Satire
or Mancunian
Monotony?
GUY RUSSELL TORR
( Krakow )
The copy that adorns the back of ‘popular’ paperback editions of the classics gives a reasonably accurate account ofthegeneralopinion a given author enjoys amongsta ‘reasonably’well-versedreadership. The very fact that one is rumma gingamongst the classics sections ofbookshops indicates either familiarity or obligation. Most ‘classics’ find themselves on set reading liststo be reread by successive generations in orderto provide a literary continuity and progression with the past. Chekhov, and his significance, lies firmly here.
Chekhov, despite the numerical superiority of his short stories, is chiefly known outside of Russia and academic circles,for his plays. So much so that he has been honoured with an adjective: Chekhovian. This is no light accolade. Only the greatestare ascribed attributive functions: Bertolt Brecht - Brechtian, Charles Dickens -Dickensian, Nikolai Gogol - Gogolian. Yet eventhe Nobel Prizefor Literature is no guarantee ofadjective statusfor we have no Becketian, Pasternakian, orHemingwayian. Which leads one to ponder what it isthat is so specific and yet so universally trueto allow some the right to adjectives. Dictio naries are hereof little use for they provide,withthe exception of Dickensian,no more thanthe annotation that the adjectiveexists, withno pointersto usage or collocation.TheNew Penguin English Dictionary helps little givingChekhovian
as merely ‘characteristic ofthe style or works of Anton Chekhov’ (2000: 236) while the New Oxford Dictionary ofEnglish simply providesthe adjective and lets us get on with it.
If we want to understand Chekhovian then we need toseehow it isused on the dust sleeves of his works or inthewritings of academic critics.We find however a degree of ambivalencenot usually associatedwith awriter so widely rehear
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sed, performed and read: ‘...the depthandsubtlety ofhis arthasgenerated a we althofinterpretation.’ (Cover copyfor ElisavetaFen’sAnton Chekhov -Plays, Penguin 1986) ‘Some productions of Chekhov exudean atmosphere of unrelie vedgloom; othersturn intoaboisterous rompround the samovar. Are they tra gedies of loss and dispossession, or light-hearted send-ups of society’s misfits?’ (Cover copy for Hingley’sAnton Chekhov -Five Plays, Oxford 1998). Sowhat are the thingscharacteristicof the styleor works of Chekhov? Russia? Country estates?Samovars?Unhappy young women (aristocratic of course)?Boredom? Pointlessness? The politicaland economic backcloth of the Great Reforms and their spin-offs? Some have eventaken the gloom and despair along with its po ssible socio-politicalorigins to theWest of Ireland. ThomasKilroy’sversion of
The Seagull transports it lock,stock andbarrelto the era ofthe Land League and the declineoftheAnglo-Irish estates.Here there are no Ninas butLilys, no Ev-genii Sergeevich Dorns but homelyDr Hickeys, no mentionof urbandiversion to relieve rural ennui but in itsplace straightforward referencesto Dublin and the bright lights of London. There is also little to laugh over.
The point in writing this paper is to try toexplain a seemingdisparity between the commonnotion ofChekhovian with its tragiccharacterslongingfora brigh ter tomorrow while holed upin theback ofbeyond aimlessly engaged in futile chatter-ina word the tragedy associated with Chekhov’s plays, and the reaction in Moscow to the second ever production of The Seagull whereby“likethe bur stingofadam, likean exploding bombasudden deafeningeruption of applause broke out”.Members of the audience rushedthe stage amid tearsofjoy and kis sing so general as to recall theOrthodox custom of ritual osculation atEaster. Peoplewere “rolling round in hysterics”, says Stanislavsky, who himselfcele bratedby dancing ajig.’ (Hingley 1998: xviii). Hardly the morbid social phi losophizing associated with Chekhov’s drawing room discussions.
