Review: Theatricum Botanicum’s ‘The Seagull: Malibu’ Inspires as a Relatable Retelling of Chekhov’s Classic

The following review is based on the Thursday, August 28th performance when Andy Stokan performed the role of Ted in place of Steven C. Fisher.

Adapter and director Ellen Geer splendidly captures Anton Chekhov’s late 19th-century play, The Seagull, in a timeframe that happens several decades later along the Malibu coastline. Staged only mere miles from its namesake city in the sylvan hills of Topanga, The Seagull: Malibu tells an engrossingly dramatic story with pain oftentimes disguised as levity. Not to mention, a timeless work of art, now couched in a familiar and relatable setting, has become newly accessible to generations of attendees.

Vocational and personal ambitions, purpose, validation, regrets, drifting hearts, and unrequited love take precedent in a two-act roller coaster of emotions — this time in the 1970s, an era on the heels of the free-love movement, when goals have become centralized in individuals. A group of family, friends, and acquaintances, and all the laughs and dramatics that enfold them, descend on Malibu for a weekend and again years later, becoming forever entangled.

Captivatingly signifying the myopia and selfishness of the epoch is hammy old Hollywood actress Arkadina who has her younger lover and esteemed novelist Trigger at her side. This is to the chagrin of Arkadina’s son Constantine, an aspiring playwright, who yearns to have his mother’s support, but to no avail, particularly when he puts on an original play about the future devastation of global warming, featuring his star ingenue Nina. Constantine’s debut goes up in smoke, but this is only one of many conflicts and challenges. Arkadina’s older brother Thad is ailing, her manager Ivan has had just about enough, Ivan’s wife Paulina is agitated and unfulfilled, while Ivan and Paulina’s daughter Masha is battling a chronic despondency and is no less inclined to return the love of her partner, Ted, a meagerly paid schoolteacher. On the plus side, Dr. Dore, a holistic therapist, is a lone source of hope, reinforcing to Constantine his talent and enjoyment of a message on the “universal soul.”

While certain depictions and lines are satisfyingly played for laughs, the journey of these interrelated characters and their arcs never devolves into absurdity; in fact, anchored by the realistic and compelling portrayals of its actors, the play not only finds its footing as an on-point homage to Chekhov with rousing monologues, but ensures the morals it conveys resonates on a level that mirrors the seemingly brief peaks and interminable valleys of life.

Caught between the glory of her past and her motherly duties is Arkadina, portrayed with terrific nuance by Susan Angelo. Delusional as she may be in entertainingly flouncing across the stage or hilariously working out to “I Will Survive,” the apparently jealous Arkadina desires to be on good terms with her son even if she doesn’t understand his “science fiction.” This once hugely popular actress’s kryptonite is a lack of love — be it from her son or Trigger. Through Angelo, the audience identifies with a woman’s grasp on her own mortality in the wake of the sum of decisions she’s made.

Constantine, despite the pretentiousness of his inaugural artistic offering, is largely misunderstood. And even with possible success to be relished, he is still a boy at heart, craving the unconditional love of his mom who throws her hands up in frustration at her inability to financially support her son after spending copious amounts of money buying clothes for herself. What ravages Constantine the most, however, is his insatiable pining after Nina, even going so far as to shoot and kill a seagull to make an ill-advised statement. Christopher Glenn Gilstrap inhabits Constantine with both a fire — exemplified by a searing diatribe against Angelo’s Arkadina — and a crashing sadness that evokes waves of sympathy when his character uncontrollably sheds tears over Nina.

Nina brims with vitality, is expressive beyond measure, and is intriguingly melodramatic when she speaks of eternal matter, harmony, and humanity in the context of Constantine’s work. But whereas Constantine is in love with her, Nina is romantically drawn toward Trigger. The auburn-haired Caroline Quigley is magnetic as the iridescent Nina, conveying not just a vulnerability born out of her persona’s naïveté, but a sense of calm and resolve to continue on the path Nina has paved for herself in the face of a sobering tribulation that nearly derails her.

Trigger, who might seem laconic and coolly withdrawn on the surface, is fiercely taken with a persistent Nina who is seduced by the fame, recognition, and affirmation afforded by his writing. Rajiv Shah’s performance as Trigger really blooms during his heart-to-heart with Quigley’s Nina, when his character expounds on why his life is not as glamorous as it may seem, incessantly bound by the obligation of fulfilling the call of his gift, nagging at him as it does, like an obsession-fueled impediment that refuses to liberate him from living in the moment. Shah thoroughly gets across the soaring feeling of what it means to be understood by another who, notwithstanding being blinded by her own biases, listens intently without judgment.

The always clad-in-black Masha is a walking-and-talking delineation of a woman who is greatly discontented with her life, a melancholy only intensified by a never-to-be-actualized longing for Constantine who, unsurprisingly, wants little do with her. Willow Geer spectacularly throws herself into the throes of Masha who can be observed partaking in some combination of drinking, smoking, or acting disorderly. Like many weighed down by a devastating agony, though, Masha makes light of her suffering, or acts out foolishly to comedic effect, but underneath it all is a punished soul. The eyes never lie and Geer, whose countenance is distraught even when the audience is laughing, makes sure of this.

Filling in for Steven C. Fisher, actor Andy Stokan skillfully presents Ted with a do-gooder attitude in contrast to a simmering helplessness that is unmistakable, and which would undoubtedly cure itself if he stood up for himself. Moreover, Franc Ross makes for a pleasant Ivan who knows his value and can charmingly recall arbitrary memories on a whim; Katherine Griffith is delightful as the humorously high-strung Paulina who wouldn’t mind a rendezvous with Dr. Dore; Daniel Reichert’s doctor grounds the play as a fixed voice of reason and optimism; and, Tim Halligan delivers as an almost heartbreaking Thad who, in his wheelchair, ruefully reflects on all the goals he never accomplished.

Lighting designer Hayden Kirschbaum illuminates the proceedings with a lushness that matches the natural scenery around it, sound designer Grace Escandón ensures an aural immersion be it the sound of dogs barking or a second-act thunderclap, and costume designer Vicki Conrad has her performers dressed in attire reminiscent of 70s fashion alongside Nicole Bernardini’s colorful props, such as a yellow umbrella and green benches.

Overall, Ellen Geer’s locally inspired reimagining of The Seagull further draws out Chekhov’s themes in a manner that resonates further, cutting deeply into our most pronounced fears even as our mouths curl upward and we chuckle at illustrations that would be anything but amusing if they happened to us. Still, perspective matters and humor is as inextricably woven into the fabric of our being as misery is.

What The Seagull: Malibu insightfully imparts is that our motivations, whether they’re in good faith or misguided, can be pared down to one axiom: the inevitably human need to be respected, liked, and especially loved by those from whom we seek acceptance from. There’s nothing more agonizing than a rejection spelled out by a conclusive unrequitedness, but perhaps that’s where the most meaningful lesson of all is plainly hidden: we should harness our dissatisfaction to become the agencies of our own change and align ourselves with people who better complement us. Those who empower themselves to take action also have the power to preempt or nullify any sense of emptiness that might take hold.

Cover image caption: (L-R) Christopher Glenn Gilstrap and Susan Angelo in Will Geer Theatricum Botanicum’s production of The Seagull: Malibu in Topanga, CA. Photo by Ian Flanders.

For more information and to purchase tickets to Will Geer Theatricum Botanicum’s production of The Seagull: Malibu, visit theatricum.com.