It’s now 50 years since the Crucible Theatre first opened, and to celebrate here comes Anna Karenina. (Warning: but not as we all know it!) Devotees who adore steeping themselves in the whole atmosphere engendered by a Russian psychological novel may well mutter a disappointed “Oooer!” But you can’t please all the people all the time, and this may be right up the Nevsky Prospect of those who prefer a more surreal, metaphorical, smash-and-grab approach to their entertainment.
Tolstoy’s 1878 literary masterpiece, a groundbreaking, 8-part psychological novel has, at its core, an intense story of the quest for love, happiness and a meaningful life versus knuckling down to duty and convention. Result? Mental mess and turmoil. The main story traces the tragedy of an unhappily married woman who opts for adulterous love with a glamorous young Count over an empty life of marital duty, at a time when Russian society, like our Victorian society, was ruled by strict social conventions and moral codes, above all for women. The novel takes us directly into the minds and thought processes of the characters as their lives develop, and immerses the reader in a Russian era that offered bleak, stark lives to the impoverished peasants who endlessly toiled while the elegant, social elite wined, dined and danced. The special characters and relationships of people in Anna’s circle strongly interweave and develop throughout, like those of land-owner Konstantin Levin, who struggles, like Anna, to find meaning to life, thinking he’d somehow be far happier and more worthy were he a toiling peasant.
Helen Edmundson’s 1992 award-winning stage version strips out socio-political and religious deliberations and centres on the converging and diverging lives of Anna and Levin, as Anna heads towards destruction and Levin towards a more accepting life. To convey their thoughts, the play has them speak directly to one another across the stage, the events they relate setting each new scene that’s straightaway enacted.
In director Anthony Lau’s Crucible unsubtle production, forget Russia, forget historical period and the restrained social conventions of the day, forget how people talked, moved and were forced to behave back then. Instead, bring in modern, unreserved body language, gait, speech and unrestrained partying and expression of emotion; then throw in comedy and gaudy gimmicks galore at every turn – bizarre costumes involving shiny, glittery, netty fabrics, leggings, trainers, jockey caps and whips, hula hoops, megaphones, glitter-ball, remote-control train, massive 5-tier cake, a gender-non-specific son for Anna, a flamingo inflatable (pink) and sparklers (that won’t always light). No kitchen sink? No, but a bath is wheeled on, in which Anna’s loud, frolicking, philandering brother, Stiva (Solomon Israel) sips at giant cocktails. His finest outfit is a gold suit with shiny, shiny, gold shoes and he’s certainly full of himself. Princess Betsy (Sarah Seggari) is a flamboyant cross between Dame Edna and Kathy Burke’s Waynetta Slob, while Dolly (Isis Davis) is far from demure in leggings and trainers, and Kitty (Tara Tijani) is all pinkness and net. While Levin’s and Karenin’s outfits show more historic drabness and the peasants sport headscarves, Anna appears in various configurations of black and Count Vronsky mainly in his customary white uniform, but they’re outdone by gaudiness hands down.
The sunken floor of the set resembles a stark, grey circus arena at first, where unfolds the complicated business of jumping through the hoops of life, and (like Anna’s mind) it also fills with mess and crud: sawdust, shiny party glitter and abundant cake debris persist till the end. At the back, steamy mist-filled, elegant door-slits and rows of flickering lights give a Tardis effect to entries and exits. And what about ominous train shrieks, sound-scapes from gentle music to loud throbs, pulsating lights, a ticking clock of Fate, monstrous-looking steampunk harbingers of death, modern music and dancing, and bursts of fateful Tchaikovsky Four and an updated Kalinka? Mais oui!
Of course, with so much going on in a play that already has a fragmented scene structure, the blossoming of convincing characters and relationships is somewhat smothered and, with insufficient air to breathe, they never fully come to life to develop as rounded characters, whose lives and relationships we fully buy into. When Nick Fletcher’s Karenin talks of Anna’s lack of propriety and his wounded honour, in view of all the riotous behaviour around him, it feels like another comic moment. With more “air time”, though, Adelle Leonce puts in a grand performance as Anna, her lust-match dance with the Count bringing a touch of chemistry, and her descent into morphia-induced hallucinations and total melt-down being given full-on treatment as fearful paranoia and despair finally overwhelm her. The finale arrives in a bit of a rush so Douggie McMeakin’s lumpen, gauche, despondent, un-nuanced Levin doesn’t really achieve a convincing, optimistic epiphany, nor does the lethal train quite deliver the full-force, squish
ing emotional impact it should.
The audience left in varying states of euphoria, disappointment or bewilderment, and riotous applause did not detain the cast.
Eileen Caiger Gray
Anna Karenina runs at The Crucible until 26th February.
