Thomas Ostermeier’s Bold Take on Chekhov’s The Seagull Starring Cate Blanchett
Last spring, the acclaimed director Thomas Ostermeier, a luminary in the realm of avant-garde European theatre, made his debut in the West End with a laborious modern interpretation of Ibsen’s Enemy of the People. This production featured Matt Smith in the role of a curmudgeonly, perennial student. Now, Ostermeier returns with an even more ambitious project, this time tackling Chekhov instead of Ibsen, and he brings with him a star of unparalleled stature: Cate Blanchett, who electrifies the stage as the self-absorbed actress Irina Arkadina.
For this venture, Ostermeier has wisely collaborated with Duncan Macmillan, a writer fluent in the nuances of the English language. The result is a riveting adaptation that, while set in a contemporary context, stays true to the heart of Chekhov’s original characters and themes. The play unfolds on a dilapidated country estate, isolated from the world, where a close-knit circle of family, friends, and various hangers-on are ensnared in a web of despair. They grapple with existential ennui and find themselves caught in a relentless cycle of unrequited love. Even Trigorin (played by Tom Burke), the self-centered writer who is the object of affection for many, including Arkadina, seems disillusioned by the lack of fulfillment in his relationships.
The Chekhovian drama, while compelling, begins with an unexpected scene: a performer riding a quad bike, strumming a Billy Bragg song on his guitar, and inviting the audience to engage with the question, “Who wants a bit of Chekhov?” While this introductory moment leaves one pondering its purpose, the play swiftly transitions to the heart-wrenching lives of its characters, where emotions run high. Blanchett’s Arkadina, a tempestuous diva clad in a striking purple jumpsuit, embodies the role of a mother whose relationship with her son Konstantin (Kodi Smit-McPhee) is fraught with tension. Their exchanges are laced with fierce animosity, particularly when Konstantin launches into a passionate diatribe against the futility of his mother’s theatrical pursuits, dismissing them as an “obsolete distraction.”
In a fascinating continuation of this self-reflexive theme, Trigorin later delivers an impassioned monologue, lamenting the need for figures like Nelson Mandela and Volodymyr Zelensky, declaring that “art has never been less relevant.” This statement serves as Ostermeier’s provocative commentary on our current chaotic global landscape. Yet, here we are, captivated in a theatre, watching a talented ensemble breathe life into the complexities of writers and actors—an art form that, despite its proclaimed irrelevance, continues to thrive.
At the Barbican, a striking patch of towering green crops dominates the stage, setting the scene for Blanchett’s commanding performance. Her portrayal of Arkadina is a whirlwind of theatrical emotion, encapsulating a core that feels achingly vacant. Emma Corrin shines as Nina, a young aspiring actress whose ethereal charm flirts dangerously with the edge of disintegration. Tanya Reynolds also delivers a poignant performance as the lovesick Masha, clad in the most drab and downtrodden attire imaginable. As is often the case in Chekhov’s works, the loyal helpers and retainers are left in the shadows while the principal characters navigate their ever-unfolding crises.
The evening ultimately celebrates theatre itself, positioning it as the true victor amidst the characters’ struggles.
Performances run until 5 April at Barbican Theatre, London. For more details, visit theseagullplay.co.uk.
