What I liked
The Nina Variations is a heavy script that explores a heartwrenching tragedy. Given this, it is more than surprising how darkly funny it manages to be.
The comedic timing and chemistry between the actors was spot on, and lines that reveal how stubborn, ridiculous, superstitious, self-centered, or cruel our two leads are manage to be uproariously funny.
Of particular note, the scene where Treplev reveals he has not read Trigorin’s work – and never intends to. His tongue-in-cheek exultation of the Critics who have served him an opinion he is motivated to believe reveals Treplev to be a wonderfully colorful character, witty and stubborn. Over the course of an increasingly absurd back and forth, he manages to spin a wonderfully thought-provoking argument out of whole cloth, resulting in a line sure to sit with me for a long time: “If we cannot form strong opinions about something we know nothing about, how could we fall in love?”
Of course, the real punchline is delivered by Nina several scenes later, in punchy and brutal fashion, when she dismisses Treplev with his very own words.
There’s a lot to love about this show – the actors were phenomenal, the direction was intelligent, the script could be studied for a lifetime, and the passion injected into it by all participating members was evident.
What I didn't like
Where the show could leave an audience member wanting, it is in the difficulty of the topic. Treplev and Nina are both vastly intelligent, but their talk of Forms and the meaning of life can quickly leave an unprepared mind reeling, even on a rewatch. It leaves you much to think about, and not much is resolved by the ending – of course, the play has already ended, even as it begins. The resulting experience can induce melancholia, frustration, abject tragedy, and sometimes leaves you wondering how you should even feel.
This, however, could solidly be said to be a part of the intended experience of sitting through the show – something anyone who was already familiar with the ending of The Seagull would well be expecting. The execution left little to be desired.
Yet, I think there were certain scenes that flew by a bit too quickly. The 14th scene, Nina’s punchline to Treplev’s fit about scene 13, did not land for me – it took me a few more scenes to get what I’d just witnessed. A few of the other shorter scenes could also have been given more time to breathe, and stew – giving the audience more time to soak in some of the more complex details of the relationship unfolding before them.
Truthfully, that aside, I could not imagine this being done in a better way, or with a better cast.
My overall impression
A dense, but immensely rewarding exploration of the ending of The Seagull. The joy, humor, beauty, frustation, and heart-rending tragedy of two fatally flawed but hopelessly real people, delivered with the same relentless, concurrent, inexplicable cadence as real life.
The writing is intentional and multi-faceted – very few elements of the script exist that do not serve to parallel, reinforce, or layer the meaning of the rest, but it’s easy to miss many of those meanings. The direction and acting of the play is snappy, never pausing to let your thoughts resolve on any one scene – something that could be considered a strength or a weakness, depending on your mindset coming in.
Much work was done in direction and acting to inject the play with life, chemistry, and reality. James Carter Montgomery and Natalie Valentine are as much Treplev and Nina as the reverse is true, forcing you to see them not as characters, but as people in your life. The performance is dynamic, moving, and emotional. When you see the actors exit the theatre your first impulse is to grab them by the shoulders, shake them, ask them why – why, Treplev, do you not let go, move on? Why, Nina, can you not see Trigorin as we do?
Of course, you’ve already received, in so many forms, the simple yet unacceptable answer to these questions – they are hopelessly in love. Nothing could be more undoing.
