logo
My Life With Uncle Vanya, the Self-Pitying Sad Sack We Can't Quit

My Life With Uncle Vanya, the Self-Pitying Sad Sack We Can't Quit

New York Times28-04-2025

Why can't we ever get enough of Uncle Vanya?
What is it about Anton Chekhov's incessantly complaining, self-pitying sad sack that makes him return anew to the theater more than any other dramatic protagonist maybe short of Hamlet, that other great melancholy inaction hero?
The question has grown more pressing in the last two years, since there have been four new revivals of 'Uncle Vanya' in New York alone and another starring Hugh Bonneville that finished an acclaimed run at Shakespeare Theater in Washington earlier this month.
Last year, the playwright Jon Robin Baitz argued that the play was in vogue partly because it was a 'study of post-Covid paralysis.' But 'Uncle Vanya' is always in fashion. I have seen 15 different versions in the last three decades, and I have come to believe that its enduring popularity is because of its flexibility.
The old argument about whether 'Uncle Vanya' — which follows a series of emotional disasters that occur on a Russian country estate run by Vanya and his niece, Sonya — is a comedy or a tragedy misses the point. There's no one right way to perform it. I've seen it done funny and gloomy, cerebral and physical, small scale and broadly theatrical. What's most remarkable about the play is how it can sustain so many different approaches and still move audiences.
Look at the actors who have played the title character in the past year. There's a world of difference between Andrew Scott, the star of the series 'Ripley,' and the comedian Steve Carell; between the defeated, passive man played by the Tony-winning theater director David Cromer and the aggressively cranky Bob Laine from the Brooklyn adaptation by the 'Dimes Square' playwright Matthew Gasda.
'Uncle Vanya' is to ambitious middle-aged actors what 'King Lear' is to older ones: a challenge and a mark of credibility. It's common practice to reimagine the plays of Shakespeare, shifting them into a different place and time. Chekhov's work can just as easily be transported from 19th-century Russia to a contemporary West Virginia or Ireland without strain. Its nimbleness has become especially apparent to me over the years. 'Uncle Vanya' ages well because it changes with age.
The most unsettling moment in three decades of watching this play was during the first act of a whispery 2023 production in a downtown Manhattan loft lit by candlelight. As Vanya, Cromer, who directed two shows currently on Broadway, 'Dead Outlaw' and 'Good Night, and Good Luck,' was bemoaning how he has wasted his life. I'd seen this speech many times, but this one hit differently. Because while he wailed about his lost years, I realized, Oh, no, I am the same age as Vanya.
I am tempted to go on a long tangent about how 47 in Russia more than a century ago was much older than it is now. But instead, a confession: The first time I met Vanya was when I was a teenager and he seemed like an extremely old and clownish bore. Now that I am his age, he comes off more sympathetic. Funny how that happens.
His obsession with lost chances, the way he transforms thwarted ambition into simmering resentments that emerge as smirking mockery, his delusion about the writer he could have been — I recognize parts of myself here. When Vanya moans, 'I could have been a Dostoyevsky,' it used to seem absurd. Now I get it.
The Vanya of my mind's eye, the face that pops to mind when he's evoked, is Wallace Shawn, who starred in the film version, 'Vanya on 42nd St.' It began with a superb cast featuring Larry Pine and Julianne Moore coming to work in street clothes, a fourth wall-busting gesture that has become fashionable if not clichéd. You see it in the Bonneville 'Uncle Vanya' as well as to a lesser degree in the revival with Scott, who begins by turning on the lights, making a cup of tea and adjusting the set. In contrast to those revivals, Shawn's Vanya had an unusual gravitas, a mature weariness and slow burn, his gripes more potent because you could tell he was holding back.
The drama critic Kenneth Tynan called Vanya one 'of the least playable heroes in dramatic literature' because he is so hard to take seriously. But if we don't take him seriously, Tynan argued, the play falls apart. It's the kind of categorical statement that critics and scholars, not to mention artists, often make about Chekhov. My mother's college acting teacher insisted that Vanya must be played as suffering from hemorrhoids (a conviction unsupported by the script).
