The Seagull - Playhouse / Harold Pinter

Every single seat in the balcony is marked as restricted view - I'd that right? I resent paying any more than £15 for any seat that it restricted view.

Rehearsal photos

www.whatsonstage.com/london-theatre/news/the-seagull-in-the-west-end-emilia-clarke_56752.html

Why are they wearing microphones?

Is projection not a thing for actors these days???

I know directors like to be modern and use technology but what is this going to add??

Yes, I can be an old fuddy-duddy at times. But Chekhov needs to be acted naturally not filtered through the sound desk.

Stripping down does not require microphones. That is adding an unnecessary element.

Or perhaps one might call it a gimmick...

Visible mcrophones are kind of Jamie Lloyd's signature thing

I've assumed with previous JL productions that it's a way of highlighting the artifice of a stage play, like breaking the 4th wall, or set designs where you can see all the tech equipment lying around? I find that all a bit gimmicky and hackneyed, especially when used for stylistic effect rather than a more fully thought-out philosophy, but, on the other hand, I don't really care as long as the production and performances are top notch.

How long was the show?  And so glad you enjoyed.  Looking forward to this - I adored Cyrano (and also, like yourself, have never read or seen the play before)

Saw this last night, and loved it! The staging (chairs, microphones that pick up whispers, actors speaking one at a time) accentuates thoughts over actions, so characters you might ordinarily overlook, either because they are peripheral to the main story threads (eg Jason Barnett's Shamrayev) or because they are less extrovert or overtly expressive (Tom Rhys Harries's Trigorin) get much more play here, and it's intimate, exciting and revelatory!

Some spoilers follow. . .

Take Trigorin. He shares scenes with characters that are enormous and expressive, like Nina and Arkadina, two pivots of his romantic triangle, so he typically fades from audience attention and identification, but not here. Here he is allowed his full say without interruption, his quiet teeming self-doubt conveyed by microphones and speakers into what feels like intimate whispers in the audiences' ears, and having basically hated him in previous incarnations of the play, this time I felt for him: Tom Rhys Harries's Trigorin is Nick from the BBC's adaptation of Sally Rooney's "Conversations with Friends:" a quiet guy, riddled with self-hatred and depression, with imposter syndrome, overwhelmed by his much larger, more dynamic partner, seeking solace in the adoration of a younger girl.

And Jamie Lloyd's democratic approach to Trigorin doesn't end there. He casts him younger than usual, and stages him as a clear mirror-image to Konstantin. So here, despite the fact he has usurped Konstantin's nest, competing for the affections of both Konstantin's mother and Konstantin's love-interest (which is why I usually hate him), here he simply IS Konstantin in an alternate universe where Konstantin is more successful.

Rhys Harries as Trigorin, and Daniel Monks as Konstantin, are both terrific at conveying self-doubt and desperation-for-affirmation.

Monks's Konstantin broke my heart, his expressions of the flame of his hopes as alive as his despair in seeing that flame doused. Lloyd often foregrounds him, sitting in front of the others, whether he's speaking or not, and although he doesn't get to stalk the stage, as he did at the Donmar as "Teenage Dick" the Third, his forlorn expressive face stalks our attention.

I've seen Anya Reiss's translation of this play before, at Southwark Playhouse, and Lily James's Nina ate the play. Imagine the most hopeful, ambitious ingenue actress and fangirl you ever saw, and multiply by one hundred: her excitable, flapping, leaping, wide-eyed exuberance ate up the entire room, and the attention of the audience. You understood what Trigorin and Konstantin saw in her, but you didn't really see them at all, because you were too busy, engaged by and immersed in her boundless enthusiasm, just like them lol!

Emilia Clarke's Nina can't eat this production, even though the lines are the same, because Jamie Lloyd's democratic approach won't let her. She can't interrupt people. She can't speak louder than them. She can't jump all over them. She can't change her appearance between scenes. It's all about her thoughts and expressions of Chekhov's words, broadcast intimately into the audience's ears. And it seemed to me, this Nina comes across as far more articulate, intelligent, considered and thoughtful than Lily James's more naive and primal Nina. Clarke is a well-mannered Nina, a good listener, a great conversation partner, only her cheshire-cat-permasmile revealing the delusion lurking within. With this Nina, it's only in her final speech that she commands ALL our attention, but when it happens, it's majestic, counterpointed and accentuated by the fact that she seemed so together in the first place.

