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Uncle Vanya

Reviewed by Bob Verini

Chalk Repertory Theatre at the Neutra Institute Museum

Through March 15

On a stage — and as often as not, in everyday life, but certainly on a stage — when a character announces, “I’m dying of boredom,” there’s always something else, something deeper going on. With those four spoken words, a character can communicate almost anything: “I’m hot to do something exciting; what can you suggest?” or “You disgust me and I can’t wait until you’re out of my presence,” or even “I would love it if you’d undress me and pitch mad, passionate love.” But whatever the message, notice that in each case the sentiment is outer-directed – that is, the speaker’s using words for the purpose of affecting or influencing or stimulating someone else.

The technical term for the sentiment-unsaid is “subtext,” and the rule of thumb in acting is that the actor should make the most active, engaged, making-something-happen choice possible in which to couch his subtextual message. The one thing one must absolutely not do, however, is just use “I’m dying of boredom” to communicate how bored he is, because then there’s nothing dramatic going on.

It’s a lesson that, on the evidence of Chalk Repertory Theatre’s Uncle Vanya, has not yet taken root in director Larissa Kokernot or her players. This moribund revival might have been inspired by Ayn Rand in its insistence that every A is A, that each line means exactly what it denotes and no more.

A dearth of subtext is particularly fatal to Chekhov, whose characters are always engaging in everyday banalities in order to communicate richer, more ambivalent feelings. (The only major playwright to whom it’s more deadly is Beckett.) The announcement “I’m exhausted” had better mean “I’m on fire!” because there’s nothing less interesting than tired characters standing around announcing how tired they are.

Which brings us back to the Neutra Institute — the museum venue housing Chalk’s production — where the confession of Dr. Astrov (Owiso Odera) that “I don’t like people. I haven’t loved anyone for some time,” inspires in the spectator nothing more than stares, because he’s saying it to no purpose that we can see. In Act III, Astrov has a famous long speech about the local maps he has painstakingly crafted, a speech delivered to Yelena (Hilary Ward), the married woman he suspects he may be in love with. There are many things he can say to her, and for our benefit, through his detailed cartographic descriptions: ”I really am an artist; please admire my accomplishments”; “I am not a failure”; “Love me, I adore you”; or “Here is the real Russia as I see it.” Yet Kokernot and Odera actually seem to think we are interested in, and need to follow, what he’s literally and factually saying about the terrain and the damn maps. Talk about tired.

Because most everyone at this dacha is saying exactly what he or she means, the characters give the impression of wearing their emotions on their sleeves. This is particularly problematic for Uncle Vanya (Andrew Borba), here played as a self-pitying kvetch from beginning to end with no levels or variety to his self-loathing.

The staging is similarly square and inexpressive. In Act II, the sad, lonely Vanya is left alone for the first time with Yelena. Yes, he too thinks he’s in love with her, and moreover he despises her husband on whom he is financially dependent. For Yelena’s part, she’s clearly in a mood to open up and reveal her miseries.

Okay, students, here’s your quiz: You’re Vanya (or you’re directing Vanya); how will this loveless sad sack sit at the table in intimate conference with this woman he secretly adores?:

 (A) Face her directly and hang on every one of her complaints, searching her eyes for a sign that maybe, just maybe, she cares about him for real.

 (B) Sit in a respectable fashion, looking slightly away from her, but able to watch her discreetly as she describes her unhappiness.

 (C) Slouch with his back to her completely, evidently uninterested in her eyes, manner, or words.

If you’ve stayed with me this far, you won’t be surprised to hear that Borba and Kokernot have chosen (C), the hardest-to-justify option in terms of the character’s given circumstances and specifics; certainly it’s the one least likely to set off any sparks between Vanya and Yelena. How can Chekhovian behavior be so under-conceived, so character-illogical?

One other example out of, believe me, dozens: In Act III, when Yelena’s gouty, proud, egotistical professor husband (Richard Wharton) announces that he is thinking of unloading the estate, the enraged Vanya starts chasing him around the stage. Yes, this supposedly gout-ridden, infirm, academic — who clearly has the upper hand, emotionally and financially —is suddenly made to scamper around like a kid, terrified of his own employee. Hauteur, arrogance, advanced age and illness are all abandoned in favor of a corny and utterly illogical chase scene. “What are they thinking?” is the phrase that came to mind, again and again, as I watched one of my favorite Chekhov plays be systematically misunderstood and badly executed.

The one actor who gets it right — the one who seems to understand the need for subtext and character logic, smiling while her words register complaint or showing secret complicity when her words say she’s alienated — is Ruth Coughlin as Sonia. She is a pleasure to watch.

Chalk Repertory Theatre at the Neutra Institute Museum, 2379 Glendale Blvd., Silver Lake; Fri.-Sat., 8 p.m.; Sun., 7 p.m. (Sun. March 8 at 8 p.m.); through March 15. Chalkrep.com.