OfChekhov’sfive major plays: Ivanov, The Seagull, Uncle Vanya, Three Si
sters,and The Cherry Orchard, thefirst is ‘a play’, the second ‘a comedy’, the third ‘scenes from country life’, the fourth ‘a drama’, and the last another
‘comedy’. One must assume that eachof these subtitles was chosen very careful ly. Gilmanpoints out that ‘All these terms or descriptivephrases are toone de gree or another tactical alerts toaudiences and readers. In effect they tellus not tobring to these works preconceptions abouttypes of drama, theyask us to be supple in the way we wield artistic categories and to be open in our anticipation.’ (Gilman 1995: 72) That ‘ comedy hasa wider and deeper action,as formal come dies like Shakespeare’s havealways made evident: to restore, to heal to embol den.’ (Gilman 1995: 73). Others feel that we are misunderstanding the term co
medyfor ‘what he[Chekhov] was really appealingforwasalightness of touch,a throwaway casual style, anabandonment ofthetraditional over-theatricalityof the Russian (and not only Russian) theatre’ (Hingley 1998: xxi).
The reading of plays is at times a tiresome business. On the whole the ‘general’publicdoes not go in for play reading.Playsare most often readas set books for university seminars. Onetends to getsidetracked, thenames seem to interchange, onehasto returnto the initial pagetorecall whom issupposed tobe whom. We watchplays, either on television or the stage and of late in Hollywo od productions of the classics. Most major playwrightshavefilm adaptations to theircredit. And here isthedifficulty with drama itrequiresa different sortof re ading; a reading which expects a lot of the associations to be supplied by the rea der himself. Forherethereaderis like thepotential director - he is busy looking forpointers as topossibleinterpretation, all themore sowhenthe playwright hi mself hasfailed to ‘elaborate’ either in the form ofextensive stage directions or additional comments on theplay - such is the case with Chekhov who provided scant pointers indeed as to the way his plays wereto be performed let alone in terpreted. There is a difference in the scope allowed theauthor when writing a novel,a play or a short story. Short storiesand plays demanda brevity inthe ac tual wordschosen which novels do not. One couldeven go as far as to say that ‘mistakes’ are even permissible in novels, the sheer length ofthe work means that the reader has time to either forgive or forget an ‘awkward’ wording, afai leddescription, aflat speech. Ashort stoiy offers none of that luxury a mispla ced word rings strong,the same with drama. Nobody understood this better than Chekhov who according to Bunin was tohave said in 1895 (theyear of The Sea-gulTy.
По-моему, написав рассказ следует вычеркивать его начало и конец. Тут мы,
беллетристы, больше всего врем. И короче, как можно короче надо говорить. (Чеховв воспоминаниях современников: 473)
That he adhered to his own rigorous demands is seenin the ‘drastic’ process ofrationalization experienced in thewriting of his five ‘famous’ plays asoppo sed to hisfirstfullscaledramatic attempt Platonov which with its175 pages is in total almost thesumofThe Seagull, Uncle Vanya andthe Three Sisters. With the exception ofA Hunting Incident (1884) Platonov was to be the mostweighty piece Chekhov was to write. Therest ofhis literary output is characterisedby economy, brevity and acraftsman’sprecision in making sure theright word fits.
Chekhov’s interest in humour can be seen from his modest literary begin nings as contributor ofhumorous sketches tovarious periodicals. These initial pieces as his latershort stories lend themselves beautifully to thestage with the
Stylistyka X
need for little in the way of adaptation or rewriting.It is thereforeofno surprise that Chekhov was tomove on tothetheatre, what is surprising is that given the momentous quantity of hisliteraryoutput(one must remember that he was dead by theage of 44) suchasmall amount is intheform of plays only three volumes of the 18 devoted to his short stories,travelogues,plays and notes. Yet it isas a playwright that he is remembered,and asa playwright that theterm Chekhovian is applied.
Plays require directors, producers, sets, settings, stagedirections, prompters, orchestras, costumes, make up, actors, audiences and atmosphere. The theatre is all about atmosphere,about ‘going out’, aboutmaking an effort, about expecta tion. The regulartheatregoer is performing a ritualwhich requires a certainde gree ofdecorum, and unlike asports fan heorshe isnot going toobserve theun known,there is noresult to be obtained, no title to be defended. Infact the result isalready known, the play alreadyread. Obviously there are plays that haveto be seen for thefirst time but it is no overstatementto wager that a sizeable part of the audience for aproductionofHamlet, The Seagull, The Wild Duck, Waiting
for Godot (school partiesexcluded) have been before or haveat least read the play(or possibly seen the film!) This results in the idea of creatinga part. We have critics who tell us that the best ‘Richardthe III’ was so-and-so, that nobody can excel Kenneth Branagh or Laurence Olivier as X,Y and Z.
