Lisa's Reviews > Uncle Vanya
Uncle Vanya
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I really think there should be the option "seen" on Å·±¦ÓéÀÖ for the plays we experience on stage. It is much more powerful than merely reading them.
Spending a few days in London with my three teenagers last week, we all agreed on the favourite treats: the two (very different) theatre performances we watched, one of which was Uncle Vanya at the Harold Pinter Theatre in Westend.
Those scenes in the end, when Uncle Vanya, Astrov and Sonya reflect on their suffering, and find hope in the idea that the future will make their individual pain obsolete, and that people will find better ways to communicate and share with each other, for better relationships to develop! The double pain you feel as a spectator, knowing they were so wrong about the future, and so right about assessing their own misery!
We still cater to narcissistic energy vampires and long for love in the most hopeless places. We still suffer from a lopsided supply in desire and attraction towards undeserving people for superficial reasons. We still struggle to find our role in families where different needs and wishes clash with brutal force, and we still find solace in committing to everyday tasks to stay sane - "cultiver notre jardin", as Voltaire's Candide would have put it after experiencing the craziness we call the world.
Watching the raw emotions play out on stage while the world keeps feeding the insane frenzy of a few powerful all-consuming egos is a strong indication of Aristotelian cathartic healing actually working to a certain degree.
For you leave the misery on stage and walk out into the London night, watching people leaving theatres around you, and despite all, you feel a tiny bit better and more hopeful.
As long as theatres set up plays, not all is lost!
Spending a few days in London with my three teenagers last week, we all agreed on the favourite treats: the two (very different) theatre performances we watched, one of which was Uncle Vanya at the Harold Pinter Theatre in Westend.
Those scenes in the end, when Uncle Vanya, Astrov and Sonya reflect on their suffering, and find hope in the idea that the future will make their individual pain obsolete, and that people will find better ways to communicate and share with each other, for better relationships to develop! The double pain you feel as a spectator, knowing they were so wrong about the future, and so right about assessing their own misery!
We still cater to narcissistic energy vampires and long for love in the most hopeless places. We still suffer from a lopsided supply in desire and attraction towards undeserving people for superficial reasons. We still struggle to find our role in families where different needs and wishes clash with brutal force, and we still find solace in committing to everyday tasks to stay sane - "cultiver notre jardin", as Voltaire's Candide would have put it after experiencing the craziness we call the world.
Watching the raw emotions play out on stage while the world keeps feeding the insane frenzy of a few powerful all-consuming egos is a strong indication of Aristotelian cathartic healing actually working to a certain degree.
For you leave the misery on stage and walk out into the London night, watching people leaving theatres around you, and despite all, you feel a tiny bit better and more hopeful.
As long as theatres set up plays, not all is lost!
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Reading Progress
Started Reading
March 2, 2020
– Shelved
March 2, 2020
– Shelved as:
drama
March 2, 2020
–
Finished Reading
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message 1:
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Ivana
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Mar 02, 2020 09:56AM

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Yes, it is entirely different on stage!

I really like your idea of "misfitting" in a similar way, Ilse! That is how I would see myself as well :-)

We might easily have crossed paths, you know—I was at the same production in the last couple of weeks. Weren't the sets marvellous? And the lighting, not to mention Toby Litt!

We might easily have crossed paths, you know—I..."
Toby Litt was so good he outshone everyone else!! Now I will always cherish this play even more, imagining us sitting there at the same time. Did you see a Swedish mum with three teenagers anywhere, Fionnuala? That was me then :-)


I don't think we could have been there on the same night, Lisa. I'm thinking we'd recognise each other a mile off—that whiff of ink, you know;-)
