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Showing posts with label three sisters. Show all posts
Showing posts with label three sisters. Show all posts

Friday, February 22, 2013

Off and Running

Vershinin and Masha share a private moment.
We're right in the middle of the run. Tonight marks the first performance after several dark nights. I can say, in all honesty, the cast deserved a break and (based on last night's energetic pick-up rehearsal) they are eager to return to the stage and will bring to closing weekend a rediscovered love of this intricately written depiction of family life.

I enjoyed watching the opening weekend of performances . . . it felt good to finally sit back and view the show as an audience member rather than as a director. It's difficult to completely remove myself from that role, of course, but it does help that I'm no longer scribbling notes in the dark, looking for things to "fix." Handing the show off completely to a crackerjack stage manager, run-crew, and dedicated group of actors is everything I could ask for. It's the golden, yet bittersweet, moment directors work for. There's that point where I have to step back completely and say, "They don't need me anymore." (Fly little birds, fly! - I often joke to myself.) Bittersweet - always.

Tuzenbach expresses his undying devotion to Irina.
I believe that any play worth watching is a culmination of little moments between characters, the discoveries that they make through dialogue and interaction. That seems to be ever amplified within the context of a Chekhov play. There are no heroes or villains in this world. There isn't even a definable protagonist. Instead, we are dropped in to glimpse upon a family for a few minutes over a period of several years. The audience only gets those few precious isolated moments to understand the Prozorovs and their friends.

While Chekhov suggests how the story develops between the scenes we see, we never actually do know how Masha and Kulygin interact when they are alone together, what Tuzenbach is like when he is not attempting to woo Irina, or even what Vershinin's unhappy wife is truly like. In true realism fashion, we are presented with an impression and then given the burden of responsibility to accept that human beings and relationships are far more complicated that anything we can see in two hours upon a stage. This is part of the brilliance of Three Sisters. We witness the changes in the characters and are left to assume how they got there. It's like attempting to piece together the full account of someone's life based solely upon a few random Facebook posts.

"If only we knew. If only we knew."
There are moments in this play where the audience will love each character and moments where they will hate them. These people are selfish, petty, and sometimes cruel. And yet they possess an immense capacity for love, humor, and hope. They're just like us. Are there lessons to be learned from the Prozorovs? I don't know if I would say that, but I do believe that there is something in this play that will resonate with everyone whether it is in Anfisa's fear of being left alone, Andrei's sense of failure, Masha's self-imposed unhappiness, Vershinin's narcissism, or any one of the many, many moments that put together this poignant picture of life.

One of my favorite acting teachers once said, "We go to the theatre to watch people go on journeys that we are too afraid to go on ourselves." I have certainly enjoyed this journey as I have gotten to know the Prozorovs for nearly a year now. I hope that in this second weekend of performances their journey will resonate with the audiences who have yet to see it.

Monday, February 4, 2013

Three Sisters Rehearsal Journal


Our beautiful poster design by Nathan Langner.
Choosing Happiness
As I have gotten to know these characters more intimately over the past few weeks, I have come to love and resent them. They are just so maddeningly human. Each person becomes his or her own worst enemy as a desire for happiness, security, and passion leads them to make selfish, and sometimes, self-destructive choices.

I was in the process of writing out the press release for the show when it occurred to me that Three Sisters is a perfect show for college students - not just to act in, but to see. It's essentially a show about growing up and being in the position to make decisions of consequence. Will they choose to pursue an unattainable fantasy? Will they choose to devote themselves to others? Will they choose to live happily within the confines of reality? Will they choose to challenge themselves or will they choose to settle? The play begins a year after the Prozorov patriarch, a respected army general, passed away. For the first time Andrei, Olga, Masha, and Irina are left with complete freedom to define their own future paths without the influence of a parent. As educated and privileged young adults, all in their 20s or early 30s, they have all the advantages in the world, yet as usually happens in Chekhov's world, they won't live up to their potential because they will chase after the impossible.

"The present is so awful, but when I think of the future I feel good again."
Andrei
Andrei, as the only son in the family, was likely doted on by his mother while she was alive. Andrei could do no wrong. The sisters adore him and have high expectations that he will become a professor in Moscow. They idealize their father and now Andrei faces the pressure of carrying on the Prozorov mantle. Andrei shows nothing but passion and promise. From the opening scene of the play, however, there is a distinct contrast between how the sisters talk about him, and how he sees himself.