But consider the miraculous work being done by Scott, playing all the roles through quick-changing physicality. He plays Vanya as a man stuck in arrested development, walking onstage in sunglasses, larking around with a plastic device that plays comic sounds like wolf whistles or a recorded laugh track. He is easy to see as ridiculous (as is this show, which includes a smoldering sex scene between a man and a door). Yet the production, powered by the charisma and Scott's bold choices, holds together.
The plot of 'Uncle Vanya' is spurred by a visit from Sonya's father, the ex-husband of Vanya's sister, and Yelena, his bored second wife, whose beauty distracts all the men around her.
I've attended the last few productions of 'Uncle Vanya' with my teenage daughter, and seeing the play through her eyes clarified how Vanya need not be central to a production. The play can be relatable to young audiences and old, women as well as men. The title itself, 'Uncle Vanya,' invites you to consider young Sonya's perspective. She quietly harbored a crush on the environmentalist Doctor Astrov for six years, until finally Yelena offers to act as an intermediary to learn his true feelings for her.
People have long complained that nothing happens in 'Uncle Vanya' — Tolstoy told an actor, 'it doesn't go anywhere' — but the high-stakes romantic move by Sonya and Yelena is not just a nerve-racking story line. It's a central narrative of middle-school recess.
In a revelatory performance in a Sydney Theater production in 2012, a dancing and pratfalling Cate Blanchett proved that 'Uncle Vanya' could be as lively and funny as it is morose — and made a case that Yelena was its catalytic main character.
But in the new spate of modern productions, 'Uncle Vanya' seems like Sonya's play. She has the standard pathologies of the Instagram era: hyper alert to her physical flaws; deathly insecure; and holding on to the time she overheard someone gossiping about her.
Her relationship with Vanya also underlines another element of the play: Vanya as father figure. He has rubbed off on her, and not in the best ways. Sonya can be competitive about who is more unhappy.
The most memorable performances from this play have been from actresses playing this role. In my favorite production of 'Uncle Vanya' — the recent National Theater revival starring Tony Jones — Amie Lou Wood (Chelsea on the recent season of 'The White Lotus) delivered a heartbreaking, lustful performance that emphasizes the line about the unattractiveness of her teeth. Melanie Field, in the Washington production, contorts her face into a grotesque mask of pain upon describing herself as 'plain.'
For the recent loft production in downtown Manhattan, Marin Ireland portrayed the most fully imagined Sonya I've seen. She makes you feel the pain of embarrassment, but also the excitement of plotting with Yelena, the conspiratorial high of a fleeting friendship. The optimism on her face makes you see that this play is not only about people constantly annoying each other, but also trying and failing to connect.
Seeing all these different versions of 'Uncle Vanya' makes clear that another reason artists and audiences keep returning to the play is it's as full of hope (doomed as it might be) as it is of frustration. This can be hard to see, because characters are constantly describing their misery, and quite flamboyantly. After all, one well-received modern adaptation is titled 'Life Sucks.'
From a certain view, Sonya and Vanya end the play in a place not unlike where they were at the start, minus a few illusions. The world presented here is bleak and unforgiving in ways that will be altogether familiar to an audience today, in ways that are personal, social and even environmental.
Sonya's resilient final speech — 'What can we do? We must live our lives.' — offers a narrow path forward, in work and the afterlife. But one doesn't need either to find solace in this famous last vignette. Vanya and Sonia have each other. In almost all the versions, she seems to keep going because of him. Sonia's last line, spoken next to Vanya, is imagining a better future: 'We shall rest.' The key word is 'we.'
It's worth recalling that the first time Chekhov tried this play, it was called 'The Wood Demon,' and he had the Vanya character kill himself. (It flopped.) When he reworked it, he let him live. Vanya made some moves toward killing himself, like stealing a bottle of morphine, but Sonia found him out and forced him to give it back.
It's one of the most important edits in the history of theater. Dying by suicide would not only have been darker (there goes the debate about comedy versus tragedy), but also less open to interpretation. Death is nothing if not conclusive. This play is about something more understandable to the living: failure.
Vanya tries and fails to get the girl, the career and the revenge he craves. He's so ineffectual that he can't even kill himself. It's pathetic and wonderful, depending how you look at it.

