Three Sisters

Three Sisters? Sorry mate. I fort you said Seven Sisters. Why didntya say sumat?

Well I thought we were going a funny way, but you know, you’re the expert and cabbies tend to get a bit iffy if you query their choice of route.

Anyway, after much russian about, the central(ised) line being down, I got to the Barbican for Cheek by Jowl’s Russian Company’s performance of Chekhov's Three Sisters, in Russian, with English surtitles.

The first half was very good. Well lit, superbly acted, and, despite the language barrier, you could appreciate the flow of the words. The set was bare, just a couple of hanging screens, and some furniture, which seemed fresh to me after the visual extravagance of recent outings. Overall there was a rightness and balance to it.

Things deteriorated in the third act. The effective stage area narrowed and the speaking volume dropped. The intended effect was to draw us in and give us a more intimate glimpse into the life of the characters, but the opposite was achieved. You couldn’t keep your eyes on the surtitles and the action at the same time. Someone behind me developed whistling nasals, the noise more irritating for the quietness on stage. The noise irritations around me threatened to snowball as the audience became restless. The pacing seemed awry.

The fourth and final act was better; stage area expanded and volume increased, and I was able to reconnect again with the characters. Needless to say the denouement with the crushing of the hopes and ambitions of those who dare to dream was deeply moving.

Overall I’d say good but not great, although I think some of the pacing problems are inherent in the text. The production gave life to the play and brought out its themes and recurring patterns well. The bare stage signposted how much of the action and how many characters appear only offstage, a kind of writerly metaphor wherein the artist, like the sisters, can never fully realise his ambition.

By the way, the programme, at £3, was absolutely dreadful. It was joint for this production and Cheek by Jowl’s English Co’s Cymbeline, and was full of short, trite attempts to compare the two plays, with frequent use of the word “perhaps” indicating that whoever wrote this tripe was not at all convinced of their argument. More like Cheek by Jowell.