Vanya and Sonia and Masha and Spike
Where: Belfry Theatre
When: To May 17
Rating 4 1/2 out of 5
A terrific comedic performance is a wonderful thing to behold. There were at least two on opening night of the Belfry Theatre’s fine production of Vanya and Sonia and Masha and Spike.
One was offered by Brenda Robins, who on Thursday was splendid as Masha, making her movie-star character hilariously brittle and frenetic. Deborah Williams, as her wallflower sister Sonia, was equally fine — an understated performance defined by sharp-shooter comic timing.
These gifted actors alone make Vanya and Sonia and Masha and Spike worth the price of admission. Happily, Christopher Durang’s Tony-winning 2012 comedy, an ebullient homage to Anton Chekov, has even more going for it.
Directed by Michael Shamata with clarity and balance, it’s very much an ensemble success, with acting that ranges from slapstick to subtle sighs and whispers. The satisfying script is amusing (it does go on a bit, but that’s a quibble). The set, a lovely old arts-and-crafts house, is excellent and makes one want to move in immediately. This is smart, literate comedy created by a playwright and a theatre company who know exactly what they’re doing.
Vanya and Sonia and Masha and Spike is the tale of two middle-aged sisters and their middle-aged brother. A self-absorbed New Yorker, Masha is on a weekend visit to the rural Pennsylvania house once owned by her late parents. It’s home to Sonia, who’s fretful and rather dull, and Vanya (R.H. Thomson), who’s less fretful and also dull. A pair of misfits reminiscent of the oddball siblings in Anne Tyler’s The Accidental Tourist, Sonia and Vanya don’t work — Masha pays the mortgage and their upkeep.
The actress arrives with boy-toy Spike (the grinning Lee Majdoub), a vacuous yet pleasant young actor. He almost got hired for the Entourage 2 TV series and likes to ponce about in his underwear. Masha announces that everyone is to attend a costume party. She will dress as Snow White; typically, she’s decided her siblings will play supporting roles, garbed as a pair of dwarfs.
This is theatre for urbane, educated middle-class audiences. Vanya and Sonia and Masha and Spike is stuffed with literary references that are fun to pick out. Yet one needn’t be a classics scholar to enjoy the show. Chekov is the main touchstone. Durang’s dramatis personae (Yoshie Bancroft plays an ingenue named Nina) are named after the Russian playwright’s characters. The comedy is a funhouse mirror of reflecting plot elements from The Seagull, Three Sisters and The Cherry Orchard. A recurring bit is Sonia’s insistence the property’s nine or 10 cherry trees do indeed constitute an “cherry orchard.”
A prescient housekeeper called Cassandra (Carmela Sison) is named after the Greek prophet.
Durang deftly captures the ennui and static tone typical of Chekov. It’s done with affection and skill; the play in many ways is a love letter to a great playwright. He lobs great faux-Chekov utterances, such as Masha’s “You both look the same. Older, sadder … but the same.” And this exchange — Sonia: “Our lives are over, aren’t they?” Vanya: “Yes, I think so.”
A juicy role, Masha scores many of the funny lines. Yet both Sonia and Vanya have their moments to gleam. Williams was superb during her most telling sequence, a poignant phone conservation with a suitor, which the actress delivered with consummate skill and nuance (the woman next to me was snuffling).
Thomson’s big scene is a reaction to Spike, who rudely texts when Vanya’s play is being staged inside the house. In an eccentric rant, Vanya decries the modern world, waxing nostalgic for Ozzie and Harriet, Old Yeller and Senor Wences while lamenting technology and climate change. It’s kooky and heartfelt; one senses we’re experiencing a real side of Durang, a baby boomer.
The diatribe is intended to be climatic, but on this particular night, Thomson didn’t quite find his groove. Somehow, the sequence seemed a touch hollow, and it reminded us that the play is rather long. Elsewhere, Thomson was more effective, making Vanya as pleasantly bland and comfortable as an old pair of bedroom slippers.