Three Sisters, Checkov at the Abbey

Wednesday night I went to the Abbey for the first time in years; the theatre itself looks good and is still o dramne the best venues in Dublin. For no better reason than it was on, and the alternative was Riverdance at the gaiety we choose to see Three Sisters by Anton Chekhov – in a version by Brian Friel. The latter part of the poster is what decided me; I expect anything Mr Friel touches to be at least worth the look.

Three Sisters certainly is worth the look, but it’s a flawed offering. Firstly in fairness to the cast they are by and large very good. The sisters – Derbhla Crotty, Justine Mitchell and Emily Taaffe were good, especially Masha (Derbhla Crotty) and Olga (Justine Mitchell). Irina (Emily Taaffe) was a little overshadowed by them. “Masha” provided some of the only real moments of honest emotion especially in her final scene with her erstwhile lover (Lorcan Cranitch) while the actress playing Olga excelled. The best scene of the play was between her and “Natasha” (Fiona Bell)arguing over Nanny’s (Stella McCluskey) fate.

Lorcan Cranitch also excelled, and Brian Doherty deserves special mention. But by and large the cast were good. The problem lay elsewhere.

Chekhov is often described as a master wordsmith whose beautiful language delineates the sufferings of life. The theme of the play, the stifling year by year of the spirit and ambitions of three young women is filled with pathos and pain. It’s hardly a cheery offering and Friel’s version should be praised for getting some genuine humour from the original. But the pain and suffering was lost in the translation.

Modern audiences find it hard to sympathize with the inertia of the three women and their lack of choice needs to be rooted in some sense of the historical or alternatively, universalized into something that transcends time and place. The language was modernized but the bridge between modern sensibilities and modern relevance was never completed. Nothing in this version conveys sufficiently the fact that the women are trapped. I wondered half way through if, having tampered with the language the production shouldn’t have gone the whole hog and made the entire play relevant to Ireland. Or found some way to awaken our sympathies by modern or local references.

In the end, we just don’t get why they need to toil, toil, and stay where they are. I’m familiar with social history of women and the lack of choices that were obvious to me eluded several of my companions. I ended up explaining the context in the pub later. The last five minutes lacked the emotional punch one could have expected. From the Baron’s death to the sisters’ last declaration seemed almost farcical – the last lines lacked conviction. I know they are constrained by the original play but if you feel free to tamper with the earlier language maybe don’t stop now.

Go see it it’s relatively good and the acting is above par. But don;t blame me if like the elderly gentleman in the row in front of us, you let loose an involuntary snort of derision during the final moments or leave feeling as though you would have bought the girls a ticket to Moscow yourself and been done with it! Tantalisingly close but no proverbial.