Chekhov: The Major Plays

An Applause Original

Chekhov: The Major Plays; English Versions by Jean-Claude van Itallie

Copyright @1995 by Applause Books

English version of Anton Chekhov’s The Sea Gull, Copyright ©1994, by Jean-Claude van Itallie (Revised), Copyright ©1974, by Jean-Claude van Itallie; English version of Anton Chekhov’s Uncle Vanya, Copyright ©1994, by Jean-Claude van Itallie (Revised), Copyright ©1980, by Jean-Claude van Itallie; English version of Anton Chekhov’s Three Sisters, Copyright ©1994, by Jean-Claude van Itallie (Revised), Copyright ©1979, by Jean-Claude van Itallie; English version of Anton Chekhov’s The Cherry Orchard, Copyright ©1994, by Jean-Claude van Itallie (Second Revision), Copyright ©1979, by Jean-Claude van Itallie (Revised), Copyright ©1977, by Jean-Claude van Itallie

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form, by any means, electronic or mechanical including photocopying, recording, or any information storage or retrieval system now known or to be invented, without permission in writing from the publishers, except by a reviewer who wishes to quote brief passages in connection with a review written for inclusion in a magazine, newspaper or broadcast.

Caution: Professionals and amateurs are hereby warned that all performances of Jean-Claude van Itallie’s English versions of Anton Chekhov’s The Sea Gull, Uncle Vanya, Three Sisters, and The Cherry Orchard are subject to a royalty. They are fully protected under the copyright laws of the U.S.A. and of all countries covered by the International Copyright Union (including the Dominion of Canada and the rest of the British Commonwealth) and of all countries covered by the Pan American Copyright Convention and the Universal Copyright Convention, and of all countries with which the U.S. has reciprocal copyright relations. All rights, including professional, amateur, motion picture, recitation, lecturing, public reading, radio broadcasting, and television are strictly reserved. All inquiries concerning amateur production rights should be made to Dramatists Play Service, 440 Park Ave. South, NY, NY 10016. Inquiries concerning professional stage rights ( other than First Class rights) shouuld be made to Samuel French Inc., 45 West 25th St., NY, NY 10019. All other inquires concerning rights may be made to the author’s agent, Gilbert Parker, William Morris Agency, 1350 Avenue of the Americas, NY, NY 10019.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Chekhov, Anton Pavlovich, 1860-1904.

[Plays. English. Selections]

Chekhov : the major plays / English versions by Jean-Claude van Itallie

p. cm.

Includes bibliographical references.

9781476843124

I. Chekhov, Anton Pavlovich, 1860-1904—Translations into English. I. Van Itallie, Jean-Claude, 1936-II. Title.

PG3456.A19

1994

891.72’3-dc20

94-27070

CIP

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Table of Contents

The Sea Gull

Act I

Act II

Act III

Act IV

Uncle Vanya

Act I

Act II

Act III

Act IV

Three Sisters

Act One

Act II

Act III

Act IV

The Cherry Orchard

Act I

Act II

Act III

Act IV

Acknowledgments

I want to thank friends of these versions of Chekhov’s plays, so many friends that I know I won’t remember them all. They include performers, directors, producers, assistants, students, readers, editors, and other creative spirits who have helped in dif ferent ways over the years. A partial list includes Dan Seltzer, Leueen MacGrath, Joe Chaikin, Ellen Stewart, Andrei Serban, Irene Worth, Joseph Papp, Lynne Meadow, Robert Brustein, Vitaly Voulff, Tina Shepherd, David Wolpe, Didi Goldenbar, Louise Smith, Shanti Mohling, Lillian Butler, Laurie MacLoed, Alex Gildzen, Glenn Young, Wendy Gimbel, Lawrence Sacharow, Madeline Puzo, Cynthia Harris, Rosemary Quinn, Deborah Katz, Bill Coco, David Threlfall, Braham Murray, Judd Hirsch, Evangeline Morphos, Lynn Lorwin, Kim Mancuso, Janet Roberts, Gilbert Parker, Richard Gilman, Joyce Aaron, Eric Bentley, Gordon Rogoff, Gwen Fabricant, Stephanie Sills, Carol Fox Prescott, Peggy Ann Lloyd, Elizabeth Mailer and Craig Kayser.

Introduction

English has subtly evolved since I began my association with Chekhov two decades ago. Probably every translation should be revised every twenty years, so I’ve reworked the English of these versions for the new millennium and the Applause edition. I’ve polished the phrasing as if these were my own plays, being faithful to the rhythm of the characters’ voices in my mind’s ear. I believe I’m a better writer now. I’ve reduced subtle colloquialisms which I hadn’t noticed before (such as a lot of). I hope the language flows more smoothly.