Orange background

Try Our AI Features

Explore what Daily8 AI can do for you:

Comments

No comments yet...

Related Articles

Putin's suspected daughter found working in anti-war galleries in Paris
Putin's suspected daughter found working in anti-war galleries in Paris

Yahoo

timean hour ago

  • Yahoo

Putin's suspected daughter found working in anti-war galleries in Paris

Nastya Rodionova, a Russian writer and artist who has been based in Paris since 2022, had only met gallery manager Luiza Rozova in passing at events before she learned who the 22-year-old's parents were. Described by a number of people as a 'very nice and well-mannered girl,' Rozova is the daughter of a Russian woman named Svetlana Krivonogikh — and, according to investigative journalists, Russian President Vladimir Putin. After learning about Rozova's family background, Rodionova took to social media on June 4 to share it, highlighting the fact that the galleries where Rozova works primarily showcase Russian and Ukrainian anti-war art. The post quickly went viral — but the reactions were divided. Some members of the Russian emigre community argued Rozova had no control over who her parents are and it shouldn't be held against her. Others agreed it was ethically questionable that a family member of the Kremlin leader worked in anti-war art galleries as Russia was waging war against Ukraine, and praised the artist for revealing it. 'We are talking about artists (showcased in the galleries) who fled the regime,' Rodionova told the Kyiv Independent. 'Many of them are in danger. They shared all their personal information with the gallery staff without knowing who works there — it upset them very much (to learn about her).' The Kyiv Independent reached out to Rozova for comment through her employer. He acknowledged that he had passed along the request for comment and 'if she considers it possible to answer' she would do so. As of publication, Rozova has not replied. In most of Rozova's photos that were posted on social media or taken by media outlets for interviews, her face is deliberately cropped or turned away — a subtle yet telling choice, which some believe is due to her uncanny resemblance to the Russian leader. In the few photos of Rozova where her face is fully visible, she does bear unmistakable resemblance to Putin. 'Listen, judging by (Putin's) younger photos — probably, yes, I do look like him. But as it turns out, there are actually a lot of people who resemble Vladimir Vladimirovich,' she told GQ Russia in 2021. In the interview, Rozova wasn't directly asked whether she was related to the Russian leader. Rozova first attracted international attention in 2020, when the independent Russian investigative outlet Proekt published an expose detailing the substantial wealth of her mother, Svetlana Krivonogikh, who at the time possessed over $100 million in assets. Proekt's investigation revealed Krivonogikh's longstanding ties to Putin and noted that her daughter Rozova 'bears an uncanny resemblance' to the Russian leader, fueling the widespread speculation about her parentage. In the rare instances that Rozova has granted media interviews since then, she has never outright acknowledged or denied that Putin is her father. Dmitri Dolinski — director of the L Association, which oversees both Studio Albatros and the L Galerie where Rozova is employed — confirmed to Rodionova that Rozova's mother is Krivonogikh, she said. Krivonogikh was sanctioned by the U.K. in 2023 due to her stake in Bank Rossiya, which has, among other things, supported investments in Russian-occupied Crimea following the illegal annexation of 2014. In her original viral social media post, the Russian artist Rodionova stressed the importance of Studio Albatros and L Galerie as cultural spaces showcasing Russian and Ukrainian anti-war artists — and why that made the presence of the Kremlin leader's alleged daughter there problematic. 