This Seagull is more of a dead duck
Dir Michael Mayer Starring Annette Bening, Elisabeth Moss, Saoirse Ronan, Corey Stoll, Brian Dennehy, Michael Zegen, Billy Howle, Jon Tenney, Mare Winningham
Chekhov’s The Seagull is hard enough to pull off in its original medium, let alone in an ultraliteral, choppily condensed, unevenly cast film. In Michael Mayer’s new version, the cast labour to only fitful effect. As comedy, as tragedy, or as anything much in between, the drama obstinately refuses to come to life.
Stephen Karam’s screenplay starts with a brief flash-forward to Act IV – bingo in the drawing room, a distraught Konstantin (Billy Howle) at the piano, and much fuss made about the failing health of Sorin (Brian Dennehy). It’s a cheap ruse, hijacking the play’s timeline for then-and-now contrast. Mayer is not particularly helped by the pairing of Howle and Saoirse Ronan (as Nina) for the second time this year, although it’s fair to say both are better than they were in On Chesil Beach.
Levity, though, is almost wholly missing. Konstantin gets to deliver one taunt, when his mother, fading actress Arkadina (Annette Bening), boasts about her forthcoming role in Macbeth – “what, as one of the witches?”
Corey Stoll gives the film’s most assured performance as the clever, faithless Trigorin – his dialogue comes over as consistently wittier and more fluid than anyone else’s. But Elisabeth Moss plays poor, self-pitying Masha, with bitter spite and an odd lack of understanding.
Bening finds profound moments when she realises how close her lover is to leaving her: a frank talk with him at the dressing table is easily the film’s most affecting scene. But when we’re back to Act IV proper, it’s with a clunk, and the climax feels curiously by-the-by. You hope for the film to convey a sense of human loss: what you get is a faintly so-whattish drama about a dead bird.