Irina thinks very highly of her older brother, listing off his accomplishment to a less-than-impressed Vershinin. But, Andrei's first appearance on stage reveals a subtle self doubt. He makes excuses for having gained weight in the last year and he dismisses his extensive education as something his father had "overloaded" them with. By the end of the scene, Andrei proposes to his girlfriend, Natasha, who the sisters view as beneath him. Natasha enters as sweet, naive, and very unsure of herself. By the second scene, eighteen months later, Natasha has transformed into a terrifyingly domineering presence. As Natasha's power grows, Andrei weakens. A disillusioned Irina admits sadly, "That woman has taken our Andrei and turned him into a shallow, petty old fogy." He retreats to gambling, his violin, and self-indulgent philosophical musings over his spoiled youth, rather than regaining control of his life. In the play's last scene, Masha watches her brother pushing baby Sophie in a pram and muses, "All our hopes - smashed. Once there was a bell that thousands helped to hoist. Money was no object, no effort was spared. And suddenly it fell and shattered. All at once, just like that. That's how it was with Andrei."

Is there hope for Andrei or not? He wallows in self-pity by the end of the play, however, there is indication he might move to change and grow. Perhaps, he is merely facing an early-mid-life-crisis. He clearly loves his children and he is devoted to his wife. Does this make him pathetic or noble? Chekhov does not provide a clear answer, but he does suggest that Andrei's failures are not his own, but what his family perceives as failures. A year after his father's death he gained weight, "as though my body had been freed from an oppressive burden" and it seems his father wanted him to pursue a "scholarly career." His disappointments with himself stem from the fact that he didn't live up to the expectations set up by his father and, in his death, carried on by his sisters. What Andrei really fights for, supports, and wants from life, he gets by the end of the first scene. He wanted to marry Natasha and he defends her throughout the play, no matter how cruel she becomes. By the end of the play, he is at the cusp of becoming the man he wants to be - in spite of the disapproval of others.

 
"I'd marry anyone who asked me so long as he was decent. I'd even marry an old man."
Olga
Olga, the eldest sisters, bears burdens her other siblings do not. In the opening scene, at twenty-eight, she is considered an old maid. She works and heads the household, lamenting, "All's well in God's world, of course, but I do have the feeling that if I'd married and could have stayed home all day things would have been better." She falls into that classic Chekhovian trap of dwelling on the impossible and her actions now are determined by past events - in this case the death of her mother and their move from Moscow.

They left Moscow eleven years before the beginning of the play with their father. Olga, as the eldest, would have been made the head of the household and responsible for mothering Irina and Masha. She idealizes her father and bears some resentment for her mother. There is some suggestion that Olga's sense of duty to her family caused her to reject a proposal when she was younger. Years later, she regrets that choice and does everything she can to encourage Irina to not make the same mistake. "People don't marry for love, you know, they marry out of duty." Older and wiser, Olga has learned a harsh lesson about idealizing love and longs for the practicality of partnership.

Olga also resists the idea of work. She works out of a sense of duty to her family, but it is not a life she would have chosen. She would have been perfectly happy living her life as the head of a household, and through the play becomes increasingly tense and frustrated as Natasha usurps her role. Once Andrei marries, Olga is displaced from her comfortable role in the family unit, she loses her identity and her status within the home - the only part of her life that gave her purpose and peace. By the end of the play, as the headmistress, she lives at the school and has no escape back into the comfort that her role of privilege once gave her. She is unhappy, yet she seems to be close to self-discovery that may allow her to choose some sort of happiness within the confines of reality. "Our lives aren't over, dear sisters, we shall go on living." Where there is life, there is hope, and perhaps now Olga will be forced to seek it.








"When you take your happiness in snatches, in bits and pieces, and lose it, as I'm about to, you gradually turn hard and malicious."
Masha
The middle sister is sensitive, passionate, moody, and dramatic. Masha's passion for life is in constant conflict with her reality and this eventually drives her to carry on an affair rather openly in front of her utterly devoted and kind husband. Masha's choice to marry Kulygin seems motivated by fear as she watched Olga grow old before her time. Masha, terrified to become an old maid like her sister, married at eighteen - likely the first man who asked her. She confesses to Vershinin, "I was afraid of my husband because he was a schoolmaster and I'd just finished school. He seemed oh so learned then, so clever and dignified. Not anymore, sorry to say." To a certain degree, Masha was intimidated by Kulygin's intellect and authority. An older man, established in his career, must have seemed a logical match for the intelligent, young woman. She chose to marry a man who reminded her of her brother - a scholar - only to be disappointed.

