The White Dacha

First we get Last Station and now we have Chekhov and Maria, a film treatment of an earlier play by Jovanka Bach.  We all know that writers were not saints, but it seems that in recent biopics it has become all to tempting to identify with the thwarted woman, in this case Chekhov's sister.


The film, like the play, focuses on the waning days of Chekhov's life at his White Dacha in Yalta, where his sister and mother looked after him.   The seaside house served as a magnet for visiting writers, composers and other celebrities, including close friends Bunin and Gorky.  Chekhov had married the well known actress, Olga Knipper, but he was unable to spend much time in Moscow or on the road with her, given his tuberculosis.    Letters indicate this was a mutually agreed to situation.  However, Jovanka draws on Maria's letters as well, which paint a much less flattering portrait of events.  What follows is a story not much unlike that of Uncle Vanya, with Chekhov cast as a  combination of Vanya and the Doctor to Maria's forlorn Sonya.  

Chekhov was apparently not one to show much emotion, so the audience will have little problem identifying with Maria, much like Sophia Tolstaya in The Last Station.  It makes for compelling drama, although the performances are a bit stilted.  Ron Bottitta and Gillian Brashear reprise their roles in the film directed by Eric Till.


Here is a nice piece  by Rosamund Bartlett, Remembering Chekhov in Yalta.

East of the Caucasus, West of the Moon

Leonid Gaidai has great fun with the classic story, The Prisoner of the Caucasus, in Shurik's New Adventures, a.k.a., Kidnapping, Caucasian Style.  Shurik first was introduced to Soviet audiences in Operation Y.  It is kind of Three Stooges meet Pushkin, or Tolstoy as the case may be, in a ribald comedy very loosely based on the classic works.

The story has been adapted to the screen by others, including Sergei Bodrov, who retold Tolstoy's version in Prisoner of the Mountains (1996), which also starred Oleg Menshikov.  A much more serious telling.

Viy

Viy, or Evil Spirit, was a supernatural short story by Gogol.  He liked to revel in folk forms before going after larger literary game in The Revizor and Dead Souls. Viy has been made into a movie countless times, but perhaps the most famous version is from 1967, directed by Georgi Kropachyov.  It reminds one a little bit of The Exorcist.  There is also this stylish new interpretation by Oleg Stepchenko, which seems to be equal parts Gogol and Stoker, with an English cartographer finding himself lost in the dark woods of Ukraina.  It will be re-released in 2012 in 3D no less.

Dark Knight

Timur Bekmambetov has been getting a lot of attention in recent years, having crossed over to Hollywood from his native Kazakhstan.  After the successful Afghan war movie, Peshavar Waltz, he teamed up with Roger Corman on a remake of The Arena, pitting Playboy models as gladiators.  Corman later released a dubbed version of Timur's previous movie, renaming it Escape from Afghanistan.  But, Bekmambetov returned to contemporary Moscow in Night Watch (2004), where he pits the forces of light and dark against each other in an apocalyptic thriller played out by two ancient warriors using "others" to keep each other at bay.

He certainly has all the tools to be a great director, but he doesn't seem to be very discerning in his choices.  Night Watch is perhaps his best film, as it picks up on Russian obsessions with the occult, dark video games and the gangland world.  He plays the film out like a chess match between dark and light lords, who use mediums, or "others," to carry out their actions, prefiguring Jacob and the Man In Black in Lost.  Mercifully, he brings his story to an end, with threads that lead to subsequent movies, Day Watch and the yet to be made Dusk.

I think Timur would be more comfortable with a remake of Gogol's Viy or one of Bulgakov's dark tales rather than Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter, but the trailer looks very entertaining.

Story of the Bass Cello

I was putting together a list of movies, The More Refined One Is, the More Unhappy, based on Chekhov stories and plays, and came across a couple of fun shorties drawn from his story, Romance with a Double Bass.  The first stars John Cleese and Connie Booth, a year before they teamed up on Fawlty Towers .  The second is a wonderful Czech animated feature by Jiri Trnka, which dates from 1949.    Oddly enough, I'm not able to find a copy of the story online.

Revizor, or the Inspector-General

I find myself prepping for an upcoming production of the Revizor.  Rimas Tuminas is reviving the production in Lithuania.  He has been directing Moscow's Vakhtangov Theater the past several years, but returns to his home theater from time to time.  Here is a clip from his first production in 2001.  Previews show Sergei Makovetsky cast as the mayor, but will have to wait until the 29th to see!

Vladimir Nabokov noted in his book on Nikolai Gogol that the play languished under heavy-handed productions for decades before Meyerhold got a hold of it in 1926 and set the appropriate tone and sense of humor that Gogol had imagined.  It is this version of the play that has come down to us.  Pretty amazing given that the political climate in the early Soviet Union wasn't much different than it was in Russia in 1842, when the play was first produced, but then Nabokov warned that this delicious story shouldn't be read as political satire, but rather as a pioneering work of art, defying all theatrical conventions, confounding theater directors, critics and censors alike at the time.

