Jones deftly balances pathos and humour, but he is matched by Eleazar and Wood. This is a Vanya for our times.
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What does Conor McPherson bring to this new adaptation? A different kind of laughter, it turns out: deeper, more poignant and perfectly weighted.
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Sonia Friedman has reunited a Covid-dispersed cast to stage a masterpiece of love, sadness and a very timely air of ennui.
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Ciarán Hinds is powerful as a monstrously egotistical Serebryakov, Anna Calder-Marshall, Dearbhla Molloy and Peter Wight all lend heft and significance to characters that often count for nought. All in all, a glory.
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...it is both refreshing and even radical to go back to Chekhovian basics and produce a more faithful version like this in the West End that demonstrates what a masterpiece the play is without the need for reinvention.
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Heavens, no. Like so many good versions of classics, Conor McPherson’s new adaptation feels almost impossibly contemporary in the way it packs so much lust, wit, rage and regret into its brisk but unhurried two and a half hours.
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Ian Rickson’s production is polished to a high shine. The emotional arcs, the richness of the performances, the lucidity of the adaptation, the sumptuous design...
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Ian Rickson’s exemplary production relishes the nuances of Conor McPherson's adaptation.
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