Several years later, Masha is full of regret and longs for a man like her father, a military leader. Before Masha and Vershinin's relationship is consummated, she comments, "It may not be the same everywhere, but here in our town the most decent, noble, and cultured people belong to the military."  Bored with her life in her mid-twenties and frustrated with her choices, she seizes the first opportunity for excitement that walks through the door. Vershinin is new, dashing, exciting, and like Masha, unhappily married. Vershinin becomes the outlet for Masha's disappointment and she idealizes him to the point that she cannot see how selfish he truly is. Masha gives Vershinin what he desperately wants . . . constant attention and adoration. Masha chooses to please herself rather satisfy any sense of duty. For a brief time, she has what she wants - passion, romance, and a little scandal. In the end, however, she must go back to the way things were and settle back down into her role as wife.

She is a complicated character in that she is very self-absorbed, moody, arrogant, and sometimes cruel to people she believes to be beneath her. It's easy to see Masha as extremely unsympathetic. But, she isn't a bad person, so much that she is an immature person going through the process of growing up and learning to empathize with others. Her knowledge of love and life has been so far motivated by fear and loss. She married very young and, later regretful of her choice, she retreated into books, poetry, and philosophy as her new "reality." Vershinin awakened something in her she did not expect or recognize. When she can no longer hide the affair, she confesses to her sisters what they already knew. "In a novel it all seems to obvious and trite. Then you fall in love yourself, and you realize nobody knows a thing, we each have to make our own decisions." This is probably Masha's most honest moment in the play, where she begins to understand she has to take responsibility for the rest of her life. In the end, the affair ends. Vershinin's battery is leaving town. Would Masha have ended the affair by choice? It's hard to say. But when it does end, she is quick to accept her new reality and perhaps accept Kulygin's love and devotion for her.

"I'll be your wife, your faithful, obedient wife, but I don't feel any love."















Irina
While Olga's greatest regret is never marrying and spending her life working outside the home, Masha's greatest regret is marrying the wrong man. Irina's actions through the play are consistently motivated by these two sources of fear and this fear overpowers her ability to rationalize her own feelings and embrace the possibility of happiness.

At the beginning of the play, Irina is turning twenty, already older than Masha was when she married Kulygin. Irina, unlike Masha, actively chooses to be single in spite of having a variety of suitors. The most likely candidate for a husband is the baron Tuzenbach who is kindly, charming, and completely devoted to Irina. They have a friendship and an easy repoire throughout the play. While, in public and private settings, she treats other men with a level of formality, Tuzenbach is different. She is open and familiar with him, but continues to resist the idea of marrying him. Their first private exchange reveals some insight into the apparent contradiction:

TUZENBACH: Let me be near you a while. What are you thinking about? You're twenty, I'm not thirty yet. Picture all the years ahead of us. A long, procession of days full of my love for you . . .

IRINA: Don't talk to me about love, Nikolai Lvovich.

TUZENBACH: I have a passionate longing for life. I long to struggle, to work, and deep inside me that longing has merged with my love for you Irina. And then, you're so beautiful that life seems beautiful too! What are you thinking about?

IRINA: You say that life seems beautiful. Yes, but what if it no more than seems so? Life hasn't been beautiful for my sisters and me. It's stifled us, like a weed . . . Now I'm crying. I mustn't. Work- that's what I need. Work. The reason we're so unhappy and take such a gloomy view of life is that we don't know what work is. We come from people who had nothing but contempt for work.

Living out in the country has cut Irina and her sisters from opportunity, and Irina over-intellectualizes and doubts everything she feels. While their father encouraged education in all of his children, it has gone to waste in the limited chances they have to apply what they know. Instead of using their learning in any practical setting, the siblings sit around the house and philosophize themselves into one existential crisis after another. Irina's actions are always motivated by fear - fear of become either like Masha (married off young and desperately unhappy) or like Olga (unmarried, working, and desperately unhappy). Irina's desire to delay marriage is an attempt to avoid becoming like Masha, but her desire for work seems to contradict her fear of being like Olga. Irina's view on work, however, is much different than her sister's. She sees Olga as one of these people who was raised to have "nothing but contempt for work." In many ways, she believes Olga chooses unhappiness by not finding pleasure in a life of service to others. She believes she is different and that, through work and contributing to society she will find happiness.

