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    Uncle Vanya (NHB Classic Plays)
    Uncle Vanya (NHB Classic Plays)
    Uncle Vanya (NHB Classic Plays)
    Ebook121 pages1 hour

    Uncle Vanya (NHB Classic Plays)

    By Anton Chekhov

    4/5

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    About this ebook

    In the heat of summer, Sonya and her Uncle Vanya while away their days on a crumbling estate deep in the countryside, visited occasionally by the only local doctor Astrov.
    However, when Sonya's father, Professor Serebryakov, suddenly returns with his restless, alluring, new wife, declaring his intention to sell the house, the polite façades crumble and long-repressed feelings start to emerge with devastating consequences.
    Olivier Award-winner Conor McPherson's stunning adaptation of Anton Chekhov's masterpiece, Uncle Vanya, is a portrayal of life at the turn of the twentieth century, full of tumultuous frustration, dark humour and hidden passions. It premiered at the Harold Pinter Theatre in London's West End in January 2020, directed by Ian Rickson.
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherNick Hern Books
    Release dateFeb 7, 2020
    ISBN9781788503129
    Uncle Vanya (NHB Classic Plays)
    Author

    Anton Chekhov

    Anton Pavlovich Chekhov (1860–1904) was a Russian doctor, playwright, and author. His best known works include the plays The Seagull (1896), Uncle Vanya (1900), and The Cherry Orchard (1904), and the short stories “The Lady with the Dog,” “Peasants,” and “The Darling.” One of the most influential and widely anthologized writers in Russian history, Chekhov spent most of his career as a practicing physician and devoted much of his energy to treating the poor, free of charge. He died of tuberculosis in 1904.  

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    Reviews for Uncle Vanya (NHB Classic Plays)

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    • 5/5
      First saw this at the Guthrie Theater, Minneapolis, nearly five decades ago (1969)--before I had read it in translation or (parts) in Russian. (The title, Дядя Ваня can be understood after two weeks of Russian.) The Guthrie had the tone just right--a comedy with a sad ending? Rather like so many Shakespeare tragedies with (somewhat) happy endings-- RIII,even MacBeth. Back then it was rare to see Checkov anything but dreary, quasi-tragic, similar to Ibsen. Тогда это было редко видеть Checkov ничего, кроме тоскливой, квази-трагический, похожий на Ибсена.
      Dr. Astrov's resounding support for the forest resounded with me, whose family has lived in New England since 1661, and who grew up summers in Maine on 40 acres of field and forest, the nearest inhabited farm a mile away. Astrov might appall modern pretend conservationists paid to manage forests but who sell off the oak to create better hunting. (Even Brazilians who strip rainforest don't pretend they're land protectionists.)
      Amazing how telling, how contemporary, land issues here and in the Cherry Orchard are. Of course, land was always a plague in Russia: anybody might own huge property, and not be rich. Wealth required owning the peasants to work tracts, мужики. Gogol's Chichikov discovers a tax loophole which can make him appear rich (thus marriageable), by buying dead people still on the lists. Amusing throughout. Hilarious when one sentimental landowner ironically named Bitch-son, собакевич, refuses to sell his former carriage-repairmen (?).
      I suppose trees are the modern tax-roll "souls": valuable when dead, as pretend conservationists know.
    • 4/5
      I read while listening to the Librivox full cast recording, which I will recommend. I found having different people reading the different parts (plus their intonations at certain times) really helped me keep track of who was who.

      This play struck me as having a lot going on even through it is mostly talk rather than action. Vanya (Ivan) has been caring for his niece Sonia's estate after his sister died; now, his (former?) brother-in-law & his second wife Helena are visiting. Helena exerts a disruptive influence on all the male characters which irresistably reminded me of Helen of Troy.

