The human condition. Over time, some things change, some things don’t. The parts however that both do and don’t generally revolve around interactions embedded in subsistence and class. In gender. In sex. In love. Some of it is derived from genes and some from memes. But put the two together and there is no telling how many different combinations of actual lived experiences we might come up with in apprising the “meaning” of it.
Some however are better at observing it than others. And surely Anton Chekhov was among those with the keenest of minds.
The events in “The Seagull” unfold on a “country estate” over a century ago. So the part about class becomes crystal clear. These are men and women afforded the leisure time to become intertwined [or entangled] in any number of “personal relationships”. It’s just that some are considerably more sophisticated in traversing the labyrinths and the minefields than others.
But make no mistake about it. The interactions here are always straddling the fence between what most people think they are expected to do and what a few are able to get away with in recognizing that this is not necessarily set in stone.
Or written in the Bible.
Still, in being basically a “dramedy”, much of it can be taken to be a poke at particular people in a particular age that often take themselves too seriously. Or not nearly seriously enough. The human comedy as some might call it. But there is really no getting around the parts that devolve into tragedy.
And then the part where art itself either does or does not imitate life more than it is actually able to change it.
Would Chekhov approve? Many insist he most definitely would not. Me, I wouldn’t know about such things. But he would surely have something to say about the “alternate ending”. It made absolutely no sense to me.
at wiki: en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Seagull_(2018_film
trailer: youtu.be/78FyrqpgZKs
The Seagull [2018]
Directed by Michael Mayer
[b]Medvedenko: Why do you always wear black?
Masha: I’m in mourning for my life.
Medvedenko: Why? You’re healthy. You have enough money to get by. Life’s a lot harder for me. I’m a schoolteacher. I hardly make anything. You don’t see me all in black.
Masha: It’s not about money. Even a poor man can be happy.
Medvedenko: Every day, I meet with nothing but indifference from you.
Masha: Stop it, Medvedenko. I’m touched by your love. I just can’t return it. That’s all.
…
Sorin: Why is my sister in such a bad mood?
Konstantin: Why? She’s bored. Jealous. She’s already set against me and the play because she’s not acting in it, and Nina is. She already hates it.
Sorin: Your mother adores you.
Konstantin: She also knows I have no respect for her theater. She thinks she’s dedicated to serving humanity with her sacred art, but as far as I’m concerned, the modern theater is trite and riddled with cliches. When they take cheap, vulgar plots and cheap, vulgar speeches and try to extract - some easily digestible moral. I want to run out of the exit and keep on running the way Maupassant ran from the Eiffel Tower because its vulgarity was crushing his brain.
Sorin: We need the theater.
Konstantin: What we need are new forms, and if we can’t have them, then give us nothing!
…
Sorin [of Boris Trigorin]: What’s the gossip on him?
Konstantin: He’s smart, actually. Unpretentious. Kind of melancholy. Pretty decent, really. Not even 40, but he’s already a celebrity. Maybe a little full of himself. These days, he drinks a lot of beer and makes love to older women.
Sorin: Well, when I was young, I passionately wanted two things. I wanted to get married. I wanted to become an author. I never managed either one.
…
Konstantin: Why are you so nervous?
Nina: I’m not. Well, I’m not afraid to perform for your mother, but Boris Trigorin, he’s so famous. I’m embarrassed to act in front of him. He looked young.
Konstantin: He is young and accomplished, don’t remind me.
Nina: His stories are incredible…full of life. In your plays, everyone’s dead.
Konstantin: My goal is to show life the way we experience it in dreams, not the way it is or the way we think it should be.
Nina: Yes, but nothing happens in your play. It’s all talk.
…
Nina [acting in Konstantin’s play]: Cold, cold, empty, empty, horrible, horrible, most horrible…
Irina: My thoughts exactly.
Konstantin: Mother!
…
Konstantin [unable no longer to stand his mother’s derisive comments]: Bring up the curtain! Bring down the curtain! I’ve had enough! Enough! No, enough! I’m sorry! I’m sorry, I forgot that writing and acting in plays is reserved for the chosen few! I’ve defied the monopoly!
…
Sorin: For heaven’s sake, he wanted to please you.
Irina: And I was willing to listen, even to his ravings, but his claims to new forms, they’re pretentious. Since when has the exhibition of a morbid personality been a new art form?
Boris: Everyone writes what he wants and as best he can.
Irina: Well, then let him write what he wants and as best he can. Just tell him to please leave me in peace.