This is not at all in conflict with Tuzenbach's own desire for work. He repeatedly articulates the value of work and his contempt for being born to a privileged class. He and Irina have the same world view and the same vision for life. Given these factors, Irina's reluctance to marry seems completely irrational, after all Tuzenbach is her friend, her confidante, and her ticket out of this small town and meaningless existence. It's not stubbornness on Irina's part, it's that she really believes that she does not love him and she fears a loveless marriage. This is the true tragedy of Irina's character. It's not that she doesn't love Tuzenbach, it's that she doesn't really know what love is and how it's "supposed" to feel. In Act III, Olga encourages Irina to "marry the baron" out of duty rather than love. Irina cries out, "I'd been waiting for us to move to Moscow, thinking I'd meet my true love there. I dreamt about him, loved him . . . But now I see it's nonsense, pure nonsense." Irina's notions of passion and "true love" are the fantasies of a young woman believing that love and romance are the same thing. By the end of the scene, Irina relents, deciding it would be better to marry the baron than to be alone.

Act IV introduces a more confident Irina. It is the eve of her marriage to Tuzenbach. She is ready to start a new career as a teacher and to become a wife. Irina, it seems, is ready to choose a happiness for herself, but something hangs over the heads of the would-be lovers. Tuzenbach seems tense and uneasy where through the play he has been hopeful, passionate, and confident in his choices. He has, unknown to Irina, committed to a dual with Solyony. In their last moment together on stage, a nervous Tuzenbach tries to get Irina to confess a passion for him, but she refuses:

TUZENBACH: Tomorrow I'll be taking you away. We'll work, we'll be rich, all my dreams will come alive. You'll be happy. There's only one thing missing, one thing. You don't love me.

IRINA: I haven't got it in me. I'll be your wife, your faithful, obedient wife, but I don't feel any love, and there's nothing I can do about it. I've never been in love. I've dreamt of it day and night, but my heart is like a fine piano no one can play because the key is lost.

Her reaction is harsh and does not reflect what she does feel, but cannot articulate. Earlier in the scene, Irina describes her feelings to Chebutykin and Kulygin, "When the baron asked for  my hand, well, I thought is over and decided to say yes. He's a good man, very good, extraordinarily good . . . And suddenly I felt my soul had wings. I brightened up, breathed easy, felt ready to work again . . ." The feelings of elation and peace Irina experienced are certainly those of love and affection for Tuzenbach and a knowledge that she was making the right decision. Yet she cannot admit these feelings to her fiance when he asks because she has spent so much of her life idealizing love that when she has it (and even feels it), she cannot recognize the feeling. It's not that "the key is lost" - it's that she doesn't even understand what the key looks like. Irina has fallen in love with a fantasy of love and when the reality of love's promise and pain finally occurs to her, it is too late.

The tensions between reality and fantasy influence the motivations and actions of all the characters in the play. The consequences for Irina are, unfortunately, life and death. Her journey beyond the play hints of being one of acceptance of reality and she reaffirms her desire to work and service to others.

Thursday, January 3, 2013

Three Sisters: References and Glossary


ALEKO: The hero of the romantic verse tale “The Gypsies” by Pushkin. Aleko becomes disillusioned with Russian civilization and goes off to live amongst the gypsies. He falls in love with a gypsy girl and commits a murder out of jealousy.

TUSENBACH: What’s Aleko got to do with it? (150)

ALUM: A chemical compound and a class of compounds. Likely Chebutykin’s referenced is to potassium alum – the chemical compound for his hair tonic recipe.

CHEBUTYKIN: Now, as I was saying, you cork the bottle and stick a glass tube through the cork . . . Then you take a pinch of alum – plain ordinary alum . . . (122).


AMO, AMAS, AMAT; AMAMUS, AMATIS, AMANT: The basic Latin conjugations of the verb amare, to love. “I love, thou lovest, he, she, or it loves, we love, you love, they love.”

KULYGIN: I’ll be off in a minute . . . What a fine, wonderful wife I have . . . And oh, how I love you, you and you alone . . .

MASHA: Amo, amas, amat; amamus, amatis, amant (165).

BALZAC WAS MARRIED IN BERDICHEV: The French novelist Honoré de Balzac was married to Ewelyna Hanska in Berdichev several months before he died in 1850.

CHEBUTYKIN: Balzac was married in Berdichev (146).

CHEKHARTMA: Tusenbach mis-speaks, it’s correctly “chikhartma,” a Caucasian soup of lamb or chicken flavored with coriander and saffron.

TUSENBAH: And the food they served was authentic Caucasian: an onion soup and chekhartma for the meat course (150).

CHEREMSHA: A sharp-edged leek or form of wild garlic.