'In the context of Russia's ongoing war of aggression, people organizing any public events involving anti-war artists — and in some cases direct victims of the regime — must act with maximum transparency and sensitivity,' Rodionova wrote. Rodionova previously participated in some gallery events but has chosen to no longer do so. 'We must know who we are working with and make informed decisions about whether we are okay with (exhibiting art there). My personal answer in this case is no.' Given the Russian and Ukrainian artists' outspoken anti-war positions, there is a potential risk associated with disclosing their personal information to L Association — particularly given the lack of clarity around Rozova's ties to the Russian regime. One artist who collaborated with the gallery had even welcomed Rozova into their home without knowing her family connections, Rodionova added. When Rodionova first asked about Rozova's background, Dolinski reportedly told her that he does not look into his employees' families. At the same time, Rodionova noted, it appears he hired Rozova while knowing who her mother was and the fact that her mother was already subject to U.K. sanctions. Amid the ongoing controversy, the L Association appears to be standing behind Rozova. 'We regret that some voices have called for forms of stigmatization or 'collective punishment,' and we remind everyone that no one should be judged by their origins, birthplace, heritage, or any other criteria beyond their control. This is a red line we will not cross,' the organization wrote on Facebook on June 9, although they didn't mention Rozova by name. In response to Rodionova's post, a number of Russian emigres argued in the comments that Rozova should not be held accountable for the crimes of her alleged father. They claimed she has made a public anti-war stance in social media — although her actual social media account is disputed — and pointed to her residence in Paris as evidence that she is unlikely part of Putin's close inner circle. The exact number of Putin's children remains unconfirmed. It's known that he has two daughters from his marriage to Lyudmila Putina, who he divorced in 2014. In 2024, the Russian investigative outlet Dossier Center reported that he also has two young sons with Alina Kabaeva, a former Olympic gymnast long rumored to be his partner. The two boys reportedly live in Putin's residence on Lake Valdai in northwestern Russia. Since coming forward with her revelation about Putin's alleged daughter Rozova, Rodionova told the Kyiv Independent that she has dealt not only with public slander but also threats made against her. 'I want to believe that these people have expressed their personal opinion but lots of messages were suspiciously similar,' she said, suggesting that there was an organized campaign of retaliation. Rodionova pushed back against those attacking her for raising questions about Rozova's parentage, arguing that they were distorting the reasons behind her decision. Regardless of Rozova's personal politics or the extent to which she has or hasn't benefited from the Russian regime, exiled artists like Rodionova emphasize that the ongoing dangers posed by Russia's full-scale war require extra caution and transparency when it comes to who is welcomed into anti-war cultural spaces. Read also: Controversial Russian literature prize sparks debate on separating culture from war crimes Hi there, it's Kate Tsurkan, thanks for reading this article. The story of Putin's alleged daughter working in anti-war art galleries in Paris is one of those crazy stories that make you realize culture and politics are never that far removed from each other, especially when it comes to Russia's war against Ukraine. I hope by reading this article you also reflected on questions of accountability, transparency, and trust during wartime. If you like reading this sort of material, please consider supporting us by becoming a paid member of the Kyiv Independent today. We've been working hard to bring you independent, locally-sourced news from Ukraine. Consider supporting the Kyiv Independent.

Harris Yulin, Emmy-Nominated Actor of ‘Scarface' and ‘Ozark,' Dies at 88
Harris Yulin, Emmy-Nominated Actor of ‘Scarface' and ‘Ozark,' Dies at 88

