Trevor Nunn’s long awaited Uncle Vanya is a sumptuous marvel

Trevor Nunn has directed every Shakespeare play, and a fair few of Chekov’s. And plenty more to boot. He is Artistic Director of the Theatre Royal Haymarket, having previously been in the same position at the RSC and the National Theatre. In short, a play adapted and directed by him is an event in and of itself. That it is Uncle Vanya, a play which has so far eluded him, makes it even more so. And it pays off, in spades. The Orange Tree is just such a wonderful setting for this claustrophobic play oscillating between boredom and passion, love, tenderness and murderous rage, and Nunn’s direction is immersive placing every audience member as a fly on the wall. 

Such is the intensity of the interactions onstage that the play constantly feels pacey and well timed, the proximity of the characters before us feels like a pressure cooker about to explode. Through this, Vanya’s acerbic interactions with other members of the household feel like attempts at release that might bring the whole façade crashing down. James Lance’s Vanya is, yes, despairing but also witty, caustic and eventually tragic – he makes a dislikeable character sympathetic. But rarely are any of the characters able to enjoy the space they all so blatantly require, and this is a wonderful ensemble piece. Nunn’s direction does a wonderful job of illuminating what connects all the characters in the play: the wastage of time. Vanya feels directly placed in the action between Mikhail Astrov, 12 years younger (Andrew Richardson, wonderfully lost and inspiring at the same time) and the older Professor Serebryakov (William Chubb, who brings a wonderful pathos and understanding to what in other circumstances can act merely as Vanya’s foil). 

The same is reflected in the female characters, each a reflection of the other’s former or future self. Lily Sacofsky is an empowered and grounded Elena, as opposed to all the over-affectionate and desperate men she is surrounded with. That she finds herself falling for Astrov is almost a tragedy in itself. Susan Tracy is hilarious, if often missed as Maria Voynitsky, Vanya’s Mother. Such is the fate of the old in this play, they seem to be either forgotten, dismissed or chased away with gunfire. Maybe that’s why all the characters seem to be so preoccupied with aging. Max Pappenheim’s sound design in this regard is delicate and gorgeous – the addition of a barely audible tick of the clock as time slouches interminably onward. Lush. Completing another trio of self-reflective characters is Sonya in which role Madeleine Gray is utterly magnetic. It was in a first act scene with Sacofsky that the performance really felt as if it took off. Suddenly an engine started in the performance and we, the audience, were all along for the ride. 

This was not my first time seeing Chekov, nor my first time seeing Uncle Vanya, but it was the first time I have felt watching it that time just flew. It was funny, it was vital, it was alive, it was FUNNY! Let’s pray the days of British Chekov performances which wallow in despair without finding the humour are gone. It makes it better! Vanya’s remorse and embarrassment at the end of the play are made all the more potent because of his sarcasm and ripping humour in the earlier scenes. Nunn’s well balanced, beautifully acted, gorgeously designed Vanya was well worth the wait – and the sustained applause, which dragged Lance and Gray back out after the curtain call, is a testament to the fact. This is simply a wonderful show.