A five-strong musical gypsy band rove Russia performing five Chekhov short stories. Eliot Giuralrocca’s adaptation editing and directing In and Out of Chekhov’s Shorts delivers the earthiest of Chekhovian tangs at the Southwark Borough Large for the briefest of revivals. 

This tour really ought to continue though. It’s outstanding and revelatory. Five stories, refracted through music and Victoria Spearing’s superbly stylised portable set. A piano with a dust sheet hiding its function, two barrels and a plank for a seat, a range of brilliantly stylised props. 

But it’s the actors who become the biggest ones, and this ensemble are in complete synch in prop-and-prat-falls: it’s theatrical platinum. A husband in memory pops up in a picture frame, a black-cloth-beheaded actor becomes an inkstand, or swivels as a door with a shop-bell on it. 

Everything’s as kinetic, engrossing visually and aurally. Nothing of Chekhovian ennui here: it’s like fire seen through a vodka bottle. Claire Childs’ lighting suggests that too, sometimes red, a glowing book at one point. 

Chekhov’s inherently dramatic tragi-comic stories, often acclaimed the world’s finest, aren’t his plays. They’re different in temper, kind, even class: more peasants and poor people throng them. There’s primary colours and broader comedy. They’re more intimate, telegraphic, more  story, less nuanced dialogue and more twist: uniquely poised on the cusp  of change. In unfulfilled lives, thwarted women and men glimpse – through brief joy in adultery and love-affairs, drink – a larger, possible being. 

So forget Trevor Nunn’s magnificent Uncle Vanya currently at the Orange Tree. If anything, Andrew Scott’s Vanya enjoys kinship here. Five unrelated stories connected in one arc from  youth to experience through premature cynicism. And one story is masquerading. 

The Chemist’s Wife features Elizabeth Snegir, a young wife married to a man she doesn’t love: “God how unhappy I am, and nobody  knows” is a Chekhov signature tune. Soon an army doctor Graeme Dalling, and his companion Chris Agha who’ve noticed how attractive the young  woman is, make an excuse to enter the shop whilst the chemist sleeps. Soon they’re flirting and singing, consuming the purchased drink with her. But can it last? 

It’s quietly heartbreaking. The moment the young wife, with the husband woken, lets fly a note out of the window immediately taken up is one of those breathtaking pieces of theatre: a love note? It is, but not from her, and it is, but it isn’t. We’re into the second story, At a Summer Villa, and Giuralrocca’s cleverly reworked tiny details to suggest a kind of DNA through the tales if the same people experience things in a parallel universe or different time. It’s subtle too, doesn’t need taking literally. 

Subtlety isn’t the hallmark in this tale though, but hilarious guile. Verity Bajoria as the irritated eight-years-wife of Dalling’s Pavel Ivanitch might know more than she lets on when he receives a mysterious  note, perhaps from that same young woman in a blue beret (take from the next story), trilling a flute. Snegir again. But Pavel’s brother-in-law Mitya (Agha) turns up to the tryst too. The denouement’s abruptly comic. 

The cores of Giuralrocca’s work though are the third story and fifth piece, actually a short play. The Lady with a Little Dog is split over the interval, relating the attraction and lazy seduction by  Giuralrocca’s Gurov, pushing 40, of Sengir’s 22-year-old Anna Sergeyevna. It becomes significantly more. After their brief affair Gurov follows her to her home town. 

It’s beautifully realised between the actors, Snegir’s ardent impulsiveness and drawing-back, Giuralrocca’s easy seduction crumbling in the face of real passion, as each contemplates what to do about their unhappy marriages. 

An Avenger involves most of all Dalling’s shopkeeper desperately trying to sell cuckolded husband Sigaev (Agha) the right pistol to kill his wife and her lover – Snegir and Giuralrocca -who obligingly repeat their sexual excesses on rewind every time he contemplates who to kill. And the pistols? They’re all bound twigs. 

Ultimately though it’s Dalling’s magnificent frustration trying to push Agha to the supreme Smith and Wesson and the denouement, that’s the killer here. Dalling’s reserves of comedic energy and micro-inflection seem boundless. 