Vitaly Voulff, the renowned Russian Chekhov scholar, and translator of Tennessee Williams into Russian, has kindly scoured each line of these versions for accuracy to the original. I am impressed that Vitaly actually knew Chekhov’s wife, the actress Olga Knipper.

I was teaching at Princeton in 1972 when Dan Seltzer, then Head of the Drama Department and the McCarter Theater, asked me to render a new version of The Sea Gull for a production at the McCarter (in which Dan was to play Sorin). I immediately voiced two objections: there were many existing translations, and I neither speak nor read Russian. Dan pushed a pile of books at me saying, Read some of these translations before you decide. Some, like the excellent one by Stark Young, were dated. Some were too literally British for an American production. Others, while faithful to the exact translation of each word, paid scant attention to rhythms of speech, making Chekhov seem obscure, pedantic, and, worst, unactable, the very opposite of what he is. Dan wanted a new version by an American playwright to be performed by Americans for a contemporary American audience. I agreed, provided Dan supply me with a literal translation by a Russian native. The father of Lou Criss, the director, ably obliged.

I found myself approaching my task like an actor. My objective was to imaginatively ‘become’ Chekhov, to enter his frame of mind in order to ‘speak’ his words in English. First I had to demystify him. If Chekhov and I were to collaborate, I had to remove him from his remote tower of genius, to see him as a friend. I needed to meet the person before I could work with the artist.

When, as an undergraduate at Harvard in the late fifties, I was introduced to Chekhov by reading him in what must have been an old and stilted translation, I found him barely accessible. Drawn to a more explosive kind of theatre, in the sixties I became a playwright in the new Off-Broadway movement. By the time Dan asked me to work on The Sea Gull, however, I was able to read Chekhov with a different eye. I looked to him now as a teacher, a co-laborer in the field. I remade his acquaintance by reading some of his letters. Finding him charming, full of common sense, compassionate and human, I encouraged myself to identify with him. Chekhov loved trees and living in the country (as do I). He found living in the country cheaper than living all year in Moscow. He loved to hear and tell stories about people he knew. Many of his friends were in the theatre. He had an aversion to dry intellectuality. A country doctor, he had to cope with a cholera epidemic. He spoke some French.

Now I read Chekhov’s plays as if they were the work of an avuncular friend, like Dr. Dorn who in Act One of The Sea Gull encourages Treplev’s writing, and sympathises with Masha’s tale of unrequited love.

I worked on The Sea Gull, and later the other three plays, with a specially-made literal English translation and a selection of French translations.

There is no single objectively ‘right’ way to say anything, of course. Meaning changes with choice of words and subtly spoken language. Working with more than one language reaffirms that while words point toward a reality, they aren’t it. French was my first language. It has a feminine quality of playful intimacy. Having a smaller vocabulary than English, phrases are sung for subtle meaning. Samuel Beckett wrote in French or English, then translated into the other language. He may have used translation as a sieve, distilling meaning to arrive at a poetically economical text.

My process was to read to myself a single phrase in both English and French, let its meaning ‘flow through’ me (that’s the image I had of what I was doing). Then, as the character, I would perform aloud a version of the phrase to my assistant (almost always an actor) who would write it down then read it back. Listening to the rhythm of the spoken phrase, I would refine it and speak it back again. We repeated the process for each speech, scene and act. My goal was to deliver Chekhov as fresh and alive as possible, without my own or idiomatic imposition. I wanted Chekhov in English to flow from the actors’ mouths like clear water.

As I do for my own plays, I continued to work during early rehearsals of first productions. I listened to the actors, making small refinements in phrasing the English. When in January, 1975 Joe Chaikin directed The Sea Gull at the Manhattan Theater Club in New York City (with Dan Seltzer again as a superb Sorin, and my dear friend, the late Leueen MacGrath, exquisitely playing Arkadina) we found the English in a couple of Trigorin’s monologues laborious, so I combed out some of the knots I had inadvertently placed there. On the other hand, when the incomparable Irene Worth played Ranevskaya in Andrei Serban’s production at Lincoln Center in 1977, she’d say to me, "I need another vowel here so I can make the sound of the emotion." She was always absolutely right. In returning to the Russian we discovered that the extra beat had been there all along.

Chekhov wrote of The Sea Gull, "I began it forte and finished it pianissimo." His plays seem to ‘breathe,’ alternating times of tension and release like a satisfying piece of music. He orchestrates the order of monologues, duets, trios, and group scenes. (We know that he actually edited with scissors and paste.)

In The Sea Gull Trigorin confesses to Nina that despite trying to keep up with social and political issues of the day, the only things he really describes well are landscapes. Starting a play, Chekhov may have been similarly inspired by an image of a familiar home. In that home he placed characters resembling people he knew.