Yahoo

timean hour ago

  • Yahoo

Harris Yulin, Emmy-Nominated Actor of ‘Scarface' and ‘Ozark,' Dies at 88

Harris Yulin, a prolific Emmy-nominated actor whose career spanned more than five decades across film, television, and stage, died Tuesday of cardiac arrest in New York City. He was 88. The character actor's many films include 'Scarface,' 'Clear and Present Danger, and 'Training Day.' He also played Buddy Dieker on the Netflix series 'Ozark' from 2017 to 2018. He guested on 'Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt' and 'Buffy the Vampire Slayer' and was Emmy nominated in 1996 for a guest role on 'Frasier.' He made his film debut in 1970 in the black comedy 'End of the Road,' but landed his first featured role in Brian De Palma's 1983 'Scarface' as Mel Bernstein, a dirty narcotics cop. The actor was always memorable even in small parts, such as the New York judge in 'Ghostbusters II' who agrees to reverse murder charges for a pair of rampaging ghosts. Yulin was a well-respected theater actor, making New York debut in 1963 in 'Next Time I'll Sing to You' and first appeared on Broadway in the 1980s production of 'Watch on the Rhine.' He also starred in Broadway productions of 'The Diary of Anne Frank,' 'The Price,' and 'Hedda Gabler.' The actor was set to begin production on the MGM+ series 'American Classic,' opposite Kevin Kline and Laura Linney. Series co-creator Michael Hoffman told The Hollywood Reporter, 'Harris Yulin was very simply one of the greatest artists I have ever encountered.' Yulin was married to actress Gwen Welles Nashville from 1975 until her death in 1993 at age 42. He is survived by his second wife, actress Kristen Lowman, and his son-in-law Ted, nephew Martin and godchildren Marco and Lara. The post Harris Yulin, Emmy-Nominated Actor of 'Scarface' and 'Ozark,' Dies at 88 appeared first on TheWrap.

Fans are wearing bald caps to Pitbull shows. Miami rapper thanks his "baldies"
Fans are wearing bald caps to Pitbull shows. Miami rapper thanks his "baldies"

Axios

time2 hours ago

  • Axios

Fans are wearing bald caps to Pitbull shows. Miami rapper thanks his "baldies"

Ladies love him. Everyone wants to be him — bald head and all. Pitbull, the Miami native and club-rap superstar, is embracing a viral trend where fans show up to his concerts wearing bald caps and fake beards to copy his signature look. Why it matters: It's the latest iteration of the concert uniform, as the New York Times describes it, popularized by artists like Taylor Swift, Beyoncé and — historically — the late Florida singer Jimmy Buffett. Catch up quick: The social media-fueled phenomenon started after COVID-19 but has gone "to a whole other level" during Pitbull's current European tour, the rapper — real name: Armando Christian Pérez — told BBC News. The globe-trotting Cuban-American artist, nicknamed Mr. Worldwide, has always been a favorite target for fan imitation: His quotable lyrics ("Dale!"), nostalgic party anthems and trademark look have made his brand eternally durable. The latest: Masses of fans showed up to his London concert on Monday in full Pitbull regalia, turning the crowd into a "sea of nude latex," the Times reported. "To wander among the Pitbulls feels like Halloween night, if Halloween had only one costume option and it was Pitbull," Times reporter Callie Holtermann wrote. "I'm pretty sure every party shop in London is sold out of bald caps," a fan told the newspaper. Pitbull, ever the business man, even started selling a " Mr. 305 kit" with a bald cap and bowtie for $19.99. Outside the O2 Arena, fans told the Times that it was "one big inside joke" or "mob mentality" that motivated them to draw on fake mustaches with liquid eyeliner and cut up stockings to make bald caps. It resembled, per the Times, "one of the planet's largest and most haphazardly assembled drag shows." What they're saying: Pitbull told the BBC it's "an honor" and makes him "very happy" to have fans dress as him for his shows. "To be able to motivate and inspire them, and see that they feel that it's deeper than just music, like they're a part of a movement and have a purpose in what we got going on, that to me is priceless." The bottom line:"So to all the baldies, thank you, I appreciate you — and they're the baldies because we soar high like bald eagles."

DOWNLOAD THE APP

Get Started Now: Download the App

Ready to dive into the world of global news and events? Download our app today from your preferred app store and start exploring.
app-storeplay-store