ABSTRACT
At the Arts Theatre Club, it has been possible and profitable to see a revival of Chekhov's ‘The Seagull,’ with almost the same cast as gave the play about three years ago. Perhaps we are all more familiar with Chekhov than I was then, but each time I see ‘The Seagull,’ it seems less satisfactory as a play. The theme, that of a large number of persons, all ratés yet all ‘with something in them,’ getting more and more embedded in their egoism, is monotonous, the pattern is generally shallow and arbitrary, and the final dénouement, paradoxical and out of tune. Further, the first three acts merely seem a succession of isolated short stories, with lines running so nearly parallel that they are hardly likely to meet this side of infinity. Some of these difficulties might be met by a magnificent producer, but on this occasion no attempt whatever seemed to have been made to ‘produce’ the actors, who appeared to go full steam ahead without any reference to each other or a general scheme. Further the decor, which might have given the play some sort of musical quality, was neither aggreable to look upon nor in any way interpretative of the general theme of the play.