SOLYONY: Cheremsha isn’t meat; it’s a plant in the onion family (150).

DARK VODKA: A colored vodka distilled with an herbal extract called catechu to make its distinct hue. Clear vodkas generally have little flavor while dark vodkas tend to bear notes of berry, citrus, or other spices.

VERSHININ: I think I’ll have some of that dark vodka . . . (134).

GERMAN STREET: A street in the German Quarter in the northeast of Moscow. The district began to be inhabited by European immigrants in the mid-16th century who the Russians referred to collectively as “Germans.” After the fire in 1812, most residents left, properties changed hands, and it become inhabited by merchants and craftsmen.

VERSHININ: And German Street for a time. I would walk from there to the Red Barracks.

NIKOLAI GOGOL: A 19th century Russian dramatist, novelist, and short story writer. He was a contributor to the development of Russian naturalism and realism. His writings were essentially observations of real life. His most influential works include Dead Souls and The Government Inspector. Chekhov quotes Gogol extensively in The Seagull.

Masha quotes from the last sentence of “Story of How Ivan Ivanovich and Ivan Nikiforovich Fell Out” (1832)

MASHA: As Gogol said, “Life on earth’s an awful bore, my friends.”

A GREEN OAK STANDS: Masha recites lines from the Alexander Pushkin 1820 long poem Ruslan and Lyudmila. The poem is an epic fairy tale of the abduction of the daughter of a prince by an evil wizard and the attempt a brave knight makes to rescue her.

Pushkin was born into the Russian nobility in Moscow in 1799. His work is characteristic of Russian Romantic literature. In his short life he was quite prolific leaving behind examples of lyric poetry, narrative poetry, the novel, short stories, drama, and personal letters. He is sometimes considered the “Father of Modern Russian Literature.” He was fatally wounded in a dual in 1837.

His dark, passionate, and introspective style fits in with Masha’s moodiness. It is fitting she recites, with longing, passages of his poetry.

MASHA: A green oak stands upon a firth,
A chain of gold hangs round its trunk . . . (123)

HE NE’ER HAD TIME TO SAY A PRAYER: A quotation from the fable “The Peasant and the Farmhand” by Ivan Krylov (1768-1844). Many of his fables are loosely based on the work of Aesop. He often satirizes incompetent bureaucracy, which he felt stifled social progress in the late 18th and early 19th centuries.

SOLYONY: He ne’er had time to say a prayer,
When he was sat on by the bear. (124)

IL NE FAUT PAS FAIRE DU BRUIT: More bad French from Natasha: “Don’t make any noise. Sophie is already asleep. You are a bear!”

NATASHA: Who’s that talking so loud out there? Is it you, Andrei? You’ll wake up baby Sophie. Il ne pas faire du bruit, la Sophie est dormeé déjà. Vous êtes un ours (183).

I MAY BE STRANGE: A quotation from the comedy Woe From Wit by Aleksandr Griboedov. The line comes from the protagonist who opposes Moscow’s high society.

SOLYONY: “I may be strange, but then who is not? . . . Aleko, be not wroth!” (150)

IT PARAIT QUE MON BOBIK DÉJÀ NE DORT PAS: Bad French on Natasha’s part: “It seems my Bobik is already not asleep.”

JE VOUS PRIE, PARDONNEZ-MOI, MARIE, MAIS VOUS AVEZ DES MANIÈRES UN PEU GROSSIÈRES: French for “Please, forgive me, Marie, but you have rather rude manners. Speaking French would be common in noble Russian intellectual circles, but Natasha’s use is pretentious and full of mistakes. She should say “je vous en prie.”

KOCHANE: Polish for “dearest.”

KULYGIN: And your Polish wife will throw her arms around you and call you “kochane”! (173)

KOPECK: A measurement of Russian currency, approximately 1/100 of a ruble.

MASHA: Here he is . . . Has he paid his rent?

IRINA: No, not a kopeck for eight months. Must have forgotten (144).

LERMONTOV: A reference to Mikhail Yuryevich Lermontov (1814-1841), an important Russian Romantic lyric poet. He was exiled twice and eventually killed in a duel. Chekhov later wrote that Solyony only thinks he looks like Lermontov, but this is only in his mind.

SOLYONY: I’ve never had anything against you, Baron. It’s just that I have the temperament of a Lermontov. I even look a bit like Lermontov . . . Or so I’m told (150).

MAIDEN’S PRAYER: A sentimental piano piece by the Polish composer T. Badarzewska-Baranovskaia (1838-1862). An incredibly easy piece to play.