The Revizor is considered the epitome of satire, and perhaps Gogol's greatest work.  It seems just about everyone has tried his hand at this play at one time or another, including Danny Kaye in the 1949 Hollywood production.  There is also a little known Egyptian version, which dates from Nasser's time, 1956.  Here is the 1996 Russian screen production, featuring Nikita Mikhalkov as the mayor and Oleg Yankovsky as the judge.   Unfortunately, no subtitles.

What to make of Chekov?

Speaking of Chek(h)ov, there has been a cyber legend that Pravda questioned the lack of a "Russian" member on the international crew of Star Trek, and so Gene Roddenberry felt compelled to create the character Ensign Chekov.  Snopes questions the story on several counts.  Nothing has apparently been found in the Pravda archives to verify this claim, and  young Pavel looks suspiciously like Davy Jones (mop heads were quite popular at the time).  But, if you look at young Anton Chekhov and young Pavel Chekov there is some resemblance ; )  It seems Roddenberry was already cultivating myths back in the 60s that would keep Trekkies going for decades afterward.

It struck me that Roddenberry was more drawn to the voyages of Captain Cook than he was the space race in creating the original series.  For whatever reason, he felt compelled to introduce a Russian character, probably in an effort to show that the Cold War really would come to an end some day and the space race would evolve into a joint effort.  Turned out to be quite prescient in this regard, as the famous Apollo-Soyuz joint mission proved in 1975.  A number of collaborative efforts have been carried out in the years since.

Antosha Chekhonte

It was interesting to read that Chekhov initially published his short stories under the pseudonym Antosha Chekhonte, since he viewed his humorous sketches as little more than a means of making money to help feed himself and his extended family.  Nemirovsky noted that the young author didn't think much of these stories until Dmitri Grigorovich, an elder Petersburg novelist, wrote to tell him how much he enjoyed his stories that were being published in a Petersburg journal, Fragments, over the period 1883-85.  Grigorovich singled out The Hunstman as his favorite.  In response, young Anton (then 26) thanked his admirer profusely but admitted that he wrote that particular story while taking a bath and could see nothing special in it.  Nevertheless, he would take his fan's words of advice and devote more time to his writing, as Grigorovich noted it would be a waste to squander such talent. The old novelist also urged Chekhov to publish under his own name.

Here are more of Chekhov's early short stories.

The Elusive Mr. Chekhov

It seems Anton Chekhov is a hard man to pin down.  No one has yet to write a definitive account in the English language.  I've been reading Irene Nemirovsky's A Life of Chekhov, published after her death in 1950.  It is a personal story about Chekhov, rather than a study of his work.  The narrative has been made into a BBC radio play.

A book that does receive much praise is Anton Chekhov's Life and Thought, edited and annotated by Simon Karlinsky and translated by Michael Henry Heim.  It is a collection of Chekhov's letters spread throughout his literary career with a lengthy introduction by Karlinsky putting his work into perspective.  Here is a copy of the 1997 reprint by Northwestern University.  It appears to be an expanded copy of the original 1975 edition.  Nemirovsky drew on Chekhov's letters to a large degree in writing her personal account.

Henri Troyat has also written a biography of Chekhov that is generally well regarded.  He is most famous for his magisterial biography of Tolstoy.  Heim also translated this book to English.

The portrait is by Issac Levitan, painted in 1886.  Here's a nice essay, Crossed Destinies: Anton Chekhov and Isaac Levitan

Time waits for no one

It was funny to read Ivan Bunin's comments on The Cherry Orchard.  He criticized Chekhov for making so much of an orchard when it was impossible to grow much of anything in the region he described, and that the land would have been of little value to a speculator like Lopakhin. It seems Bunin, like many others, had a tendency to take Chekhov literally, when the play was intended as a comedy.

Stanislavsky once again staged the play as a historic drama, taking the role of Gaev himself and casting Lopakhin as an unsympathetic local businessman intent on wresting the estate from poor Madame Ranevskaya.  Chekhov apparently didn't see Lopakhin as good or bad, but rather someone who was sympathetic to the woman and was trying to work out the best deal for her, but she and her brother simply couldn't see past their rose-tinted glasses, imagining the estate in its former glory rather than sad state of affairs that now existed.

Not surprisingly, later Soviet versions played up Lopakhin and cast Lyubov Adreievna and Leonid Anreieveitch as anachronistic beings forever trapped in their own world.  Varya is the sensible daughter and Anya the hopelessly naive one.  Vladimir Vysotsky even took a theatrical turn in The Cherry Orchard in 1974, lending his charismatic presence to Lopakhin.

Foreign versions, like this 1962 adaptation by Michel Saint-Denis with a young Judy Dench as Anya, favored the nobility.  John Gielgud offers a very dashing version of Gaev, and poor Lopakhin is reduced to the periphery.  The most interesting thing is that Dame Judy Dench returned to play Madame Ranevskaya in this 1981 production.

There is this Russian version, directed by Anna Chernakova in 1993.  After some interesting archival logging footage, the story starts with Lopakhin tending a fire and reminiscing of a time the Madame came to his aid, as in the play.  She did a follow-up to this film in 2010, entitled Death in Pince-Nez, which is reviewed in KinoKultura.  There is also this adaptation by Sergei Ovcharov, simply entitled The Garden, which he produced in 2008.

