Chekhov's "Uncle Vanya:" A Play with a Message, or Not

I have recently been taking a Continuing Studies course on the short stories and plays of the Russian writer Anton Chekhov (1860 - 1904). What follows is a couple of things I wrote up for a discussion thread on the play "Uncle Vanya."

----

One question that almost always arises is: "Does this play have a message?" (It doesn't have to. Many, many plays have been written as a source of entertainment for a night out, and some serve to illuminate an issue without resolving it -- hopefully with great acting along the way. "Up to you to decide," the author says, leaving one to horse it over with one's companions over a post-theater drink or two.)

If "Uncle Vanya" has a message, it would appear to be that "work" has both value in and of itself and will be rewarded by God. (In view of Chekhov's generally bleak outlook on human existence and his eventual atheism, not to mention the doctor's discovery that much in the way of human endeavor is destroying the earth, one can wonder about that.)

In any event, Yelena is criticized on more than one occasion for not working. When she serves to distract Vanya and the doctor from their work, their lives fall apart and the continued existence of the household is threatened as the crops aren't properly harvested, bills go unpaid, and the necessary paperwork is left undone. And the region's sick are left unattended.

At one point Marina tells Telegin not to pay attention to a shopkeeper who has called him a hanger-on (a terrible insult, it would seem). "Don't pay the least attention to them, master; we are all dependents on God. You and Sonia and all of us. Everyone must work, no one can sit idle."

Most significantly on that front, Sonia -- ever a voice of hope no matter how bleak the outlook (Vanya would have liked to be another Schopenhauer!) -- is given the last word, reinforced by music. "We must live our lives ... We shall work for others without rest, both now and when we are old ... God will have pity on us ..."  And the reward for working steadily in this life will be rest and happiness -- beyond the grave.

Did Chekhov really believe that, and is that really the "take away" one is supposed to get from this play? Or are we to view poor Sonia as the biggest fool of all?

-------

One can definitely just enjoy the show, as one might any other accomplished artistic creation.

It need not have a message -- at least not one specifically intended by its creator. Asked what a work of art means, the artist may well say (and many have): "It means whatever it means to you."

Early in the English translation that I read, Telegin says a particular scene is "worthy of Aivazovsky's brush," the latter being a Russian painter of considerable renown. (The phrase apparently gained popular currency in the wake of Chekhov's play as a means of labeling something beautiful or of considerable value.)

One can take the view that "Uncle Vanya" in its totality is "worthy of Aivazovsky's brush." Here we see Chekhov's impressive skills in full bloom as he paints a picture of a slice of Russian society. a picture in which playgoers can see themselves or people they know. A certain degree of artistic license enhances or amplifies notable aspects of the scene.

What then to make of Sonia's concluding soliloquy or the doctor's environmental lecture? There is no particular message for playgoers. These are simply aesthetic depictions of the nature of certain people one might encounter and of the role they play in society. Sonia, Marina and perhaps Telegin are recognizeable as the glue that holds things together.

Vanya's repeated attempt to shoot someone, quickly forgiven? An important role of theater is that of a safety valve: an outlet for emotions that can't easily be expressed without dire consequences in real life. Plays like "Vanya" need a dramatic focal point. Whether the action is entirely credible is less important than the emotional impact.

In short: sit back and enjoy the brush strokes -- and the resulting vivid imagery. That's enough.

All You Need is Love, or How to Tanscend a Happy Marriage

In 1967, the Beatles released what was arguably their sappiest song: "All You Need Is Love." It became an anthem of the hippie era -- encapsulating the sentiment of the San Francisco Summer of Love -- much the way "We Shall Overcome" became an anthem of the slightly earlier civil rights movement.

The notion that love can conquer all is back, in the form of a play by Sarah Rhul called "How to transcend a happy marriage" that is currently playing in New York at Lincoln Center.

"The Humans:" Life is a Downer For The 99%

The New York Times recently ran a lengthy obituary of John Bradshaw, who achieved considerable renown as a self-help evangelist.

 

I mention this because Bradshaw, who initially experienced severe alcoholism after a troubled childhood, has been credited with bringing the term "dysfunctional family" into common use during his subsequent, very successful career.

Now, it seems we can't get away from it. Among other things, it has become a staple of a great deal of contemporary fiction and, of course, live theater where the emotions ordinary people may feel, but have difficulty expressing without disastrous consequences, are given free rein on stage.

One of the latest examples of this is a current Broadway play called "The Humans," by Stephen Karam.

In a Times review earlier this year, Christopher Isherwood called the play, about a family gathering for a somewhat makeshift Thanksgiving dinner in a distressing New York apartment, superlative.

"Written with a fresh-feeling blend of documentary like naturalism and theatrical daring, and directed with consummate skill by Joe Mantello, Mr. Karam’s comedy-drama depicts the way we live now with a precision and compassion unmatched by any play I’ve seen in recent years. By “we” I mean us non-one-percenters, most of whom are peering around anxiously at the uncertain future and the unsteady world, even as we fight through each day trying to keep optimism afloat in our hearts."

The play is, indeed, well acted and the set is all-too convincing -- to the point where one feels as if one is in the apartment with the family. And at times, it is very funny. But the jokes are for the most part transgressive in nature -- at the expense of people in difficult circumstances of one sort or another. One laughs at the punch lines and then doesn't feel particularly good about having done so.

While the family is depicted as treasuring strong bonds, as time goes by and one character after another is revealed to be troubled, compromised or having come up short in one way or another, those bonds seem increasingly superficial. The only character not in danger of heading into a downward spiral is the live-in boyfriend of the family's younger daughter -- but only because he will soon come into a trust fund rather than from his own efforts. He has little to offer other than the food.

If Mr, Isherwood is correct in saying that the play accurately depicts "the way we live," that myriad of life-is-a-downer New Yorker short stories that  I have complained about may not be so far off the mark. I also have a related post on what is missing in contemporary fiction.

How does it all end?  Well, without giving anything away, as the emotional intensity steadily increases -- in "The Humans" as in other plays in the same genre -- one begins to wonder how the playwright is going to bring things in for a landing.  Not easily and not always in a satisfactory fashion in my theater-going experience.