IRINA: By tomorrow night I’ll no longer have to listen to that “Maiden’s Prayer” or run into Protopopov . . . (176).


NAME DAY: A custom originating with the Greek
 Orthodox church to celebrate on the saint day for which a person is named after. In Russia, name days are celebrated apart from birthdays but in a similar fashion. Celebrations can range widely from cards and small gifts to large formal gatherings. In many regards a name day celebration is more important than a birthday because it commemorates one’s baptism into the community of Christ.

Irina’s May 5 name day celebration commemorates Saint Irene of Macedonia. Her feast day is widely celebrated in Eastern Orthodox churches.

St. Irene of Macedonia was born in the late 1st century the daughter of a pagan Roman nobleman. She learned of Christianity as a young girl, converted, and was baptized in secret by St. Timothy. As a teenager, her parents attempted to arrange a marriage between her and another pagan nobleman, she refused, and broke all her father’s pagan idols. When her father discovered her conversion he commanded she renounced her faith. She refused and so he commanded she would be trampled to death by horses. She remained unharmed, but one of the horses rose up and crushed her father to death. She prayed for him and raised him from the dead, after this he too was baptized. Irene later traveled on missionary projects often suffering torture and working miracles. She converted thousands to Christianity. She died in peace at the home of the Virgin Mary in Ephesus in first half on the 2nc century. She was buried. Two days later, the gravestone was lifted off, but the grave was empty.

OLGA: Father died exactly a year ago today, May the fifth. Your name day, Irina. It was so cold then. Snowing, I never thought I’d survive. You lay there in a dead faint. But now a year’s gone by, and it scarcely bothers us to think about it. You’re wearing white, your face is radiant . . . (119).

 NAPHTHALENE: An organic compound with a characteristic odor. It is most often used as the main ingredient for traditional mothballs.

CHEBUTYKIN: To prevent loss of hair . . . dissolve ten grams of naphthalene in half a bottle of alcohol . . . and apply daily (121).

NEW VIRGIN CEMETERY: A cemetery attached to the Novodevihcy Convent, established in 1524 by Tsar Vasily III to commemorate the capture of Smolensk from Lithuania. It was built as a religious building, but also to serve as a fortress. It became a convent for ladies of noble birth. 

 It is the burial site of many famous Russian authors, artists, and politicians including Anton Chekhov.

IRINA: Mama is buried in Moscow.

OLGA: In the New Virgin Cemetery (127).

O FALLACEM HOMINUM SPEM: Latin for “Oh vain is human hope.” Kulygin quotes from Cicero’s The Orator.

KUYLGIN: I’d have liked some tea. I was looking forward to an evening in pleasant company, and – O fallacem hominum spem! Accusative of exclamation . . . (155).

OLD BASMANNAYA STREET: A popular neighborhood in Moscow for “European” Russian officers under Peter I. The Church of St. Peter and Paul was built in the area in the early 18th century. It eventually became a popular place for Russian nobility to live as well. By 1750, the neighborhood had the largest collection of baroque architecture in Moscow. The neighborhood burnt down in 1812, but was gradually rebuilt. In the early 20th century, the neighborhood was transformed by Art Nouveau and Neoclassical Revival architecture.

There is a sense of pride that the sisters take in having originated in that particular neighborhood as it suggests their class and their father’s role in the military.

IRINA: We plan to be there by autumn. We’re natives of Moscow. We were born there . . . Old Basmannaya Street (126).

OMNIA MEA MECUM PORTO: Latin: “I carry all my goods on my person.” A reference from Cicero’s Paradoxa.

KULYGIN: You and I aren’t poor. I work. I have my position at the school and give private lessons too . . . I am an honest man, a simple man. . . Omnia mea mecum porto, as the saying goes (166).

OUR MORAL MIGHT BE MADE: Solyony quotes the moral from Krylov’s fable, The Geese in which barnyard geese boast of their ancestors, the geese who saved Rome, but they have no merits of their own.

SOLYONY: Our moral might be made more clear.
But that would only tease the geese, I fear (164).


PETERSBURG: This is a shortened name for St. Petersburg, Tusenbach’s hometown. Originally founded in the early 18th century by Peter the Great, the city was built by conscripted peasants. Later, he moved the capital of Russian from Moscow to St. Petersburg. Its most famous building is the Winter Palace designed by Bartolomeo Rastrelli, but the city includes many famous examples of Neoclassical architecture. The 1905 Revolution began in Petersburg. During World War I, the name was changed to Petrograd or “Peter’s City.”

