Tolstoi on Chekhov
[Hat tip: Ann Althouse.]
Excerpt by Peter Gnedich, “Memories,” from The Book of Life (1922):
Lev Tolstoy sincerely loved Chekhov, but did not like his plays. He told Chekhov once, “A playwright should take the theater-goer by the hand, and lead him in the direction he wants him to go. And where can I follow your character? To the couch in the living-room and back””because your character has no other place to go.” They both””Tolstoy and Chekhov””laughed at these words.
Chekhov told me later, “When I am writing a new play, and I want my character to exit the stage, I remember those words of Lev Nikolaevich, and I think ”˜Where will my character go?’ I feel both funny and angry.” Chekhov’s only consolation was that Tolstoy also did not like the plays of Shakespeare.
I never liked Chekhov’s plays, and I find myself agreeing with Tolstoy about them, although most certainly not about Shakespeare’s works. When I was younger, I was annoyed by the way Chekhov’s plays circle lazily around themselves, featuring boring people doing mostly boring things. I’d had enough of that in real life! It was only later that I realized his plays were about ennui and boredom, and had something to say about depression and loss, missed opportunities and lives of regret.
But I still don’t like them. And they are almost impossible to act (unless, perhaps, you’re Russian), especially for high school or college students.
My grandparents were ardent Chekhov fans, so that my granny was a close friend of Maria Pavlovna, Anton’s sister. There was almost a cult of Chekhov in the family, among my numerous granduncles and grandaunties and their friends. But I can agree that his prose seems to me more valuable and long-lasting heritage than his dramas. And it is awfully hard to play these drammas, too, certainly not for amateurs. But professional actors find these roles the most valuable test of excellence in acting, and have lots of admirers, for playing them.
Sergey: I’ve seen several high school and college productions of various Chekhov plays in this country, and they can be hard to watch. The tone is all wrong, because most of these kids have no context for the dialogue.
Even professional productions in this country just sound all wrong to me. My guess is that it all works much better when performed in Russian by Russians.
I also don’t “get” Pushkin’s verse in translation, although those who read it in the original often say he’s one of the greatest writers ever.
I don’t know Chekhov. For Shakespeare, I used to love his stuff. When I was a pre-pubescent and then on into high school, I read Shakespeare voraciously and saw the plays when I could (secretly, as such things were considered quite sissy at the time and I fought enough for stupid reasons as it was). As I have aged I have lost most interest in the plays. Much like I lost interest in children’s cartoons (and rather more early than most of my peers, and “pro wrestling” too).
I haven’t found playwrights for men, or modern men. They all seem like slightly better, but not by much, modern sitcoms or movies. Blah.
For these plays, context is everything. They reveal a very distinctive epoch in Russian history, which is not possible to compare with anything in other cultures. This dramaturgy is so charged with subtle references to events and situations known to Russian audience without direct mentioning them, that to everybody outside this political and ideological background they are a charades. Every detail is a subtle reminder to something. I wonder what meaning native Japanese find in Kabuki theater, while Europeans have no clue what really is going on.
Probably, the best way to look at Chekhov’s plays is to see them as theater of absurd, like Bekket’s “Waiting for Godo”. The name of the main character in it – Vladimir – is a Russian name, so it may be a reference to Chekhov, too. It is not simply about boredom and annui, but about dying civilisation, gradually but remorsely losing its sense of purpose and meaning, losing its soul but still beatiful in its decadence. This stage of anomy Western civilisation achieved later than Russia, after Great War, and USA even later and still stumbling here. That is why it is so hard to reproduce these sentiments in still vigorous, optimistic and not completely goddless America.
Much Ado About Nothing
“Sergey Says:
December 14th, 2011 at 4:29 pm
Probably, the best way to look at Chekhov’s plays is to see them as theater of absurd, like Bekket’s “Waiting for Godo”. The name of the main character in it — Vladimir — is a Russian name, so it may be a reference to Chekhov, too. It is not simply about boredom and annui, but about dying civilisation, gradually but remorsely losing its sense of purpose and meaning, losing its soul but still beatiful in its decadence. This stage of anomy Western civilisation achieved later than Russia, after Great War, and USA even later and still stumbling here. That is why it is so hard to reproduce these sentiments in still vigorous, optimistic and not completely goddless America.”
That’s interesting, Sergey. I was never able to get through a Russian play, novel, or short story without a great deal of effort. The “context” so frustrated me that I couldn’t deal with it. Everyone seemed to be locked into a cat’s cradle of strangling obligations and dismal hopelessness.
As unfunny as Woody Allen’s “Love and Death” seems now, at the time it came out I thought it struck the right note of parody.
When studying Russian history in school, I kept casting about for some principality or era to fasten on in order to gain a sympathetic footing and someone to root for as exemplifying a thread of successful self-direction and optimism.
I thought for a time that medieval Novgorod was that element, that place. But I don’t know what if any legacy it imparted to the Russian political and social consciousness of the modern era.
Perhaps some modern Russian version of a Walter Scott will come along and use it as the basis for a Russian parallel to a Hereward The Wake, or Ivanhoe romance, celebrating the tradition of natural and ordered liberty as indigenous to the Russian character.
Russia seems to me to have great potential for providing it’s citizens with the opportunity for happiness …
One of the plays that helped me fall in love with the theater was a production of “The Cherry Orchard” at Lincoln Center in NY.
And I was certainly too young to bother about cultural context.
I don’t know the other plays, but I remember that one being filled with contrasting characters, each one revealing themselves as the play unfolded.
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