The Bear, a short play almost as long as The Lady, doesn’t need much adapting, and is often played (it’s even a one-act 1967 opera by Walton). Despite this it has more in common with the  stories and is quite early. 

Barjora’s a young widow Elena Popova, who refuses to see anyone after her faithless husband’s death. But Giuralrocca’s Smirnov’s arrived with a 1200 rouble IOU from her husband she must pay back, and it ends with  pistols (cue the Smith and Wesson repeater joke). The rest of the cast (Agha’s servant Luka) are brought in, ordered to fed the horses another bag of oats, or none at all. And Smirnov has the oats. 

Tom Neill’s musical adaptations mean actors play double or triple  instruments over the five stories, Snegir is a fine flautist,  accordion-player, and consummate pianist, in the shrouded piano that Bajoria mostly plays with thrilling octaves (more on that later too), when not whirling on the violin or guitar. There’s Dalling’s folksy clarinet too. 

Neill’s tangy adaptations take from several folk sources including  the famous ‘Kalinka’, some Pushkin settings and rare Glinka. But most of all in The Lady and the Little Dog there’s Aleksandrovina  Kashperova (1872-1940), Stravinsky’s teacher whose late-romantic works are being rediscovered: her Piano Trio and two Cello Sonatas are regularly played. Here there’s her Piano Suite In Nature’s Realm refracted mainly through piano, but echoed hauntingly elsewhere. 

Dalling’s the most protean of the ensemble, given roles where he shapeshifts and riffs on exaggerated despair or exasperation: but all are superb. That’s whether it’s Barjora’s humorous realism and self-defeating fury at her own desire; Agha’s stentorian roars the most physically imposing and yet blindsided; the pathos yet burning desire for something better in Snegir who yet brings twirls of humour; or writer/director Giuralrocca and his reflective characters measured by how far they question their own cynicism. 

This is outstanding. It reframes Chekhov, renders his stories as cousins not siblings of his plays, The Bear and other early shorts excepted. And in a fluidity of new connections  renders them kin. After this, there’s no other way to tell Chekhov dramatically that he’s not already nailed down in a play himself. Chekhov would have loved it. 

Published March 24, 2024 by Simon Jenner

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️  ADVENTURES IN THEATRELAND

Eliot Giuralarocca’s In and Out of Chekhov’s Shorts is a highly creative, ensemble led production that uses live music and innovative storytelling devices to plunge the audience into the very heartfelt and hilarious stories of Chekhov’s men and women. 

The humour of Chekhov’s writing is brought out with skilled ability and timing by all of the cast, which although has the audience laughing in aplomb, also rings very true. Tales of love, sex and fights between the genders all unravel over two hours which fly by. 

The cast should be commended for performing Russian characters with bold temperaments, and not doing what British theatre so often does with Chekhov by anglicising the behaviour. Chris Agha and Graeme Dalling work marvellously as a comedic duo in the first story ‘The Chemist’s Wife’, which culminates in an effectively joyful and randy rendition of ‘Kalinka’. ‘The Lady with the Dog’ follows, which is performed with depth and subtlety by Elisabeth Snegir and Eliot Giuralarocca who bring the romance to life. Verity Bajoria has great musical flair and shines in the final story ‘The Bear’ with dry humour and steely eyes. Through cleverly linking these short stories, Giuralarocca reveals the great theatrical potential that they pose. 

Strong atmospheres are created by the cast who effortlessly manoeuvre between musical instruments to create a clever live underscore, and there is creative use of minimal props and set. At one point a letter flutters by on a branch as a bird in flight, thrown into the air by a woman hidden behind a wooden frame to symbolise a window. Victoria Spearing’s brilliant set is memorable and provides a playground in which the cast are able to create such vivid scenes. The evening is filled with creative moments like this, where Dragonboy Theatre shines through with their intelligent and unique creative vision. 

This is a company to watch out for and hopefully, they will be back soon with more.