How are Chekhov’s plays different from the melodramas of his immediate predecessors? Soap opera and melodrama also deal with suicide, mortgage foreclosure, unhappy love affairs, and evil sisters-in-law. Chekhov’s intention is different. Chekhov strikes deep chords while soap opera and melodrama do not. Intending to plumb the mysterious human heart, he listens with keen attention to his characters, to the rhythms and tones of their feelings.

Chekhov is a compassionate but sharp listener. He maintains what Henry James called middle distance from his characters, a loving detachment (as a good doctor should). His characters are not on stage merely to prove a point. They are fully dimensional and complex. The author doesn’t pretend to know everything about them. He sustains a questioning attitude, respects and listens to his characters rather than forcing them to speak information.

‘Pause’ repeatedly occurs in Chekhov’s stage directions. There’s that extraordinary moment in Act Two of The Cherry Orchard when everyone listens to what sounds like the faint chord of a broken string echoing far away. In the quiet the characters listen, and the audience listens with them. For that to happen, the playwright had to listen too. Chekhov listened to people’s voices, and to the silence between them. The gaps between thoughts are filled with drama. Reality asserts itself between words, literally between the lines. To ‘hear’ this reality we must listen from a correspondingly deep silent place within ourselves.

When reading these plays, listen with feeling to the characters. Resist, as their author did, the temptation to judge them too swiftly or too harshly.

You may find yourself laughing and crying at the same time, not knowing what to think.

Rowe, Massachusetts

January, 1995

A Word About Names

The character lists for each play are exactly as Chekhov wrote them. He sometimes introduces someone by one name, while in the text he may call them differently. This may confuse a reader in English (although not the audience which has the advantage of seeing the live actor on stage). While Voinitsky, Ivan Petrovich appears in the cast list of Uncle Vanya, on reading it may not be immediately evident that the loquacious Voinitsky is the title character, Vanya. But Chekhov’s apellations may tell us how close he felt to each character when he created the dramatis personae (which he apparently did before writing a play).

Introducing The Cherry Orchard, Chekhov writes that the play takes place on the estate of Lyubov Andreyvna. Lyubov Andreyvna translates as Lyubov, daughter of Andre. In the character list, Chekhov calls this lady Ranevskaya, Lyubov Andreyvna. Ranevsky was her dead husband’s last name. She is called Madame Ranevskaya by her servants, Lyubov Andreyevna by her friends, and nicknamed Lyuba by her brother. Each name suggests a different degree of formality or intimacy. Some upper class people enjoyed addressing others in French, as Vanya sometimes calls Yelena Hélène.

Ivan Petrovich, means Ivan, son of Pyotr, or John, son of Peter. Vanya is a nickname for Ivan, as Johnny is for John. (The play’s title could conceivably be translated as Uncle Johnny.)

The Sea Gull

In 1892 Chekhov bought his family an estate in Melikhovo where, in 1895, he wrote The Sea Gull in a small cottage he’d built on the property. He read the play aloud to a group of theatre artists in Moscow who reacted not unlike Arkadina to Treplyev’s play; they were accustomed to more melodramatic fare. The first production of The Sea Gull, in 1896, for reasons having nothing to do with the script, was a flop. Appalled by reactions which he felt as personal attacks, Chekhov fled St. Petersburg, announcing, Not if I live to be seven hundred will I write another play.

Nemirovich-Danchenko, co-founder with Stanislavsky of the new Moscow Art Theater, persuaded Chekhov to allow them to produce The Sea Gull. Olga Knipper, who played Arkadina, and later became Chekhov’s wife, describes the huge excitement the actors felt when Chekhov came to an early rehearsal at the Moscow Art. Stanislavsky played Trigorin. Meyerhold, perhaps the most innovative theatre director of the Soviet era, played Treplyev. The Sea Gull opened in Moscow on December 17th, 1898. When the curtain fell on the first act, Nemirovich-Danchenko writes, ...there was silence, utter silence... The actors held their breath, afraid they had failed. The silence lasted ...quite a long time .... Then, suddenly...as if a dam had burst or a bomb exploded...there was a deafening crash of applause .... The play was, as Chekhov read the next morning in the telegram sent to him in Yalta, a colossal success.

The Sea Gull may be Chekhov’s most personal play. It is about writing and writers, the theatre, sons, mothers and lovers. Treplyev’s confrontation with Arkadina owes something to Hamlet’s closet scene with his mother. Treplyev’s attempted suicide is likely based on a similar attempt by Chekhov’s painter friend, Levitan, whom Chekhov visited in a house in the Novgorod lake district. Chekhov’s personal voice is heard in Dorn’s compassion. For Nina’s ill-fated relationship with Trigorin, Chekhov probably drew on his brief affair with the young Lika Misinova, a friend of his sister Maria, and on Misinova’s subsequent affair with a Ukrainian writer, Potapenko, by whom she had a child. Trigorin’s least likeable characteristics may be based on Potapenko. Nina’s gift of a locket to Trigorin, with words from his book engraved on it, was inspired by a similar gift made to Chekhov by his friend Lydia Avilova.

