Playwright: Anton Chekhov, adapted by Jean-Claude Van Itallie. At: Raven Theatre, 6157 N. Clark. Phone: 773-338-2177;$30. Runs through: July 23
How much of Jean-Claude Van Itallie's Caffé Cino aesthetic has been imposed on his translation of Chekhov's original text is uncertain, and how much of what we see on the Raven stage is director Michael Menendian's choice likewise, but there's no denying that in this production, fin-de-siècle Russia looks remarkably like our South in the years following the Civil War.
There's nothing fundamentally wrong with relocating the classics. Wouldn't we recognize The Seagull's pampered elite more quickly if they were summering in the Hamptons? Wouldn't it be easier for us to sympathize with Uncle Vanya's weariness on a farm in Bucks County, or to identify with the Prozorov sisters if their dream was Manhattan instead of Moscow? In this case, too, the issues under scrutiny surmount geographical boundaries—hasn't the dissolution of large country estates/plantations following the emancipation of the serfs/slaves needed for their maintenance always engendered difficult transitions as formerly affluent pillars of the community struggle to retain their status against encroaching poverty and their once-economically disenfranchised neighbors, now wavering between revenge and pity on their recent governors.
The anguish of a widowed dowager confronting the destruction of her property and foreclosure on her childhood home will be immediately apparent to modern playgoers recalling the rise of factories, corporate offices, tract homes and shopping malls on land previously dedicated to agricultural interests. So will the diverse response of the newly-independent citizens, who also have their counterparts in our own history: Yasha's palpable eagerness to elevate himself above his former peers, old Firs' dogged devotion to his former master, Yermolay and Varya's reluctance—even after three generations—to breach class boundaries by declaring their affections for one another.
Stylistic elements departing from conventional interpretations—in particular, introspective exposition delivered full-front after the manner of soliloquies—may require some acclimation, and a few auxiliary presences never quite establish their place in the family portrait. Raven Theatre didn't earn its 25 years-plus following through scholarly enhancements, however, but instead on its reliable delivery of sturdy, coherent drama innovative enough to escape the classroom-classic doldrums, but never veering into muddy self-indulgence—skills amply demonstrated by an acting ensemble encompassing two generations of Raven regulars who readily engage us with deceptively-humorous intrigue gradually intensifying into suspense to make the most seasoned Chekhov aficionados hold their breath in anticipation of the outcome.