Tusenbach’s privileged existence in a beautiful and historic city has left him feeling a sense of ennui. He has never had to work for anything and feels a sense of meaninglessness to his life.


TUSENBACH: I was born in Petersburg – cold; idle Petersburg – into a family that didn’t know what work is, never had a care in the world. (122)

PLEASE EAT THIS DATE: Words from an operetta once put on at the Hermitage Theatre.

CHEBUTYKIN: You sit there with your eyes shut while Natasha has her fling with Protopopov. “Please eat this date at my behest . . .” (162).

RED BARRACKS: Red brick structures built to house the Russian army. They still stand in various Russian cities and districts.

VERSHININ: I would walk from there to the Red Barracks. On the way I’d pass a gloomy-looking bridge with water flowing under it. It gives a lonely man a heavy heart (127).

SAMOVAR: A large and often ornate metal apparatus used to heat and boil water. Samovars use a small coal-burning chimney used to heat a metal teapot filled with a strong, concentrated tea. A functional item, some were crafted to be exotic and elegant works of enamel and silver.

Chebutykin’s gift to Irina for her name day celebration would have been considered quite extravagant as, likely, they would have already owned one. Chebutykin’s constant doting on Irina suggests a special bond between the two characters, some critics infer that he may actually be Irina’s father, or at least he believes he might be.

CHEBUTYKIN: Expensive gifts . . . Really now. You’re impossible, all of you! Put the samovar down over there (125).

SARATOV: A major port city on the Volga River. It is known for a rather large German population.

IRINA: Just now a woman came to the office to send her brother in Saratov a telegram saying that her son had died today, but she couldn’t remember the address (143).

TA-RA-RA BOOM-DE-AY: Lyrics to a British music-hall song, accompanied by a high-kicking dance.

TROIKA: Rides in these sleighs decorated with colored ribbons and bells were a favored pastime during carnival time. The sleighs would travel in wide semi-circles to commemorate the sun’s passage.

Natasha’s ride with Protopopov is suggestive of their not-so-clandestine affair.

NATASHA: Protopopov? What a funny man. That’s Protopopov outside inviting me for a ride in his troika (154).

TRUE LOVE KNOWS NEITHER AGE NOR STATION: Vershinin sings lyrics from Gremin’s aria in Chaikovsk’s opera Yevgerry Onegin (1877), it is based on Pushkin’s verse novel.

VERSHININ: True love knows neither age nor station.
Its pangs are pure invigoration (164).

TSITSIHAR: A city in Northeast China.

CHEBUTYKIN: Tsitsihar. There is a smallpox epidemic raging (147).

UT CONSECUTIVUM: Latin: “a means of living, a temporary compromise.”

KULYGIN: He was expelled in the fifth year because he could never quite grasp the ut consecutivum (175).


Three Sisters: Anton Chekhov Biography


Anton Chekhov was born in the port town of Taganrog January 17, 1860 to his father, Pavel Yegorovich, and mother, Yevgeniya Morozova. He was the third of six children. Although his family was technically of “serf class,” his grandfather, an industrious estate manager, had purchased the family’s freedom in 1841. Pavel ran a small grocery store where his sons worked long hours. Time was otherwise spent in observance to daily worship and other practices of the Eastern Orthodox Church. Pavel enrolled his sons in the local choir that he founded and conducted.

Even at an early age, Chekhov was enthralled by the stage. Although it was against school regulations, he and his friends would sneak off to the playhouse to watch theatre. While in school he began writing sketches and short plays and performing in local comic productions.

In 1879, Chekhov moved to Moscow and enrolled in medical school on a scholarship funded by the Taganrog municipal authorities. He was put in a position as the head of his family with his father failing at business, his older brothers descended into alcoholism, and his younger siblings still in school. Chekhov lived at home and was determined to make a living as a journalist while working through the five-year medical school program. He wrote primarily for humor magazines, but also contributed regularly to the periodical Splinters of Petersburg Life and wrote a theatrical gossip column.

In 1884, he set himself up as a general practitioner. In December of that year, he began coughing up blood. He diagnosed himself with tuberculosis, although he would remain relatively healthy for the next few years. He continued to write and practice medicine, publishing his first collection of stories, Fairy Tales of Melpomene. The following years gained him an impressive reputation as a writer.