…
Irina [as Nina leaves]: Poor girl. Literally. Her mother died and left everything to her father, but when he dies, he’s leaving everything to his new wife. Nina won’t get a cent. She’ll have nothing. It’s scandalous.
Doctor [with Nina overhearing]: Yes. To be frank, her father is a monster.
…
Doctor: I liked your play very much. It’s definitely strange. And I didn’t hear the end, of course, but it made a strong impression on me. You’re a talented man. You need to continue. You know, I’ve had a pretty interesting life. I’m content, but…If I ever got to experience the spiritual high an artist feels at the moment of creation, I bet I would abandon my current life, leave it all behind.
…
Irina [to Masha]: I work. I’m constantly doing something. I experience life. You just sit still in one place, not really living. And I have a rule. I never think about the future. I never think about old age or death. What will come in life will come.
…
Nina [after Konstantin shoots and kills a sesgull and then plops the dead bird at her feet]: What’s that supposed to mean?
Konstantin: I sank low enough today to kill this seagull. I lay it at your feet.
Nina: What’s wrong with you?
Konstantin: Soon, I’m gonna kill myself in the same way.
Nina [walking away from him]: Don’t follow me. I don’t know you like this.
Konstantin: I don’t know you like this! You look at me as if I’m a stranger. Are you embarrassed by me?
Nina: Well, lately, you’ve become so…you keep talking in symbols or…I mean, look at that seagull. What does that mean? Because, I’m sorry, Konstantin, but I have no idea. Maybe I’m too simple to understand you.
Konstantin: What don’t you understand? My play was a fiasco. Now you think I’m some insignificant nobody just like the rest of them do!
[she hurries away]
Konstantin: Nina! Nina!!
…
Boris: It’s not often I have the occasion to meet young, interesting women. I mean it. I’ve already forgotten what it’s like to be 18 or 19. That’s why the young women in my books and stories don’t ring true. I’d love to be in your shoes for just an hour, know how you think, what kind of little creature you are.
Nina: Well, I’d love to be in your shoes, to know how it feels to be a celebrated writer.
…
Nina: I envy you. Some people can barely crawl through their dull, obscure existence, but you get a life that’s brilliant, interesting, meaningful. You’re happy.
Boris [chuckling]: Am I? Here you are talking about fame, happiness. To me, you sound a bit naive.
Nina [now angry storms away]: Well, to me, you sound jaded and pompous.
Boris [catching up with her]: All right. Wait. Come back. Wait. All right. Let’s talk about my beautiful, brilliant life. How do I begin? Day and night, I am haunted by a single, obsessive thought. “I must write. I must write. I must write.” No sooner do I finish one story, then, for God knows what reason, I have to write another, and another, and another. What’s so beautiful and brilliant about that? It’s a ridiculous life. Here I am. I’m talking to you. I’m getting all riled up. You see that cloud over there? Looks like a grand piano. I’m thinking, I must fit that into a story sometime. “A cloud drifted by, looking like a grand piano.” I catch a whiff of heliotrope. I instantly make a mental note. “Cloying smell, color of widow’s weeds. Must refer to that next time I’m describing a summer’s evening.”
Nina: Go on.
…
Nina: Konstantin is constantly in his head, dreaming about his next work.
Boris: Well, when I was his age, many years ago, when you’re starting out, unknown and ignored, the work is sheer agony. But even then, even when you’re a lesser writer without any luck, you still want to be part of the literary scene.
Nina: But when you’re inspired, actually in the thick of creation, doesn’t that give you, just for that moment, a feeling of being lifted up, of sublime happiness?
…
Nina [watching Boris write in his notebook]: What are you writing?
Boris: An idea for a short story." A young girl who spent her whole life on the shore of a lake. A lake that she loves, where she feels happy and free, like a seagull. And? And by chance, a man comes along, sees her. And with nothing better to do…"[/b]
What she doesn’t hear but what we see in the notebook: “…destroys her.”
[b]Masha [after Konstantin shoots himself but lives]: I’ll be honest with you. If he had seriously hurt himself, I couldn’t live another minute. I have decided I am going to tear this love out of my heart. Just going to rip it out by the roots.
Boris: How are you gonna do that?
Masha: I’ll get married to Medvedenko.
Boris: I think that’s overdoing it.
Masha: Is it? Loving without hope. Waiting for years for something that will never come. You don’t know what I’ve been feeling. At least, when I’m married, I’ll have new troubles to blot out the old ones, right? But he’s a good person, and, well, he doesn’t have any money, but he loves me very much.