      I was struck by how modern some of the ideas expressed were. One example of this is the doctor's ideas about forests - his thoughts about deforestation and climate could have been spoken by someone today. I hadn't realized that these ideas existed in the late 1800s when Chekhov wrote this play!
    • 4/5
      I related to this at at least nine broadly related points (the wasted life, the tragic ridiculousness of the old man who can't catch up with the fact that old he is, the feeling of universal decline emerging from one's own decline, how watching other people laugh and cry makes you laugh and cry for maybe motor neuron reasons, how very very hard it is to walk away from someone you KNOW is gonna kiss you for the second time ever, how sad it is to be smart and unaccomplished and peevish, how it's all a fuckin dumb waste man, etc., etc.), and yet it still didn't really compare to Three Sisters on any level really for me, showing the superiority of art over life I guess.
    • 1/5
      I read this for a LAMDA exam, and to be honest the reason I did not enjoy it was probably due to the amount of times I had to go through one scene, but it's put me off of reading any more Chekov =/
    • 4/5
      A classic work of angst and despair, set in pre-revolutionary Russia. This is a play in four acts, and one of Chekov's most famous. It is a tale of mediocrity, and the pains of mediocrity in people who know they were not born to be mediocre. An extended family is thrown together for a summer, and seething resentments gradually bubble to the surface and threaten to destroy the title character, a man brought down by his own character flaws, but unable to recognize that, and attributing it to the whims of others. This play would probably not make it through a modern theatre workshop; it is filled with long expository speeches, and you go for quite a while without knowing what the stakes are, and never quite figure out who the antagonist and protagonist is, because the characters seem to change roles throughout the course of the play. Still, it can speak to a modern audience, if they will allow themselves to slow down to a pace unknown in our modern world, and move with the characters through their lazy days.
    • 4/5
      I found this drama to be quite dark. The setting, rural Russia in the late 1800s, was interesting. I believe Chekhov was trying to make a statement not just about the rural wealthy, but about humanity in general. He describes a degeneration of the relationship between man and nature, an indolent, ignorant oblivion, which destructs without replacing. A very dark drama.

    Book preview

    Uncle Vanya (NHB Classic Plays) - Anton Chekhov

    ACT ONE

    A late afternoon in June. A garden beneath the branches of old trees. Part of a house with a veranda can be seen. On the path a table is laid for tea and snacks. Benches, chairs, a guitar. It’s overcast and heavy, the sense of a storm brewing.

    NANA, a slow-moving woman in her seventies, sits knitting. ASTROV, a doctor in his forties, is strolling back and forth. He’s a fine-looking man, but a sense of his mortality hangs about him, giving him a darker energy. Unseen beneath a pile of old coats VANYA sleeps on the veranda.

    NANA. Will you stop walking up and down? You’re making me seasick.

    ASTROV. I’m sorry…

    NANA. Drink some tea.

    ASTROV. I’m not sure I can.

    NANA. Then be done with it and have a vodka.

    ASTROV. You think I’m that bad? I don’t drink every single day you know!

    NANA. Oh. I see. I didn’t realise.

    ASTROV considers for a moment.

    ASTROV. Nana?

    NANA. Mm?

    ASTROV. How long have we known each other?

    NANA. How long? Too long! I’m joking. Well, a long time. Sonya’s mother was still alive, so…

    ASTROV. That’s right.

    NANA. So what – sixteen, seventeen years?

    ASTROV. Yes, it must be. You think I’ve changed? In that time?

    NANA. Oh God yes. You used to be gorgeous. Young and dashing – we were all mad about you. And now – well – you’re older…

    ASTROV. Yes.

    NANA. …Still handsome, there’s no denying that. We all like that. But also…

    ASTROV. What…

    NANA. …Well you drink now.

    ASTROV. Yes.

    NANA. So…

    ASTROV. No, it’s true. I’m a completely different person, you’re right.

    NANA. You’re not a completely different person but you’re a drinker now, and what of it? Good for you. So what?