This association of ‘horses with courses’ finds an apt parallel in thefirst sta ging of The Seagull where a certain Elizabeth Levkeyev hadchosen the play for her benefit night -the night to commemoratetwenty-five yearson the stage. Ro nald Hingley has described her as ‘one of those“fine old character actresses” who hasonly to emerge from thewings to provoke eruptions of mirth.’ (Hingley
1998:xvi) Not really somebody onewouldinitially associate as being a Chekho- vian actress - certainly no lightnessoftouch. Rather an individual reminiscent of Oscar Wilde’s LadyBracknellfrom The Importance of Being Earnest. And here we have another interesting association, and not one merely contained in the fact that the works were bothcompleted in 1895. Oscar Wilde’s work is un derstoodto be acomedy whether labelled asa‘witty drama’ or not. The audien ce is awaitingthe lines, and testing themagainstthebenchmark of previous per formances. Howwell will she‘boom’ theimmortal ‘Ahandbag?’?How slickly will the repartee come across? Wilde’s play in effect beingaclassic example for the theatre ofthe Christmas ‘favourites’ on television - those films, whatever their genre, that have beenviewed so many times that their script is almost known by heartyet ‘have to be’ reseen.Audiences for Chekhov, possibly becau se of thewealth oftranslations, queue uptosee something they thinkthey know
yet with the realization thatChekhov is game for anyone and what the latest ‘interpretation’ isto be isanyone’s guess. As an example I would like tocitetwo reviews: one from the American Repertory Theatre production of the 19th-21st March 1992 andthe other from theStellenbosch HB Thom Theatre (SouthAfri ca) production ofthe 25th-27th November 1996. With regards to the former we read that ‘The ART production takes Chekhov’s 1895 play and sets it in the mo dem day. Several ofthecharacterssmoke, includingtwoofthewomen. Konsta- nin and Masha havetheappearance of East Village beatnik intellectuals. Akadi-na dresses in the latest Fifth Avenue fashion anddrapes her three-quarter length mink after her from scene to scene. In thisway, RonDaniels manages to challen ge modem day stereotypes with Chekhov’s timeless play.’ While thelatter pre sents The Seagull as ‘Chekhov’s rather difficult tragi-comedy’ going o toponder ‘The question is howone maintains a certain level of performancewhen thena rrative loses all of its comic elements and merely becomes tragicin very under stated terms when, hitherto, allthe action has beenlivelyin spiteof its subtlety.’ Two ‘Anglophone’ countries, two differentculturalbackdrops andyet Chekhov finds his niche. Wilde is not as widespread.
Inthe examinationof the ‘potential’ comiccoreto The Seagull I wouldlike to examine the theme ofsmoking, something close to Chekhov’s heart with him even writing a one act, monologue Smoking is Bad for You (1886).
I would liketoexaminethe famous ‘smoking’ reference in The Importanceof
Being Earnest, five ‘reworkings’ of Sorin’s hankerings on smoking and drin king,andfinally what I seeto be Chekhovof the 1990s i.e. TheRoyle Familya recent innovationin British comedy thatwas described in the Sunday Indepen dent of the 20th of September 1998 by Nicholas Barber as ‘ a comedy drama. Youcan only feel sorryfor anyone who regards itas dramatic. [...] It is possibly the least dramatic programme ever made. Aworking class Mancunian family chain-smoke infront of the television, the neighbours pop in, and that’sit.There are no scene changes. Half an hour of screen time ishalfan hour in thelife of the Royles.Seinfield misleadingly labelled itself ‘ashow about nothing’, when each episodewas actuallya Bayeux Tapestry ofplot strands, The Royle Familyis the real thing.’ My point being that given the massof translationsof Chekhov’s The
Seagull (let’s just mention the 13 ‘best’ known by: Marian Fell, New York, 1912; F.A. Saphro, Boston, 1922;Constance Garnett, London, 1923;Jennie Co ven, New York, 1922; RoseCaylor, New York, 1930; Julius West and Marian Fell, London, 1939; Stark Young, New York, 1956; Elisaveta Fen, Harmonds-worth, 1959; David Magarshack, London, 1960; Ann Dunnigan, New York,
Stylistyka X
Gems, London, 1979.) maybe theanswer to thecomedy lies not so much in rew riting but in the essence oftheplay itself - a throwingoffof convention with re gards to the theatreand comedy and an uncovering of Hingley’s term in relation to ‘a lightness of touch’. Nothing happens, except off stage,inThe Seagull, not hing happens except in the audience’s preconceptions in The Importanceof Be ing Earnest, andnothinghappens except forthe fact that ‘virtually every word has comicpotential’ (The Daily Telegraph 14th September 1998) in The Royle Family. Itisthe search for ‘comic potential’thatisof interesthere. All three co uld be nicely summed up by the backcover copy for The Royle Family. The
Scripts: Series I ‘Certainly itisnottheactionthat makes it such a superband hi larious drama.’