…
Boris: Not content with ruining his own life, Konstantin is hell-bent on ruining mine. He’s challenged me to a duel.
Masha: Oh, no.
Boris: Why? Because of my writing? There’s room enough for all of us.
Masha: Of course. But he’s jealous. You must know that.
…
Masha [to Bris]: Until next time, my friend. Send me your books, and be sure to write a dedication. And none of that “deepest regards” or “fond wishes.” Just write, “To Masha, who has no clue where she belongs or what she’s doing on this Earth.”
…
Konstantin: These last few days, I’ve loved you as tenderly and as honestly as I did when I was little. I have nobody but you now. I just don’t understand why…why do you let that man have such a hold over you?
Irina: You don’t know him, Konstantin. He’s noble.
Konstantin: “Noble”?
Irina: And you might not like the fact that we’re lovers, but you’re intelligent and cultured. Konstantin: I’m sorry. But we’re practically falling out over him, and right now, he’s in the garden with Nina, trying to convince her that he’s some sort of genius.
Irina: You seem to take pleasure in being horrible to me. I have the greatest respect for that man, and I will thank you not to speak of him like that - in my presence.
Konstantin: But I don’t respect him. I’m sorry, I can’t. His books are…they make me sick.
Irina: That’s envy. People who lack talent spend their time insulting those who have it. It’s their consolation prize.
Konstantin: Is that why you spend all your time insulting me? Because you have no talent?
Irina: No. You’re just being a baby.
Konstantin: Why? Because I’m not taken in by either of you?
Irina: Oh, yes, yes. My son, the radical.
Konstantin: Yeah, then go on, that’s it. Run away. Run away just like you always do. Run off to your cozy little theater and act in your pathetic, stupid little plays.
Irina [angrily]: I have never in my life appeared in a play of that description. I do as many celebrated classics as I do silly comedies. This winter, I’m touring in Macbeth.
Konstantin: Are you one of the witches?
Irina: I’m Lady Macbeth. Snide little nonentity. Get away from me. You, you can’t even write a wretched little comic sketch. Why don’t you just go back to Kiev and open a shop? Parasite.
Konstantin: Miser.
Irina: Rat’s nest!
Konstantin: Has-been!
Irina [pushing him away]: Nobody! You’re nobody!
…
Irina [to Konstantin]: There’s nothing to cry about. He’s going away. I promise. I am taking him away. And then she’ll love you again, and it’ll be all right.
…
Boris: Be reasonable. You’re capable of sacrifice. Be a true friend. Please, be generous. Let me go.
Irina: “Be generous”? What, are you that infatuated with her?
Boris: I’m attracted to her. I…this could be what’s missing in my life.
Irina: What? The love of a little country girl? That’s how little you know yourself?
Boris: I can’t stop thinking about her. Even now, I’m talking with you, but it’s as if I’m asleep. I’m possessed by the thought of her. This could be my last chance at a love like this. Please, I am begging you. Let me go.
Irina: No.
Boris: Let me go.
Irina: No, no, no. You can’t say those things to me, Boris. I’m just a woman like any other.
Boris: This is your chance to be a woman unlike any other.
Irina: You’re torturing me. Please, you’re scaring me.
Boris: I’ve never known love like this before. When I was young, I spent every minute struggling to survive, and now it’s in front of me, a love I’ve never known, and you want me to run away from it?!
Irina: You have lost your mind.
Boris: I don’t care! Please, let me go.
Irina: My dear, my darling, wonderful man. My life’s last page. If you leave me even for an instant, I just won’t be alive at the end of it. My magician. My prince. My king in all his glory.
Boris: Somebody could come in at any minute.
Irina: Let them. I’m not ashamed of loving you, and I am not setting you free. You are the most brilliant writer in Russia. Your work has such integrity and simplicity and humor. Your characters are alive. Do you realize that it is impossible to read you without getting swept up? What? You think I’m flattering you. Look at me. Look into my eyes. Am I lying to you? I’m the only one who always tells you the truth. Always. You’ll come with me, won’t you? Don’t abandon me.
Boris: I have no will of my own. Never have. I’m spineless, weak, submissive. Is that what women really want? Take me. Take me away. Just don’t relax your grip for an instant.
…
Boris; We’re leaving. I’m sorry.
Nina: It’s all right. We’ll see each other again. I’ve made up my mind once and for all. I’m going on the stage. Tomorrow, I’ll be gone from here. I’m leaving my father. I’m leaving everything. I’m going to start a new life. I’m going to Moscow.