    ASTROV. You know why I drink, don’t you? Because I’m worn out! The moment I lie down, it’s bang bang at the door. Up and out to someone’s deathbed. Sometimes twenty miles away. And the rare nights when no one bangs at the door? Well you lie awake anyway – in dread of the knock that never comes! So of course you age and wither and get old. Who wouldn’t? That’s what happens.

    NANA (shrugs. Almost to herself). If you can hold your drink, what of it?

    ASTROV. You start going a bit wonky because you have to. I mean, look at this beard – have you seen it, Nana?

    They laugh.

    NANA. I like it!

    ASTROV. No you don’t!

    NANA. No I do! I don’t.

    ASTROV. I mean everybody gets a bit… but you know… I just never really feel anything any more, that’s what it is. I never look forward to anything.

    NANA (fondly, trying to rouse his spirits). Oh Doctor…

    She holds out her hand to him. He comes to her.

    ASTROV. Except you, Nana. I’ll always love you. When I was a little boy I had a lovely nana just like you. Gave me long deep hugs. I used to feel like nothing could harm me.

    NANA. You remind me of someone too. Please – have a drink.

    ASTROV (shakes his head). During Lent, earlier this year, I went up to Malitskóe – typhus epidemic. They’d thrown all the sick ones into huts – side by side on the floor, pigs coming in and out. Filthy. Depressing. I never stopped all day. Nothing to eat. By the time I got home I could hardly stand.

    Bang bang bang on the door, they carry in this… boy. Trainee signalman. Stock car had sliced off half his foot. I got him up on the table, quickly gave him the chloroform and he – he just died. Right there. And just when you could really do without it – all my feelings came back. I felt like I had killed him. They were all looking at me – asking me if he was alright – and I just sat on the… Just covered my eyes. All I could think was why can’t it be a hundred or two hundred years from now. You know? We’ll all be gone, none of it will matter. I mean, the people then, will they even remember us? Have anything good to say about us? They’ll just forget all about us.

    NANA. The people may not remember but God will.

    VANYA is waking up on the veranda.

    ASTROV (laughs mordantly). Yes! Well said, Nana. (Absently.) Yes.

    VANYA. Yes! (Yawns and stretches, getting up, looking about.) Yes indeed! What were we talking about?

    ASTROV. Typhus.

    VANYA. Lovely.

    ASTROV. Good sleep?

    VANYA. Too good. Horrible black hole in the middle of the day. You see this is what’s happened! Ever since the professor and his young bride returned they’ve knocked me right off my beanpole. I take these stupid catnaps in the middle of the day which means I wander about awake all night. I’ve missed all the regular mealtimes, so I stuff my face with snacks which means I drink too much wine which means then I start into the liqueurs which inevitably lead me on to the spirits – which always knock me sideways – suddenly I wake up, I’ve missed my breakfast, I’ve missed my lunch, and the whole blasted nightmare starts all over again. It’s no good. I need to be occupied. I need to be worn out, because of all my…

    ASTROV. Your nervous energy.

    VANYA. Yes – my energy, it’s not nervous. It’s…

    ASTROV. It’s edgy.

    VANYA (enjoying his friend’s familiarity). It’s a little bit edgy. But ever since the professor came I’m… well Sonya’s quicker than me, and her eyesight’s better so she gets it all done before I even wake up so I’m…

    ASTROV. You’re cast adrift.

    VANYA. I’ve been cast adrift. Haven’t I, Nana?

    NANA. The professor never even stirs till noon. Before he came we always ate our dinner at the normal hour of twelve o’clock in the afternoon, same as everyone else all over the world, didn’t we, Vanya?

    VANYA. Yes, Nana.

    NANA. You know what time the professor eats his dinner?

    ASTROV. I don’t know.

    NANA. Go on, guess.

    ASTROV. I don’t know.

    NANA. Six o’clock! Six o’clock in the evening!

    VANYA. Six o’clock.

    NANA. Six o’clock.

    ASTROV. Good Lord.

    NANA. Then up

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