Another recent cinematic version is one directed by Mihalis Kakogiannis in 1999, starring Charlotte Rampling and Alan Bates as Madame Ranevskaya and Gaev.

Tom Stoppard also takes a turn with The Cherry Orchard, teaming up with Sam Mendes for this modern British theatrical production at the BAM in 2009. Stoppard and Mendes apparently try to tie Chekhov to Beckett.

The lead photo is from a production at the Dundee Rep, directed by Vladimir Bouchler in 2009.  Take your pick.

What is Art?

The problem with Chekhov is that once you get started it is hard to stop.  I turned to The Seagull the other night in this wonderful collection, translated by Laurence Senelick.  It is perhaps his most engaging play with characters that leap off the page, such as the eternally young stage actress, Irina Arkadina, who constantly terrorizes her son, Konstantin Treplev.  He is vainly trying to break standard conventions when it comes to play writing, but finds himself unable to elicit the emotions most persons, especially his mother, look for in theater.

Senelick noted that Tolstoy didn't think much of the play, content only with a single passage in which Treplev castigated the state of the theater at the time.  But, Chekhov struck a wonderful balance between comedy and drama, not letting his speeches dominate the play.  Treplev finds he is no match for his mother, who diminishes him at every turn.  The play opens with Konstantin staging one of his plays at a summer house, only for his mother to crush his spirits with her sharp sarcasm.  Not only that, but Nina (Konstantain's love interest) is intrigued by Arkadina's "boy toy," Trigorin, a successful novelist, further devastating the would-be playwright.

The final act takes place two years later, with all the characters coming back together again pretty much in the same state of mind although much has happened in the time in between.  Seems Chekhov wanted to show that time doesn't change the situation except to show Masha's strong interest in Treplev, despite having married Medvedev and having a child.  Treplev still maintains his unrequited love for Nina.  Arkadina remains indifferent to everyone but herself and Trigorin is content to play his part in this melodrama, oblivious to anyone's feelings.

Chekhov intended it as a comedy, but Stanislavsky treated the play they way he did historic dramas, casting the characters as polar opposites.  This was before he would modernize the theater.  Chekhov was very dissatisfied with Stanislavsky's production, but it was a success and for years remained the definitive version.

Savelyeva (Nina)

The classic film version is this 1970 Russian production, Chayka, directed by Yuri Karasik, with some of Russia's finest stage actors of the era, including a young Lyudmila Savelyeva as Nina.  Pictured above is Alla Demidova as Arkadina.  There was also a ballet version with Maya Plisetskaya and music by Rodion Shchedrin, from 1980. But, probably the best known version is Sidney Lumet's 1968 adaptation, thanks to its all-star cast that included Simone Signoret (Arkadina), James Mason (Trigorin), Vanessa Redgrave (Nina), and David Warner (Treplev).   Here's a clip of the opening scene.

Exporting Vanya

It was a return to Chekhov over the weekend as I watched Vanya of 42nd Street, an interesting adaptation of the play by David Mamet filtered through the lens of Louis Malle.  I had seen it years ago and had remembered it fondly.  It was nice not to be disappointed the second time around.

The production has its flaws.  I think it was a little too melodramatic at times but Wallace Shawn is good as Vanya.  Larry Pines is excellent as Astrov and Julianne Moore simply divine as Yelena.  The supporting cast is filled out nicely with George Gaynes providing the necessary aplomb to the role of Serybryakov.

There is a certain amount of overlap in Chekhov's plays but it was interesting to see that Uncle Vanya is an adaptation of an earlier play, The Wood Demon, with several of the same characters and much of the same dialog.  Chekhov was never satisfied with his earlier play and chose to rework it.  He had fallen under the spell of Tolstoyism during the writing of The Wood Demon and by 1897 had second thoughts about the idealism Tolstoy inspired.

Astrov is a carry over of Krushchov, the good doctor who has such a great interest in maintaining the nation's forests for the sake of posterity.  But, in Uncle Vanya, Astrov questions whether it is all worth it.  He makes a speech very similar to Krushchov in the first act, extolling the virtues of forest management, but by the third act he makes it clear to Yelena in a set of maps that it is a losing proposition.  He notes that if progress had resulted in better roads, schools and the general welfare of the people, he could justify the despoiling that had taken place in their region, but all he sees is more poverty.  Perhaps Chekhov's own disillusionment is reflected through the once starry-eyed Astrov.

Eventually, Astrov, like Vanya and Sofiya, returns to his work after the professor and his lovely wife leave for a remote city where he hopes to settle into retirement.  As with The Cherry Orchard, the important thing is to accept your condition in life.

Chekhov's plays are more a vehicle to vent anxieties than a search for some great dramatic victory or great truth.  In many cases, his plays were intended as social comedies, poking fun at all the frustrated ambitions of living on country estates, detached from the cultural and intellectual hubs of Moscow and Petersburg.  Whatever talents his characters have are minimal, yet they aspire for something more than their work-a-day lives, which is why audiences were drawn to his plays, as they voiced many of the same anxieties they felt.  This is especially the case with Uncle Vanya, one of his most enduring plays.