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️  THE PLAY'S THE THING

For five performances only (sadly this not a full run), Dragonboy  Productions have produced this adventurous adaption of five Chekov short  stories: The Lady with the Little Dog, The Chemist’s Wife, At a Summer Villa, An Avenger and The Bear.  

Eliot Giuralarocca has skilfully adapted and directed these five  stories. A brilliant cast of five, including Giuralarocca himself, give  the stories a dynamic, farcical structure which plays brilliantly in the  large space at Southwark Playhouse 

The stage is sparse. The premise is that this is a group of Russian  travelling performers. Nothing is naturalistic. Instead, small props are  used to indicate doorways, windows, and so forth. Impressively, all sound effects are also live and analogue; nothing is pre-recorded. eautifully incorporated throughout, most of the pieces include the cast  singing Russian folk songs. Elisabeth Snegir in particular sings  beautifully in Russian. Each of the actors ends up playing multiple  characters throughout each of the stories as well as each playing  musical instruments to accompany the songs. One criticism is that the  singing isn’t used consistently throughout all the stories, which is a  pity as they’re brilliantly performed. 

It’s a show that makes huge demands of the cast, and they all perform to the highest standard. At a post-show Q&A, it is revealed that two  of the cast members only had ten days to learn the entire show.  Amazingly, I don’t think anyone could tell which two of the performers they were. 

What’s most refreshing about this adaptation is that Giuralarocca has been faithful to Chekhov without being deferential to him. This adaptation brings out the farce in Chekhov’s writing, and the strong emotional neuroses of the characters. Some British productions in the past have been guilty of taking his plays too seriously, but this is a very enjoyable evening of escapist fun. 

I look forward to seeing more of  this company’s work in the future

THERE OUGHT TO BE CLOWNS

In and Out of Chekhov’s Shorts offers a playfully different take on the Russian playwright at Southwark Playhouse 

"God how unhappy I am, and nobody knows." In and Out of Chekhov's Shorts certainly has a great title but presented here by Dragonboy Productions, it also has a unique take on the great Russian dramatist. Adapted by Eliot Giuralarocca, this collection of five short stories has been structured into a single experience, a group of Russian travelling players gathered for our pleasure and bringing a lightness to this Chekhovian world that we don’t often get to see in his plays.

That’s not to say that we’re looking at Chekhov’s stand-up era here. The people who populate The Lady with the Little Dog, The Chemist’s Wife, At a Summer Villa, An Avenger and The Bear are entirely recognisable in their endless ennui and vexation at life. But Giuralarocca, who also directs, increasingly focuses on the farce of it all, never letting the neurotic behaviour be taken too seriously as  he subtly links the tales as all different facets of the human  experience.

Using an actor musician company of five proves a canny move. Chris Agha, Verity Bajoria, Graeme Dalling, Elisabeth Snegir and Giuralarocca  who performs on top of all his other roles relish the opportunity to  both multi-role across all the stories but also to carry some of those  characters from one to the other, creating connective tissue across the  show. The script sometimes has its challenges as it seeks to meld  dialogue and narration with some heavy-duty monologuing but they pretty much sell it.

The real joy comes through Tom Neill’s original songs, drawing deeply  from the well of Russian folk traditions. Not only are they covering  multiple roles but the company also play multiple instruments, bringing  in clarinet, accordion, flute, fiddle, guitar and more alongside some  cracking piano playing and stunning choral work to really flesh out the  complex emotional worlds underscoring the storytelling here. 

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐ Short stories like never before...Heartwarming, humorous, lyrical and utterly delightful...A Celebration of life's unpredictability. Not one to miss! VISIT LEEDS

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐ A beautifully interweaving set of fleeting tales. ALWAYS TIME FOR THEATRES

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ Exhilarating, fun and accessible with an absolutely joyful playfulness, the production sparkles with wonderful touches DORSET ECHO

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ Compelling, original..funny..it flows along like a well oiled machine. 

SARDINES MAGAZINE

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️  Bravo!...The cast played a blinder..What a witty whip-smart production this is. 

THE GREENWICH VISITOR

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ Unusual artistic cohesion...complex and very skillfully thought out. THE STAGE