Straight-ahead Chekhov
"Three Sisters"
2½ stars
out of four
Location: Gift Theatre, 4802 N. Milwaukee Ave., Chicago
Times: 8 p.m. Thursdays to Saturdays, 3 p.m. Sundays; through Sept. 30
Running time: About 2 hours, 40 minutes, including intermission
Parking: Street parking
Tickets: $20, $25
Box office: (773) 283-7071 or www.thegifttheatre.org
Rating: For teens and older
Not much happens in "Three Sisters." And what does happen -- romantic trysts, a fire, a duel -- occurs offstage. All talk, no action, that's Anton Chekhov. And the Russian playwright dishes up a whole lot of it, amply seasoned with angst and served with a side order of plot, in his 1901 tragicomedy, which emerges as more tragic than comic under Michael Patrick Thornton, director of Gift Theatre's able, resourcefully staged production.
The negligible plot doesn't drive this drama. It's driven by the characters' emotions, namely their disappointment over unhappy marriages and unfulfilling work; their despair over the transience of life; their failure to achieve their desires and their inability to answer the questions: Why are we here and what is life for? Thus they spend much of the four acts contemplating, debating and convincing themselves their delusions are real and the lives they settled for are sufficient. Expressing their frustration in the form of casual cruelties and flashes of temper, they make do as their expectations fade and their prospects dwindle. And that is the real tragedy at the heart of this play.
"Three Sisters" centers around the titular trio of Olga (Jenny Connell), a frustrated high school teacher; Masha (Calliope Porter), miserably married to the fussy Kulygin (Brendan Donaldson), a man she no longer respects; and young Irina (Hillary Clemens). Refined and well-educated, the once-privileged young women and their brother, Andrey (a dazed and haunted Paul D'Addario), moved with their battalion commander father to Russia's provincial countryside 11 years earlier.
A year after his death, bored and frustrated with country life, they long to return to the more cosmopolitan Moscow, where they imagine better times await. Meanwhile, Andrey romances a local girl, Natasha (Margaret Katch), the unspoiled innocent turned petty tyrant. At the same time, the sisters entertain soldiers from the battalion stationed nearby: alcoholic army doctor Chebutykin (Jack McCabe); Tuzenbach (the agreeable Kenny Mihlfried), a young baron in love with Irina; and the uncouth, embittered Solyony (Michael Booth), Tuzenbach's rival for Irina's affections; and Vershinin (John Kelley Connolly), the newly arrived commander.
Dan Conley's minimalist set dominated by marble pillars; Miles Polaski's astute sound design that allows us to hear props we never see (the recurring ticking of the unseen clock is especially effective); Branimira Ivanova's period costumes ranging from coarse peasant garb to bourgeoisie finery; and Heather Gilbert's wonderfully suggestive lighting combine for a minimalist production well-adapted to Gift's long, narrow space. With the exception of some slightly distracting staging early on, the clutter-free approach extends to the direction of this solidly executed if somewhat long production. Thornton does a nice job ratcheting up the tension (especially in the third act) and raising the emotional stakes, although the show could stand fewer pregnant pauses and portentous glances.
As for the acting, Clemens, who begins the play bathed in the brightest spotlight, delivers one of the brightest performances as winsome, naive Irina, who goes from fresh-faced to dour as her options diminish and her expectations go unfulfilled. Booth, whose expression is equal parts shame and scorn, deserves mention for his menacing, oafish Solyony as does Connolly for his ruddy, robust Vershinin, the pragmatist who finds satisfaction in work he hopes will benefit future generations.