That smoking, thatmostlethal ofpastimes, has ‘comic potential’ can be illu strated by the famous extract from The Importance of BeingEarnest
Lady Bracknell (penciland note-book in hand)'.I feelbound totell youthat you are not down on mylist of eligible youngmen,although I havethe same list as the dear Duchess of Bolton has. We worktogether, in fact.However, I am quite ready toenter your name, shouldyouran
swers be whatareally affectionate motherrequires. Do you smoke?
Jack: Well, yes. I must admit I smoke.
Lady Bracknell: Iam gladto hear it. A man should have anoccupation ofsome kind. There are fartoo many idlemen in London as itis. How old are you? (Wilde 1991: 499)
Sorin [laughing] Its all very wellfor you totalk...You’ve had agoodlife,but what aboutme?
I’ve served in the Department of Justicefortwenty-eightyears, but I haven’t really lived, I
haven’t really experienced anything yet- so obviously Ifeel verymuchlike going onliving. You’resatisfied and you don’t care anymore, soyou’re inclinedto bephilosophical -but I want to live.That’s why I drink sherry at dinner andsmoke cigars, andallthat...And there it is.... (Fen 1986: 141)
Sorin [laughs]. It’s all right foryou to talk, you’veenjoyed yourself. But whataboutme? Twenty-eight yearsI’ve worked for the Department of Justice, but I haven’tlived yet,haven’t experienced anything - that’s what it comes to. So I want a bitof fun, it stands to reason.
You’vealwayshadyour own way and you don’t care, whichis why you’reso given to idlechat ter. But Iwant abit of life, so I drink sherry at dinner and smoke cigarsandso on. That’s allthe
re is to it. (Hingley 1998: 84)
Sorin. It is easyforyou to condemn smokingand drinking; you have known whatlife is, but
what about me? I have servedin theDepartment of Justice fortwenty-eightyears, but I have ne ver lived, Ihave never had any experiences.You aresatiatedwith life, and thatiswhy you have an inclination for philosophy, but I wantto live, andthat iswhy Idrink my wine for dinnerand
smoke cigars, andall. (The Project Gutenberg Etext ofthe Sea-Gull 1999)
Sorin (laughs). It’s easyfor you to reason. You’velivedyourlife, andI? I servedin theDepart
ment of Justice fortwenty-eightyears, but I haven’tlived yet, haven’texperienced anything af
ter all, andquitenaturally,I want very muchtolive. Youhad your fill andare indifferent,and that’swhyyou are inclined toward philosophy, but I do want to liveandthat’swhyI drink sher ry atdinnerand smoke acigar and all that. That’s all(Sznycer 1974: 67-68)
Peter: Ho-ho-ho. That’s capital,I must say. Ourdoctor may talk.He has livedlife tothefull,
don’t you know.He is stillin his prime whileI’m - Well, Idon’t wish to die. Notyet. Icannot sitabout being clever about lifeand so on and so forth. Isimply enjoy a goodclaretand a cigar. Nothing very remarkable,really,about that, I just simply need to know thatI’m alive, you see
-(Kilroy 1981: 19)
Mam: They’re dead strict about nosmokinginthebaker’s. No way can you light up. It’shealth and safety. We have to keep taking it in turns to nip tothe toilet.