It is surely Chekhov’s own note-taking and writing habits that Trigorin describes. Trigorin is middleaged, a famous and prolific novelist afraid he has lost touch with a certain passion. Chekhov the writer is also present in Treplyev, the young playwright who is so sensitive and artistically uncompromising he can hardly write down a word. After struggling over a short story, Treplyev finally exclaims, More and more I think it’s not a question of new forms or old forms. What matters is to allow what you write to come straight from the heart. Treplyev’s play within the play is usually directed only for farce; but as one who started writing in the theatrical avant-garde of the 1960’s, I believe, with Dorn, that there is some beauty in its sad solitary questioning of the purpose of life on earth. I’ve rendered it as eloquently as I can.

Because Chekhov borrowed specific traits from people he knew, his characters feel like family. One feels inclined to gossip about them, to speculate, for instance, about why Masha takes snuff, drinks vodka, always wears black, as Trigorin writes in his notebook. Chekhov provides us with a few provocative specifics while leaving space for our imagination to play, so we are drawn into the creative process ourselves (which may be partly why actors love to perform in Chekhov’s plays).

The Sea Gull’s principal story is of Nina, beloved of Treplyev, seduced by his mother’s lover, Trigorin. Nina, however wounded, is the most hope-filled character in The Sea Gull. Surviving the loss of her illusions, she prepares to travel by third class rail to the dismal town of Yelets where, despite all, she will act in a play. Secondary threads in The Sea Gull include Masha’s hopeless love for Treplyev, and her mother’s long-secret affair with Dorn.

But plot in Chekhov serves merely as bedrock for a succession of intimate moments. This play, set by a magic lake, has some of the qualities of a dream. If The Sea Gull were a melodrama we might learn that Dorn is really Masha’s father, and that Dorn has always been in love with Arkadina. In The Sea Gull such suspicions remain mysterious underpinnings. What is the symbolism of the sea gull? Is the sea gull Nina shot down by Trigorin? Treplyev abandoned by Nina? Treplyev suffocated by his mother? Treplyev himself? All are possibilities.

Uncle Vanya

Uncle Vanya is based on an earlier play by Chekhov, The Wood Demon, written in 1889. Chekhov finished Uncle Vanya in 1897 and it was first produced in the provinces where it was a great success.

In Uncle Vanya the setting again is a home, a country estate owned by Sonya, a young unmarried woman who with her bachelor uncle Vanya works to make the estate provide a good income for her father, a retired professor—a dried out prune, a talking parrot with rheumatism and migraine, bilious with Jealousy and envy... and his young second wife, Yelena. The house is often visited by the virile Doctor Astrov, an ardent conservationist, with whom Sonya is secretly in love. Astrov complains of a lack of cultured companionship, but his care of and advocacy for the dwindling Russian forests vitalizes him, makes him magnetic, and his words vivid and urgent. Today he would be an active protestor of the destruction of the rain forests.

Sonya, who does not consider herself pretty, confesses her love to the beautiful Yelena, who in turn uses Sonya’s confession to encourage Astrov herself. Yelena seems trapped by her own indolence, and, as Astrov tells her, she constitutes a glamorous delusive trap for others. Vanya, educated and remarkably intelligent, has lived his life on the estate with his niece and his old mother (who loves only to read literary articles), devoting himself to the support of the professor. Now that he realizes that the professor is a fraud, Vanya despairs that his own life has been wasted. He blames the professor and tries to kill him. Finally, uncle and niece are left much as they were, working together on the accounts.

At the end of Uncle Vanya, just as at the end of Three Sisters (Nina speaks of it, too, toward the end of The Sea Gull), when all other hope is lost, some characters feel there is still salvation in work. The characters who say so are all, like Chekhov himself, childless. As for any artist, work is also a child. An old Sufi saying proclaims: Unfortunate is the person who faces death without work to do. To Vanya and Sonya their work, however monotonous and mundane, is valuable because now, all illusions lost, they consciously choose to do it. Like Astrov, they give meaning to their lives by devoting themselves to being useful. However unglamorous, this ending is more bittersweet than tragic.

Three Sisters

Three Sisters was written in 1900 in the warm climate of Yalta where Chekhov, having had to sell his Melikhovo estate, and realizing that tuberculosis would likely cut short his life, had bought land and built a house. Three Sisters was written for the Moscow Art. There were many rewrites, including added lines for Masha who was to be played by Olga Knipper.

Three Sisters opened at the Moscow Art on January 31st, 1901. Meyerhold played Tuzenbach. One week before opening, Stanislavsky decided to play Vershinin,