The Seagull

Presented by Hit and Run Productions

Through July 1 at Darkhorse Theater

4610 Charlotte Ave.

$10; for tickets, call 297-0573

It’s hard to know where to begin. Ten of Nashville’s finest actors wanted to do a production of Anton Chekhov’s The Seagull. So they named themselves Hit and Run Productions, and they went ahead and did it—and quite splendidly. Truthfully, you won’t find a more lovingly acted and tightly directed production of the Russian master’s classic anytime soon in Nashville.

The Seagull was the earliest of Chekhov’s turn-of-the-20th-century dramatic successes—preceding the later, and probably better known, Uncle Vanya, The Three Sisters, and The Cherry Orchard. Yet it is an inspired example of the playwright’s gift for depicting all the pathos and humor that exist in everyday life. To see Chekhov done well is to see ourselves reflected oh-so-painfully in the writer’s mirror—yet always with affection. When Stanislavski first produced Chekhov’s plays at the Moscow Art Theatre, there seemed to be some confusion as to whether they were comedies or tragedies. On the other hand, Chekhov had no doubt—comedies they were. It just took a while for theater artists to realize the basic message: Life hurts too much; laughter is the only alternative.

Which isn’t to say that tragedy doesn’t abound in The Seagull. In many ways, it’s a dreary tale. Everybody loves someone they can’t have; most of the characters find happiness unattainable; artistic and personal frustration abound; and the finale is punctuated by the sound of a suicidal gunshot. In modern psychological parlance, we might say Chekhov writes about “survivors.” Indeed, like the stoical, hearty Russians they are, they will go on.

At curtain’s rise, Treplev, a young man who desires to be a writer, waits at his uncle’s estate for the arrival of his mother, Arkadina, a well-known actress, and her lover, Trigorin, a famous novelist. Treplev has written a play for the occasion, to be performed by Nina, a lovely neighbor girl whom he loves. Although Nina gives it her all, her performance and Treplev’s script are derided by the haughty Arkadina. The stage is now set for a series of familial and romantic discoveries, most of them typified by missed connections: Treplev loves Nina; Nina falls for Trigorin, impressed with his fame and talent; Trigorin, admittedly self-absorbed, finds ease in his tepid relationship with Arkadina, who has trouble coming to terms with her son. Meanwhile, the caretaker’s wife, Paulina, suffers unrequited love for Dorn, the local doctor; and her daughter, Masha, pines away for Treplev while making wedding plans with Medvedenko, the village schoolteacher.

It’s all a mess, really. Yet Chekhov, the supreme observer, takes these tattered lives and weaves a tapestry of poignancy, irony, and, yes, humor—all in tribute to human frailty.

This production has the unusual wrinkle of being directed by two of its players. Tennessee Repertory Theatre ensemble member Matt Chiorini and Actors Bridge regular Elizabeth Bell put together their own adaptation of the script, drawing from various other sources. The program offers little information about this, but one can only assume that the sources would include Constance Garnett’s oft-used “generic” translation, Jean-Claude van Itallie’s later adaptation, and British playwright Tom Stoppard’s more recent contemporary reworking of the drama.

Whatever hybrid form this is, it works remarkably well. There is no attempt to re-create the play’s original 1890s time frame. Actors dress plainly, but with a vague, modern feel. A boombox is used to provide onstage music, and a flashlight appears where the script calls for dramatic effect. Instead of trying to transform the limited space of the Darkhorse into a Russian country villa, the directors have sprinkled a few chairs, tables, and miscellaneous set pieces beneath expressionistic doorways and windows.

This rather nonspecific, “bare-bones” approach might be lethal in the hands of a lesser company. But the acting here is so good, one hardly notices anything else. And maybe that’s as it should be.

It’s worthwhile to mention all the players. Chiorini’s Treplev is affectingly romantic but never cloying. Nan Gurley’s Arkadina is a wonder of egotism and selfishness, ultimately the perfect counterpart to Jeremy Childs’ devilishly self-assured yet boorish Trigorin. Jenny Littleton’s irrepressible zest as Nina is intoxicating. Bell’s Masha sensitively conveys the play’s darker tones but is never maudlin, and Milton Bagby’s Sorin is the epitome of avuncular. Maurice Bullard’s turn as the caretaker Shamrayev is bigger than life, and Caroline Davis, who plays his wife, balances his gusto with a graceful, doe-eyed sadness. Finally, Rick Seay is all smoothness and mystery as Dorn, and Tom Archibald is a model of awkward sincerity as Medvedenko—perhaps the most Chekhovian character of them all.

This is fine theater presented by talented, committed artists (and that Chekhov guy is pretty darn good too).

The right Cline

“If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it” is an appropriate motto for the latest revival of Always...Patsy Cline, which recently opened at the Ryman Auditorium for its fourth tour of duty since its original presentation in 1994. Once again, recording artist Mandy Barnett re-creates the persona of one of Nashville’s most important female vocalists. Her captivating and incredibly accurate rendering of 20-plus Cline tunes serves as a thoughtful reminder of Cline’s stature—not only as a country singer, but also as a groundbreaking crossover talent. Sure, all of Patsy’s classics are here—“I Fall to Pieces,” “Sweet Dreams,” “Crazy,” “Walkin’ After Midnight,” “She’s Got You”—but we also get a sampler of the pop, gospel, and traditional tunes that were a part of her repertoire, including “How Great Thou Art,” “Bill Bailey,” and Neil Sedaka’s “Stupid Cupid.” Throw in a couple of Hank Williams favorites and other country gems such as “It Wasn’t God Who Made Honky Tonk Angels,” and you have an evening that is musically sublime.

And it’s just like they say: Sitting in the hallowed pews of the Ryman with eyes closed, you just might think for a moment that Patsy has risen from the dead. Barnett is backed by a solid six-piece band headed by musical director/pianist Tim Hayden, featuring arrangements that accurately capture the distinctive sound created by producer Owen Bradley. Actress Tere Myers, serving as the spiritual master of ceremonies, winningly reprises her role as Louise Seger, the Houston, Texas, fan with whom Patsy corresponded faithfully before her tragic death in an airplane crash in 1963. Under the direction of Tennessee Repertory Theatre artistic director David Grapes, Always...Patsy Cline will be at the Ryman until Aug. 12.