Dad: You can’t do owt thesedays. Them health and safety won’t let you wipe your arse.
Mam: Some places are only taking on non-smokers.
Denise: Well, you just don’t smokein the interview doyou.
Dad: Whatplaces?
Mam: Well flat-nosed Alan went for a job at the petrol station on the roundabout.
(TheRoyle Family Scripts I 1999: 46)
Sowhatcanwe find funny in the above? Well wehave the absudity of a man who wantsto live doing something contrary tohis doctor’s advice: ‘But I want a bit of life,so I drink sherryatdinnerand smoke cigars...’ (Hingley) ‘but I wantto live, and thatiswhy I drink my wine for dinner and smoke cigars’ (Gutenberg), ‘Ido want to live and that’s why I drink sherry at dinner...’ (Sznycer) ‘Well, I don’twant todie. [...]I simplyenjoy a good claret and a cigar. [...] I just simply need toknowthat I’malive...’ (Kilroy). Wehave the obvious contrast, withits humorous potential betweenthe 28years in the Department of Justice andthe doctor having enjoyed himself. The stage direction makes it clear that Sorin is in jovialmood when speaking, and one could indeed imagine the linesbeing said in a light-hearted if not riotousmanner.But this ishardlythe stuff to have people ‘rolling around in hysterics’. Maybe something has been lost with time?
Peter Cook: Have you seenthat bloody Leonardo DaVinci cartoon? I couldn’t see the bloody
joke. Went down there. Nothing!
Dudley Moore: Well, ofcourse you know Pete the sense ofhumour must havechangedover the years, you know.
PC: Ofcourse it has, that’s why it’s not funny.
DM: No,I bet whenthatDa Vinci cartoon firstcome out, I bet people were killingthemselves. I bet, I bet old Da Vinci had an accident when he done it.
PC: Yes,but it’s difficult to seethejokejustthat ladysitting therewiththechildrenround her. It’s notmuch of a joke as far as I’m concerned,Dud!
DM: No, well, part from that Pete it’s a different culture.
PC: Yes.
DM: It’s Italian, you see.
PC: Italianate in any case.
DM: Wedon’t understandit, I mean, for instance, the Mousetrap did terriblyinPakistan. (Peter Cooke -Anthology)
StylistykaX
But even if we assume that something is likely to lose it’s initial crispness with the course of time it should still maintain an overall sense of being funny. And yethere wehave the interestingpointif we are to examine the two remai ningextracts, fromThe Importance of BeingEarnestand The Royle Family we are notinitiallystruck by the ‘funniness’of the pieces,especiallywith thelatter. Lady Bracknell’s question aboutsmokingonly takes on a sense of comedyinher unexpected approval ofthehabit. Could the exchange be takenseriously? Could one ‘misunderstand’ that there’s a laugh intheresomewhere? This certainly ap pears possiblewith The Royle Family. With the exception of the absurdity of Mam’s last remark about asmokerbeingputoutovernot beingableto smoke at a petrol service station, the rest could as easily have been taken from a ‘fly-on-the-wall’ documentary. And here isthe problem withtext.Text is totally flat.It requires somebody topump it up,to mark thestress, underline wherethe emphasisis tobeplaced andsoon. Perhapswe should sideline the idea of trans lation when it comes tohumour and start tospeak rather of ‘inspiration’. That a given work has given us a set idea. The way in which directors are inspired to make thefilmof the book. Withthis idea of reworking we can home in onthe es senceof Chekhov and approach anunderstandingofChekhovian. For Chekhov most men ledlivesof ‘quiet desperation’by which wecan understand boredom and isolation. As Hingley points out:
Far fromimplying any view oflifegrandiose inthetragic manner, orultimately harmoniousin
thespirit ofcomedy, Chekhovcontinually suggests the opposite:humanexistenceis more po
intless, more frustratingless heroic, less satisfying than members of his audience may privately conceive. Butthis too may have its advantage. Harassedless by pestilence,famine, andforeign invadersthan bythe horrors of commuting, of parking his car, offilling in tax and other returns,
of pacifying computersand bureaucrats - even harassed,perhaps, by theappalling misfortune
of actually beinga bureaucrat - a modern man may well find itmore cathartic to be purged of
Chekhovian boredom, despair, andtaediumvitaethan ofthe traditional Aristotelianpity and
terror.ThusChekhov admirably complements hisgreatpredecessors by cateringto a different
area of human need.
