Summarize this content to 2000 words in 6 paragraphs in Arabic Unlock the Editor’s Digest for freeRoula Khalaf, Editor of the FT, selects her favourite stories in this weekly newsletter.Move over Tom Hiddleston. He may have some cool moves (as demonstrated in the West End’s current Much Ado) but can he do the splits? Cate Blanchett can — and does, in Thomas Ostermeier’s terrific new staging of The Seagull. She also tap dances. It’s a dazzling performance at the heart of a superbly acted production bristling with wit, compassion and intelligence, playfully reframing Chekhov’s 1895 drama about fame, love and the meaning of art for our turbulent times.Blanchett is Irina Arkádina, a renowned actress who has made the cardinal mistake of passing 40, and is now spiralling and seizing the spotlight in any given situation. Blanchett, 55, mischievously splices her own fame with that of her character, playing into the audience reaction as Arkádina pitches up in an attention-grabbing purple boiler suit to watch an experimental play by her earnest son, Konstantin. And, throughout, Ostermeier and playwright Duncan Macmillan refresh the drama’s concerns with fame, with truth and artifice, and with the human urge to find meaning and validation.Konstantin dreams of a new theatrical form and denounces popular plays but, for us, he is a character in precisely such a play. His avant-garde theatre piece deploys virtual reality, obliging the other characters to wear headsets, but this results in comedy as they flail about, responding to a “reality” we can’t see. Meanwhile, the successful novelist Trigorin appears to have mastered the art of capturing “real life” but worries that his skill has become a deadening habit. Some characters long for fame, others despise it; everyone seeks a purpose in life and pretty much everyone is in love with the wrong person.In the original, you can feel Chekhov challenging the theatrical conventions of the day while also questioning the authenticity of his own endeavour. Time has added a new layer of complexity — repetition can render even the most radical art as lifeless as a stuffed seagull. Ostermeier takes up the baton, constantly undercutting his own show with quizzical playfulness. Characters drift about, break the fourth wall, observe that they are in a Chekhov play, question the point, and occasionally seize one of the onstage mics to make some defiant statement — possibly to the audience, possibly to the universe. Magda Willi’s design reduces Arkádina’s estate to a motley collection of garden furniture and a thicket of reeds, through which people clamber to make their entrances. The irony is that the more the show sends itself up or reminds us that this is a play, the more real these poignantly recognisable characters become. That’s partly thanks to a fabulous ensemble. Tom Burke brings a mix of baffled weariness and shrewd opportunism to Trigorin, while Kodi Smit-McPhee as the tormented Konstantin and Emma Corrin as the radiant, would-be actress Nina, are heartbreaking as their dreams are ripped away. There’s a brilliant performance from Tanya Reynolds as Masha, sinking fast into embittered alcoholism, and another from Jason Watkins as Arkádina’s invalid brother. And there’s Blanchett’s magnificent Arkádina, boasting that she could still play Juliet, but disintegrating when she sees Trigorin fall for a younger woman. They all feel achingly true, perplexed by their roles in life and cast adrift on this giant stage.The production loses momentum as the darker shadows gather and it sags in the third act. Even so, this ingenious staging wrestles with the role of art while quietly demonstrating its truth.★★★★☆To April 5, barbican.org.uk
