The Nobility of the Quotidian
Conor McPherson's adaptation of Chekhov's "Uncle Vanya"
A few days ago, I had the great pleasure of watching a performance of Conor McPherson’s adaptation of Chekhov’s Uncle Vanya starring Toby Jones and Richard Armitage. The original production had been shut down with the arrival of the pandemic, and a few months later the cast reassembled at the Harold Pinter Theatre in London to film this production, which was streaming as part of the Great Performances series on PBS. It was truly extraordinary. The Guardian review called it “perfect Chekhov,” and I confess that I am inclined to consider it definitive.
Toby Jones received a great deal of deserved praise for his performance as Vanya, but the entire cast is equally strong. They make their characters fully-rounded, and resist making acting choices that weight the scales in how we judge them. I was particularly taken with Aimee Lou Wood’s performance as the young Sonya, who the Guardian referred to as “goofy,” but who I would argue stands as the psychological and philosophical center of the play. She is someone who is capable of fully seeing the pain and frustration of every character, of encouraging them to express it, and who suffers from being unable to do anything to help them except fully sympathize. Her final monologue, which ends the play, is delivered with such heartfelt belief that one cannot help but be lifted in the same way that all the characters seem to be.
It is a vision of the miracle of the quotidian lived in the shadow of a sense of disappointment, but lived nonetheless with intensity and appreciation for having had the opportunity. She tells people the things they need to hear—that they are seen, that their struggles have been worthwhile, and that their suffering will end in rest—and she tells them using the words that perhaps they have never spoken aloud but have only felt.
I find Chekhov’s message ambiguous, given what seems to be his disgust at people who allow themselves to moulder because they lack the courage to pursue their desires or because they choose to sacrifice those desires in order to support those who they feel are extraordinary. This production, however, allows us to fully experience their stuckness while not encouraging us to condemn them for it, but rather to see the nobility in their daily actions. In fact, from my perspective, the characters who most want to “make a dent in the universe” (e.g., the Professor, certainly, and to some extent Dr. Astrov) are actually the least interesting, while those who simply care for others, take care of a place, have a rich interior life that makes them glow. Many willbe taken by the moments when a character explodes (see below Vanya’s angry retort to the news that the Professor plans to sell the estate upon which he and the others have lived for so long), but I was more touched by those moments when a character almost makes a connection with another, almost attains some small dream, but then, well, doesn’t quite. Chekhov is a playwright of the nobility of the almost.
In our culture, we put too much emphasis on achieving our goals, realizing our purpose, triumphing, succeeding, and in some ways Chekhov’s characters are plagued by those same expectations. They dream of doing and feeling Big Things, and torment themselves because their lives are made up of Little Things. As a result they fail to recognize the beauty that surrounds them. And maybe that’s why I find Sonya’s final monologue so beautiful. She recognizes that life is filled with struggle and disappointment and suffering, but she also recognizes that there is beauty and fullness within those moments. As she speaks, she never once lets go of Vanya’s arm, and while his gaze goes inward, her eyes are wide as if to let him see the strength of her love of life and of those who share it with her. And when all is said and done, isn’t that all we need, really?
In this clip, Vanya finally expresses his frustration.