colour and interest to explain why both Varick and the ecologically-minded doctor (Richard Dillane) would fall so helplessly for her. It makes their lust look sleazy rather than irresistible.

The knock-on effect is to lessen the emotional impact of the sad story of Sheridan’s plain-faced daughter Shona (Madeleine Warrall) and her unrequited desire for the doctor. What was so devastating in the Peter Stein production of a few seasons ago, here seems merely unfortunate.

As for the adaptation to a Scottish setting, there’s something so intrinsically Russian about Uncle Vanya - and specifically pre-revolutionary Russia - that for all Byrne’s cheeky modifications it’s impossible to shake off the memory of the original play.

It isn’t only the curious lack of north-east accents on the stage that makes it hard to believe this is a play about Scotland. However much Byrne uses the scenario to poke provocative fun at the north-south power divide; however much the doctor’s concern for the environment of the Highlands rings true; and however much The Beatles’ Rubber Soul dominates the soundtrack, it is not a fully independent work.

The Swinging 60s might have been a revolution of sorts, but nothing on the scale of what was about to happen to Russia when Chekhov was writing. Uncle Varick, then, is like a refraction of Uncle Vanya, picking up newly illuminating details on the way but always connected to its source. But that should not be to diminish a production that is as enjoyable as it is headily ambitious.

Until May 8