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Serve up the suffering
The Trip's inventive, clever Three Sisters takes it to a new place — Torrey Mesa
Three Sisters at The Trip
Without Walls Festival: Three Sisters
- La Jolla Playhouse, 2910 La Jolla Village Drive, UCSD
- $29
In Anton Chekhov’s Three Sisters (1900), Lieutenant Vershinin wonders what the world will be like in 200 years. I wonder if Chekhov could imagine that, 115 years after it opened, a company would mount his masterpiece on a corporate tennis court, overlooking Torrey Pines South, and the Pacific beyond.
By all accounts, the La Jolla Playhouse’s recent Without Walls Festival was a huge success (the only criticism: next year, run it at least two weeks). Its purpose: remove theater from the four-wall box that’s contained it for centuries. Three Sisters must rank as one of the most “boxed” plays of all. It’s usually treated as a solemn, sepia-toned museum piece, rather than one of the most lively plays in theater.
But the long-suffering Prozorov sisters playing tennis? Yes. And Irina (Jenni Putney) has a killer overhand smash. The Trip’s inventive piece, adapted and directed by Tom Dugdale, serves the play, even restores much of its humor.
It’s definitely irreverent: a giant balloony tennis ball; Chebutykin, the army doctor, is a life-sized cutout leaning on the net; there are songs, some funny, one starkly moving (“And We Go On”), and dances. The cast sometimes whines and moans in actual — not acted — ways. The new site breaks the old physical walls; the irreverence clears the psychological pallet, like a sorbet, and provides a refreshing look at the familiar.
The sisters are still stuck in a nameless town too many miles from their beloved Moscow. Since their father died, a year to the day, they’ve lost an ordering principle. Life goes on, but shaken loose. Brother Andrey, for example, is gaining weight and has a growing penchant for gambling.
Into this malaise of anomie drifts Natasha Ivanovna (Claire Kaplan). At first she’s an outcast — check out that green belt on her tennis outfit; I mean, have you ever? Then she gradually takes control. In the end she’s so dictatorial they could subtitle Three Sisters “The Rise of Natasha.”
The site erases notions of a proscenium. The performance begins at sundown. The audience sits on the tennis court; two rows of black folding chairs run across the forecourt service line. Tennis balls bounce and bound, highlighted by Solyony (Matt Bradley) dumping a box of them on his head and Irina’s volley practice. Typical Trip humor: she returns about 15 in a row — pure machine, brain on hold — and she’s asked, “What are you thinking?”
Another boundary broken: the text is supposed to quote Lermontov, the dour Russian poet. No can do, someone shouts, looking at the audience in dismay, “that’s a lost reference.”
The location made for a one-in-a-gazillion moment. Near the end, as the soldiers leave the town, four Miramar jets roared overhead. Andrey (Patrick Riley) froze, a la the Starlight Bowl. Then, as if on cue, he said, “the town’s emptying out.”
The Trip’s ensemble work is up to its usual high standard. To a person, the cast is fluid and flexible. They perform in two styles: one wide enough for the outdoors; the other, in a splendid video reminiscent of Ingmar Bergman via Woody Allen’s Interiors, combines stark moments with stillness in long, close-up takes.
The piece is also “Chekhovian.” In Dostoevsky’s The Idiot, saintly Prince Mishkin “always felt sad at moments of great joy.”
Chekhov’s play unfolds like Mishkin’s heart: in the midst of despair, there’s always someone who couldn’t possibly be happier.
Here's something you might be interested in.
Serve up the suffering
The Trip's inventive, clever Three Sisters takes it to a new place — Torrey Mesa
Serve up the suffering
The Trip's inventive, clever Three Sisters takes it to a new place — Torrey Mesa
Three Sisters at The Trip
Without Walls Festival: Three Sisters
- La Jolla Playhouse, 2910 La Jolla Village Drive, UCSD
- $29
In Anton Chekhov’s Three Sisters (1900), Lieutenant Vershinin wonders what the world will be like in 200 years. I wonder if Chekhov could imagine that, 115 years after it opened, a company would mount his masterpiece on a corporate tennis court, overlooking Torrey Pines South, and the Pacific beyond.
By all accounts, the La Jolla Playhouse’s recent Without Walls Festival was a huge success (the only criticism: next year, run it at least two weeks). Its purpose: remove theater from the four-wall box that’s contained it for centuries. Three Sisters must rank as one of the most “boxed” plays of all. It’s usually treated as a solemn, sepia-toned museum piece, rather than one of the most lively plays in theater.
But the long-suffering Prozorov sisters playing tennis? Yes. And Irina (Jenni Putney) has a killer overhand smash. The Trip’s inventive piece, adapted and directed by Tom Dugdale, serves the play, even restores much of its humor.
It’s definitely irreverent: a giant balloony tennis ball; Chebutykin, the army doctor, is a life-sized cutout leaning on the net; there are songs, some funny, one starkly moving (“And We Go On”), and dances. The cast sometimes whines and moans in actual — not acted — ways. The new site breaks the old physical walls; the irreverence clears the psychological pallet, like a sorbet, and provides a refreshing look at the familiar.
The sisters are still stuck in a nameless town too many miles from their beloved Moscow. Since their father died, a year to the day, they’ve lost an ordering principle. Life goes on, but shaken loose. Brother Andrey, for example, is gaining weight and has a growing penchant for gambling.
Into this malaise of anomie drifts Natasha Ivanovna (Claire Kaplan). At first she’s an outcast — check out that green belt on her tennis outfit; I mean, have you ever? Then she gradually takes control. In the end she’s so dictatorial they could subtitle Three Sisters “The Rise of Natasha.”
The site erases notions of a proscenium. The performance begins at sundown. The audience sits on the tennis court; two rows of black folding chairs run across the forecourt service line. Tennis balls bounce and bound, highlighted by Solyony (Matt Bradley) dumping a box of them on his head and Irina’s volley practice. Typical Trip humor: she returns about 15 in a row — pure machine, brain on hold — and she’s asked, “What are you thinking?”
Another boundary broken: the text is supposed to quote Lermontov, the dour Russian poet. No can do, someone shouts, looking at the audience in dismay, “that’s a lost reference.”
The location made for a one-in-a-gazillion moment. Near the end, as the soldiers leave the town, four Miramar jets roared overhead. Andrey (Patrick Riley) froze, a la the Starlight Bowl. Then, as if on cue, he said, “the town’s emptying out.”
The Trip’s ensemble work is up to its usual high standard. To a person, the cast is fluid and flexible. They perform in two styles: one wide enough for the outdoors; the other, in a splendid video reminiscent of Ingmar Bergman via Woody Allen’s Interiors, combines stark moments with stillness in long, close-up takes.
The piece is also “Chekhovian.” In Dostoevsky’s The Idiot, saintly Prince Mishkin “always felt sad at moments of great joy.”
Chekhov’s play unfolds like Mishkin’s heart: in the midst of despair, there’s always someone who couldn’t possibly be happier.
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