(Hingley 1998: xxix)
We have alwaysreworked texts whether they bethe Greek myths, Roman le gends or Celtic folklore. All of it constitutes the background by way of which it becomes increasingly difficult, if not impossible totalk of ‘a new plot’ or even idea,rather we need to talk about thereworking of the same. The complexities of human feelings and interesthave long ago been played outupon the stages ofthe ancient world. All that it is left for us to do is change the form.
Treplev: What we need’sanewkind oftheatre. New formsare what we need, andif we haven’t
Chekhovspeaking through a character,yetwe could easilychange theatre for comedy. Comedy has moved on fromthetellingof jokes, the canned laughter and the double entendre. Like Chekhov’stheatre the public have grown to be able to dealwith ‘new forms’ in comedy. If The Seagull doesn’t have usinstit ches despite the mass of translationsthen maybe itsbecause we have failed to understand Chekhov’s ‘play within a play’.
Irina: But hetoldus his play was ajoke, andthat’s just how I treated it (Hingley 1998: The Sea gull p. 76)
The joke actually beingthat except for the subtitle ‘a comedy in fouracts’ Chekhov told us next tonothing about whatit should be.Sogiven the liberty that the theatre allows by way of interpretation, and the endless debate over the ‘significance’ of Chekhov’s plays maybe for theyear2001 as good a evocation ofatmosphereare the flyingducks on the wall of a crampedManchester living room thanthe lake, the seagulland the setting of a country house whichappears to detract the reader/viewer from theword ‘comedy’ and reiterate the long held view that Chekhov is primarily social satire.
Comedydoesn’t get less regal or more real-life thanthisseries abouta Manchester working-c lass family -‘typical’ only in thatits assemblage of warts-and-all comic characters draws on every Mancunian cliche in the book. [...] Sitting around a television, talkingand bickeringabo
utwho had what for tea, who has the best feet in the family,orwho madea costly phone call to Aberdeen may notsound like a recipe for hilaritybut [...]virtually every wordhascomicpoten tial.’ (The Telegraph 14th September 1998)
Bibliography
Brahms C., 1976,Reflections in a Lake: a Study of Chekhov’s Four Greatest Plays, Weiden
feld andNicolson.
CookG., 1994,Discourse and Literature: the Interplay of Form and Mind, OUP.
Cooke P., 1995, Anthology Laughing,Stock Productions Ltd.
Gilman R., 1995, Chekhov ’s Plays: An Opening into Eternity Yale University Press.
Fen E., 1986,Anton Chekhov - Plays, Penguin Books.
Hahn B., 1977, Chekhov: A Study of the Major Stories and Plays, Cambridge University Press.
HingleyR., 1998,Anton Chekhov - Five Plays, Oxford Classics OUP.
Kilroy T., 1981, The Seagull, MethuenLondon.
Project Gutenberg Etext of the Sea-Gull, ChampaignUSA 1999.
з
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The New Penguin English Dictionary, Penguin Books, 2000. The Royle Family. The Scripts: Series I, Granada, 1999. The Royle Family. The Scripts: Series II, Granada 2000.
Sznycer B. N., 1974, Chekhov The Gull, Poets’ and Painters’ Press London.
Wilde O., 1991, The Complete Illustrated Stories, Plays and Poems, Chancellor Press. Worrall N., 1986, Files on Chekhov, Methuen London and New York.
Чехов в воспоминаниях современников, Москва 1954. Чехов А., 1978, Полное собрание сочинений и писем Москва.
"Mewa"
Czechowa
- satyra społeczna czy
monotonia
manchesterska
Artykuł jest próbę wyjaśnienia podtytułu Mewy A. Czechowa - Komedia w czterech aktach. Według autora odnosi się on nie tyle do zawartego w Mewie potencjału komicznego, ile do inspiracji twórczej, która bezpośrednio doprowadziła do powstania Rodziny królewskiej.
