Playwright: adapted by Brian Friel from plays by Anton Chekhov
At: Irish Repertory of Chicago at Victory Gardens, 2257 N. Lincoln Ave.
Phone: ( 773 ) 871-3000; $28-$38
Runs through: October 16
It's not difficult to understand the appeal that 19th-century Russian playwright Anton Chekhov holds for contemporary Irish playwright Brian Friel. Both share a gloomy nostalgia for a culture doomed to extinction, tempered by a sneaking fascination—in modern productions, anyway—for the innovations that will displace the old ways even as dead foliage is displaced by new growth. ( In Chekhov's plays, it is always late summer. )
Nowhere is this melancholia more apparent than in Friel's adaptation of Chekhov's one-act play, The Yalta Game. The title refers to the propensity of vacationers at the seaside resort for projecting glamorous intrigues on their fellow patrons ( like the proverbial tourists in Hollywood who 'mistake each other for movie stars' ) . In this instance, a mousy accountant and a bored matron strike up a friendship, only to find, upon returning to their homes and families, that their fanciful pastime continues to infect their 'real' lives—a phenomenon not unknown to contemporary audiences today. Under the direction of Chicago expat Kay Martinovich, James Barry and Eva Bloomfield amplify the bittersweet romance inherent in this gentle folie à deux.
The Bear, on the other hand, is a flat-out comedy, in which a genteel widow and a crude landowner discover, to their dismay, a mutual attraction arising from their dispute over a payment owed the latter. Adapter Friel, director Martinovich, actors Meghan Maureen McDonough and the aforementioned Barry all emphasize the fundamental artifice of this ironic dynamic—hinting, for example, that the bereaved wife's self-martyrdom is rooted in spite at her late husband's infidelity—in a vain attempt to elevate the plausibility of this absurd scenario. But despite their efforts, and a scene-stealing performance by Michael O'Brien as a doddering servant, the results never rise above standard-issue rant-and-scramble farce.
Even with the Friel connection, Chekhov seems a curious choice for a company proclaiming its focus to be Irish drama, and the selection of an exercise familiar in American acting classes since 1932 ( if not longer ) to complete its double-bill, even more so. Theatergoers are advised to come for the first play and to play the Yalta Game during the second.