The fact that props and make-up aren't used are a drawback to some scenes. Without visible traces, important plot points, such as an injury Konstantin acquires towards the end of the first half, might be brushed over or missed. But I think what Lloyd wants to do is serve the words, give primacy to Chekhov and Reiss, and amp up and isolate those to such a degree that you really appreciate their power.

And it works. I have never thought about Chekhov's words as much as I did watching this production, as well as how each and every actor brings those words to life, how interconnected all the characters are, in their inner lives as much as in their interactions: Indira Sharma hilariously nails Arkadina's stridency; Robert Glenister touchingly portrays Sorin's fading softness; Sophie Wu's staccato delivery suggests every blow life has delivered to her punching bag emo Masha's expectations; and holy crap, Jason Barnett's Shamrayev takes advantage of Jamie Lloyd's democratic intimacy to almost steal the whole play, allowing this tyrant of an estate manager to make caustic mincemeat of everyone in his path with the few words Chekhov gives him - laugh out loud funny sometimes, the most scary person in the play at other times - Jason Barnett's Shamrayev is something to behold! A wonderful performance!

Anyhow, Lloyd's approach adopted here, an appoach seen in a few of his recent productions, doesn't quite reach the peak brilliance of his "Betrayal," where detail of the love triangle of Charlie Cox, Tom Hiddleston and Zawe Ashton seemed to shimmer and shine with such clarity, as democratising so many more characters can feel overwhelming, especially with the absence of make-up and props, and you might miss those big performances that demand one to stride about the stage flapping ones arms, but overall, this is the most intimate and revelatory "The Seagull" I've ever seen.

4 and a half stars from me.

Truly awful. This is not Chekhov and should not be advertised as such.

The staging must have cost 75p, the shoes 0p. Why does Lloyd feel we need to be presented with a range of corns and bunyons? Does it inform on the characters?

There is little character development anyway, no movement and you could watch this on radio and miss out on nothing really. It is like a minor Pirandello piece but with hugely inferior dialogue. The actors did their best but with such poor fare there are limits to what can be achieved.

I'm glad I've seen it so I don't have to see it again.

The theatre felt as if it had been prepared for some Tennessee Williams play - hot and sticky and they can't switch on the fans because they're too noisy - never mind the actors are all miked.

An evening to forget.

Absolutely dreadful. This isn’t how Chekhov is done and I’ve seen a few Chekhov plays and productions over the years. I’m not buying into the stripped back nature of this production, it is sheer laziness and very cheap and nasty looking. Even the wonderful Varma couldn’t pull this one back. From front of DC I actually saw someone leave in the first act, the guy was centre stalls about 3rd row back, so I am sure he was seen, someone in the box in DC left as did a woman at the back of DC, all during act 1. I however made it to the interval and left. The lure of an earlier train home was more enticing than the wish to stay for the second act. It was also baking hot and I spent so much time mopping my brow due to the stuffiness of the theatre. Not a great night out, not even an average one 
I can’t remember how to do a spoiler thingy otherwise I’d say much more. I will be really interesting to see the reviews when they’ve had press night.

Yes the Pinter is incredibly hot, I don't know why. The upper levels in particular. They really need to sort it out as it spoils the experience, especially if you already aren't enjoying the play!

I smuggled in two bottles (one of which may not have contained water) half full of ice!


I found this weirdly compelling and hypnotic, though it absolutely feels like all the actors have just taken massive amounts of Valium. Such a strange directorial decision to have most of the actors speak their lines in an extremely slow flat monologue. Nina is a joy in the first half because she actually has energy and emotion in her voice.

The lack of set or movement does force you to pay attention to the dialogue and the dialogue only, despite the flat affect.

Script is pretty dire. I don’t need lines about mobile phone plans! The scene where they play Charades and argue about movies is just strange. The movies named aren’t interesting or relevant enough for such attention.

You either click into it and find it compelling, or hate it.