By 1891, he was well established and earned enough money in royalties to purchase a farm fifty miles south of Moscow in Melikhovo. He planted a cherry orchard, installed a flush toilet, and became a gracious host. He involved himself with humanitarian work throughout the community building roads, schools, and a free medical clinic. He also served the community as a member of the sanitary commission and famine relief board during the cholera epidemic of 1892-1893.

While he had given up writing theatre for several years, he revived his interest in developing dramatic works in 1894. A disastrous production of The Seagull was performed in St. Petersburg’s Alexandra Theatre in 1896. This experience soured him to theatre and he swore it off even though The Seagull grew more popular in subsequent performances. He couldn’t stay away too long, as we wrote Uncle Vanya in 1897.

During that year he was diagnosed officially with tuberculosis and left Melikhovo for milder climates. For the rest of his life, he divided his time between Yalta, France, Germany, and Moscow. He also became involved with the newly founded Moscow Art Theatre with which his dramatic career would be bound for the rest of his life. Constantine Stanislavski compelled him to revive The Seagull at the end of the theatre’s first season. After the production, the company adopted an art-nouveau style seagull as its emblem and regarded Chekhov as their house dramatist.

While through his life, Chekhov had engaged in a number of prominent love affairs, he settled down and married Moscow Art Theatre actress Olga Knipper in 1900. Their marriage was relatively happy and spirited, although they lived apart often as she worked in Moscow and he retreated to Yalta due to his chronic illness.

By 1903, Chekhov was extremely ill. He traveled to Moscow in December to attend rehearsals for The Cherry Orchard and was visibly frail. His Berlin doctors sent him to a health resort in the Black Forest which he died June 2, 1904. He was mourned by writers, theatre professionals, and many others. He body was buried in St. Petersburg at the Novodevichy cemetery.

Three Sisters: Overview

Welcome to the rehearsal journal and resources for Oregon State University Theatre's upcoming production of Anton Chekhov's Three Sisters. The entries will include information about the play, concept, design, dramaturgy, and rehearsal and performance process.

The show is cast and rehearsals will begin with a Russian dinner and read-through on January 8. Our production of this classic piece of early realism will expose the complex (and often very funny) familial relationships of the Prozorov family. Although originally written in 1900, we have chosen to set the play several years later beginning in 1909. Part of the rational is, admittedly, my own aesthetic bias towards the design elements of the years between 1909 and 1912. The less shallow reason is due to the historical and political context in the years leading to the February Revolution in 1917 and the looming threat of World War I. Although many of Chekhov's plays engage issues of class struggle and the deterioration of the aristocracy, he never could have imagined the transformation his country would undergo after the abdication of Tsar Nicholas II and the rise of the Bolsheviks led by Vladimir Lenin. Moving the dates closer to the socio-political shift creates a greater sense of immediacy surrounding the lives of the Prozorovs and their friends. While they languish in the country, concerning themselves with petty small-town affairs and longing for what they may never attain, the world transforms around them. Their hopes and dreams become all the more poignant as they do not realize how soon what they have will slip away.

Three Sisters originally premiered at the Moscow Art Theatre in 1901. This wry and witty work tells the story of the Prozorov family headed by brother Andrei and his three sisters Olga, Masha, and Irina. The play is a sensitive and funny look into the life in a small provincial town and the people that reside there touching on themes of love, loss, and unfulfilled dreams.

The play begins at a festive celebration on May 5 for Irina, the youngest sister’s, name day. The party is a bittersweet affair as it is also the anniversary of the death of the Prozorov’s father, a general in the Russian army. The family reminisces about life growing up in Moscow as Irina tends to the polite advances of several potential suitors including Solyony, a cynical army captain, Fedotik, a cheerfully generous soldier, Rodet, a high school drill coach and soldier, and Tusenbach, a sensitive and intellectual baron and lieutenant. Irina is not interested in love or marriage, and instead, longs for work to find meaning in her life.

Other party guests include Masha, the brooding and beautiful middle sister, Kulygin, Masha’s sweet but rather foolish husband, Olga, the kindly eldest sister, and Chebutykin, an aging army doctor who dotes on Irina. In a rather melancholy mood, Masha begins to leave the party when the handsome Vershinin, a debonair lieutenant-colonel arrives. Masha, struck by his charm remains at the party and the two characters embark on a mutual attraction that remains throughout the play, although both are married to other people. Late in the celebration, Andrei’s girlfriend, Natasha arrives. The sisters laugh at her poor fashion sense and country manners. Andrei loves her and they agree to marry.

Time passes and family drama ensues as the sisters long to return to Moscow, which remains a distant and unattainable dream.