Boris: Stay at the Slavyansky Bazaar. Let me know as soon as you arrive. I have to go.
Nina: Just another minute.
Boris: You’re so beautiful.[/b]
Two years later…
[b]Polina: My heart aches for you. I’m not blind.
Masha: Please don’t. It’s all ridiculous. Unrequited love. It only exists in novels. You can’t sit around always hoping that something will happen. If you start to feel love in your heart, you’ve got to rip it out.
…
Doctor: Where is Nina now, Kostya? How’s she doing?
Konstantin: She’s all right, I think.
Doctor: I heard she’d been leading a somewhat untidy life.
Konstantin: Nina’s, uh… It’s a very long story.
Sorin: Well, make it brief.
Konstantin: Well, she left home and went to live with Boris, so that much you know. They had a baby, who died. Not long after, Boris got tired of her. He went back to his old ties, as you might expect, or rather he never let go of them. Having no backbone, he was able to bend both ways.
Doctor: And what about the stage?
Konstantin: She debuted in a theater outside of Moscow, then left for a tour of the provinces. She took on all the big roles, but she acted coarsely. Tastelessly. Lots of shrieking and big, ugly gestures. There were moments when you could see her talent, when she was crying or dying. I tried to see her once after a performance. I waited at her stage door like a beggar, but she won’t see anyone.
…
Boris: Masha.
Maha; You recognized me.
Boris: You’re married now?
Masha: Yes.
Boris: You’re happy?
Masha: I’m married.
…
Nina [weeping]: Your mother brought him with her?
Konstantin: Nina. Nina, don’t cry.
Nina: So, you’re a real writer now. And I’m an actress. We both jumped into the fire. I dreamed of glory, and now look at me. First thing tomorrow, I’m off to Yelets. Booked there for the winter season. Traveling third-class with the peasants.
Konstantin: Why wouldn’t you ever see me?
Nina: I thought you hated me.
Konstantin: I did. Hate you. I cursed you.
Nina: If you had any idea of what my life has been like…
Konstantin: I do. And none of that matters to me. I don’t have the power to stop loving you. Even now…now I’ve had success. Without you, my life has been…please…stay here with me. Or let me come with you.
Nina: No.
Konstantin: Nina, what’s wrong?
Nina: You shouldn’t still love me. I should be killed.
Konstantin: Don’t say that.
Nina [crying]: I’m so tired. I need a rest. I’m the seagull. No, I’m an actress.
Konstantin: Nina…
Nina: You know, he laughed at me. He made fun of my acting. When I started onstage, I… God, I didn’t…I didn’t know what to do with my hands. I didn’t know where to stand. I couldn’t… I couldn’t control my voice. You have no idea how it feels to be onstage and know how badly you’re acting.
Konstantin: You’re a wonderful actress.
Nina: No, I’m the seagull. I’m the seagull. I’m the seagull!
…
Nina: I’ve been walking and walking and thinking, and I know now that, for us, what counts isn’t dreaming about fame and glory, but it’s about endurance. It’s about knowing how to keep going in spite of everything. Having faith in myself, that’s helped.
Konstantin: But what if I have no faith in myself or any clue where I’m going or what I’m doing?
Nina: I have to go.
Konstantin: I’m coming with you.
Nina: No.
Konstantin: Well, then stay here, please, Nina.
Nina: No.
Konstantin: Nina, please, stay here.
Nina: Stop asking me. I can’t! I can’t.
Konstantin: Why?
Nina: Because I love him! Because I still love him. I love him more than before.
…
Nina [to Konstantin]: Remember how good it was before? Everything was so simple and clear.
…
Irina: Don’t give me that look.
Sorin: No, no, no. You’ll be scared, too, when it’s your turn.
Doctor: The only people who can fear death rationally are those who believe in life hereafter, because they fear retribution for their sins. But you…First, you don’t believe. And secondly, what sins? You haven’t done anything, except spend 25 years in the Department of Justice.
Sorin: Twenty-eight.[/b]
The sound of an explosion.
[b]Doctor: Probably a little explosion in my medical bag. Nothing to worry about. Happens all the time. I’ll go see.
[he leaves the room and then returns]
Doctor: Just as I thought. A small bottle of ether exploded. My apologies.
Irina: Oh, everything went black for a moment. I thought…
…
Nina [voiceover off camera]: “All lives, all lives all lives, having accomplished their doleful circle, have died out. Already, thousands of centuries have passed since the Earth has borne one living creature. And in vain, the poor moon shines her light.”[/b]