Uncle Vanya

Red Stitch Actors Theatre has fine form bringing new and unfamiliar works to the stage. But, in its 15-years as Melbourne's leading independent theatre company, the great masterworks of the canon have been a far rarer presence on its billing. The decision to end its 2016 season with Anton Chekhov's Uncle Vanya (albeit in a recent adaptation by American playwright Annie Baker) may have raised some eyebrows among Red Stitch regulars, but any naysayers wondering just what a dead, white, European playwright could possibly have to say to a 21st-century Australian audience, should make the trip to St Kilda to see this show.

Under the thoroughly assured direction of Nadia Tass, this production achieves a rare combo: a superbly skilled performance that is technically accomplished, emotionally alert, intellectually and historically informed while also relevant to the now. At present, contemporary adaptations of classics are somewhat in vogue in Australia, particularly amongst the major State theatre companies. These can sometimes make such efforts to breathe new life into old texts that they throw the baby out with the bathwater, losing the essence of their source material. Baker's attentive handling of Chekhov, paired with the sensitivity of Tass, proves that the revered and the radical don't have to be mutually exclusive.

This is no mean feat. Chekov strongly believed that the stage should be a mirror of the world. In his own words, his plays were intended to reflect life "exactly as it is, and people as they are, not on stilts." This is both a perk and pitfall of his storytelling. There are no cataclysms or great tragedies to throw his characters into turmoil, and no convenient resolutions or laudable quests to raise them back up. Instead, it's a gnawing, existentially bleak trudge to the grave that his protagonists face. Of course, this is the ultimate fate of us all, but being reminded of our mortality isn't most people's idea of a good time, and so Chekhov's plays, rightly or wrongly, have a reputation as being hard work, best left to experienced theatre aficionados with a high tolerance for misery.

Annie Baker challenges that perception. Her translation of Uncle Vanya is not so much an adaptation as it is a rejuvenation, smoothing out the wrinkles of any inaccessible, overly insistent Russianness or arcane vocabulary to reveal an urgency to the narrative. That's not to say this is a cliched 21st-century reboot. There are no iPhones, tweets, "shits", "fucks" or any other corny colloquialisms trying to shoehorn in an exciting thunderclap of pop-culture. We are still on an estate in the remote Russian countryside in the late 1800s and the circumstances and dynamics of the original plot remain completely intact.

What Baker offers goes beyond the cosmetic - her treatment of Chekhov is built on a sincere reverence of the source material. She understands that geography and historical place are as vital to this narrative as the interpersonal dynamics it explores. The power of that insight has yielded an emotional credibility in her writing that allows us to empathise and engage with the characters before us without having to supplant them with present day allegories. This is the same for the numerous ecological references in the play. They make a clear connection to the increasingly concerning threat of global warming, but this isn't jammed down the audience's throat. Instead, the poetry of Astrov's love for the forest acts as a bridge between our present understanding of environmental activism and the romantic sentimentality of a bygone century.

But the success of Red Stitch's production of Baker's Chekhov isn't just kudos to the script. Uncle Vanya is set on a sprawling, remote farmstead, isolated in the vast Russian hinterland. It questions and explores philosophies of colossal magnitudes, and yet, for all its epic scope, this is a story about intimacy and fine psychological detail. Director Nadia Tass takes advantage of the limited space at the Red Stitch Actors Theatre to amplify the claustrophobia and stir-up the emotional undercurrents churning just below the surface. Sophie Woodward's design is another cleverly knowing element, with its beige, deliberately monotonous walls acting as a literal expression of the boredom and isolation the characters are trapped by.

The cast is unanimously stellar and it's a great testament to the advantages of the ensemble model of this theatre company. Uncle Vanya builds its story of yearning dissatisfaction and regret on the foundation of rusted-on relationships, and the feeling of lived-in authenticity this cast achieves is surely rooted in their real-world understanding of each other, developed over multiple productions.

Ben Pendergast as the mentally and sexual frustrated doctor Astrov, Red Stitch founder David Whiteley in the title role, Eva Seymour's level-headed yet lonely Sonya and Rosie Lockhart's unwilling seductress Yelena offer a masterclass in piercing subtext. The pressure of their wrought, longing desperation builds beneath the surface until their passive aggressive, hokey pleasantries can no longer hide the extremes of their suppressed desires. Each offers a different outpouring when the tension is finally released. Vanya is moved to violence, Astrov to crushing acquiescence. Yelena is compelled to flee while Sonya dissolves in the fits of giddy, laugher-cut tears, as if her mind is unable to choose between elation or despair.

Marta Kaczmarek as the sage, old nanny, Marina, is a surprisingly galvanising presence. Usually just a minor character, her cheerfully reassuring and protective gestures, as insubstantial as they might appear, offer a counterpoint of soothing, nurturing selflessness that prevents the play's conclusion from being unremittingly grim. As Sonya and Vanya accept their dismal future, her gentle, contented presence hints at the catharsis that being resigned to their fate could bring.

Red Stitch Actors Theatre presents Uncle Vanya, to 17 Dec.