Last night, I went to see a production of Chekhov's Three Sisters, performed in the original Russian under the aegis of the British company Cheek By Jowl. The cast were Russian/East European and surtitles were available for those unfamiliar with the play (though I can't think that many in the audience will have been first-timers).
All in all, it was worthwhile, though I have to confess that a play that I've always found almost unbearably moving didn't really move me at all in this performance.....that may have been something to do with the way I was feeling, though it probably had more to do with the fact that this was 'real Chekhov', not A.C. seen through a British/western filter. Chekhov's own strictures on performance (quoted in the programme) had been rigorously adhered to.....he wanted long sections of the play to be 'played for laughs' and for his actors to evince 'anger but no sadness'. This flies in the face of our received thoughts on how the play should be done......Masha declared with a beaming face 'My life is a failure' and Andreyushka played his withering 'denuniciation' of small town life in the provinces almost like a stand-up routine. Which made it refreshing (there is nothing more alienating in the theatre than a lot of moaning), if somewhat jarring.
It was, though, a great pleasure to hear the Russian text spoken: I don't speak the language, but no one could deny that its a beautiful one to listen to.
All of which made me wonder whether I would actually want to see a foreign classic in translation ever again......particularly with the recent fashion for 'adapting' the classics, transplanting them into new surroudings and 'Anglicising' the characters ( a recent Three Sisters was transplanted to inter-war Liverpool). Worse is the fashion for making the language 'contemporary', with all the gratuitous swearing and 'yoofspeak' that that implies (the National Theatre seems determined not to perform Russian classics unless they're 'adapted' by Andrew Upton - which means I won't be seeing their Cherry Orchard, after the mess he made of Gorky's Philistines a few years back).
Any thoughts on translations of plays?
All in all, it was worthwhile, though I have to confess that a play that I've always found almost unbearably moving didn't really move me at all in this performance.....that may have been something to do with the way I was feeling, though it probably had more to do with the fact that this was 'real Chekhov', not A.C. seen through a British/western filter. Chekhov's own strictures on performance (quoted in the programme) had been rigorously adhered to.....he wanted long sections of the play to be 'played for laughs' and for his actors to evince 'anger but no sadness'. This flies in the face of our received thoughts on how the play should be done......Masha declared with a beaming face 'My life is a failure' and Andreyushka played his withering 'denuniciation' of small town life in the provinces almost like a stand-up routine. Which made it refreshing (there is nothing more alienating in the theatre than a lot of moaning), if somewhat jarring.
It was, though, a great pleasure to hear the Russian text spoken: I don't speak the language, but no one could deny that its a beautiful one to listen to.
All of which made me wonder whether I would actually want to see a foreign classic in translation ever again......particularly with the recent fashion for 'adapting' the classics, transplanting them into new surroudings and 'Anglicising' the characters ( a recent Three Sisters was transplanted to inter-war Liverpool). Worse is the fashion for making the language 'contemporary', with all the gratuitous swearing and 'yoofspeak' that that implies (the National Theatre seems determined not to perform Russian classics unless they're 'adapted' by Andrew Upton - which means I won't be seeing their Cherry Orchard, after the mess he made of Gorky's Philistines a few years back).
Any thoughts on translations of plays?
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