Category Archives: Student Posts

The Audience by Nick Prey

It was so cool to see everything we have spent so much time on finally come alive. I have found the over-all audience reaction to be positive, and thought provoking in and of itself. I’ve talked to people after every run, and although the runs are, of course, uneven in terms of smoothness, I’ve found the overall reaction to be fairly consistent. Everyone I have talked to has enjoyed the aesthetic of the play. The nuanced beauty of the set and Bart’s original score have been particularly well received. What I have found most intriguing is the audience reaction to the doubling. Many of my friends were initially confused, but almost everyone figured it out eventually. I found the audience to be split when it came to the alternation of actors. Some found the doubling to be more confusing then edifying, and others said that it gave them an interesting perspective on the character. Those who did not wholly favor the doubling said that they felt emotionally distanced from the characters. Others, however, said that it is precisely that distancing that was interesting. They said that by having to switch gears every act, they were forced to examine to characters more closely in order to follow the action, and this gave them a heightened appreciation for the characters themselves.

I was also curious to hear what the audience had to say after the talk-backs. From what I understood, even those who found the doubling confusing said that the confusion did not stop them from enjoying the show. It was also great to hear from Raphael, and to really appreciate how perfectly this translation fits in with the artistic directions we have taken.

I was also surprised at how much I have depended on the audience during the actual performances. An audience can always alter the show in the way that they give back (or don’t), but I found myself particularly effected by the audience in this production. When we would start a show with low energy, or when the audience was quieter, I had a much more difficult time getting into the world of Vanya myself. And when the audience laughed and gave audible reactions, I found myself more completely immersed in the show, and in the world of Vanya, than I would have thought possible. I really discovered, at the end of the day, that the lack of walls in our show, physically and metaphorically, make the audience a key participant in the production.

I am very proud of the show we have put together, and we have all come a long way together. Remember those initial workshops with Kali? Seems like forever ago, right? Thank you all. Finita la commedia.

Laugh Through the Silence

The audience’s reaction to the show has been different each and every night. Some have been deathly silent with seemingly no reaction. Others have laughed and awed, even shaking their head in opposition or affirmation when we directly addressed them. Despite the mixed vocal reaction members of the audience that I have spoken to have thoroughly enjoyed the show. They have expressed confusion during our pre-show opening and doubling up. I guess upon witnessing it, the show resembles a circus in the beginning, but morphs into this beautiful cohesive story that the audience understands and appreciates, even if only seeing it multiple times. During our Friday talk-back members of the audience who chose to stay really expressed their thoughts about doubling the roles, linking the choice to enhancing the character’s motivations, relationships, and arcs.

While no one has verbally displayed negative feelings towards the production to me, I imagine there are members of the audience that are bored and confused and still don’t understand the world of Chekhov. I encourage those people to continue to see his plays because there is a piece of you in those characters. Before taking a directing class focused solely on Chekhov’s plays I thought Chekhov was stuffy, boring, and completely irrelevant to my experiences. This is partly due to a production of The Cherry Orchard in London that I thought was particularly mundane and uninteresting. However, after reading, watching, and performing all of his major plays I have found a love for his work that will last forever. Audience members attending any show, but especially matinee performances, be open-minded, receptive, and giving to your experience. Thank you for attending shows because you keep us actors employed (if we got paid for this!) 🙂

“Why are you laughing?” “I don’t know!”

What an incredible couple of weeks these have been. There have been ups and downs, to be sure, but all in all, it has been a glorious experience. Exhausting, yes, but glorious, and totally worth it.

As an actor, I’ve been aware that the presence an audience has and how they react to the action onstage has a significant effect on the outcome of a performance. Yes, it is true that performers shouldn’t let an unresponsive audience effect their performance, and I don’t think that it ever really changed our performance per se. For example, I personally felt (don’t know about everyone else) that in our first matinee, I gave a performance on par with the one I’d given the night before, which had gotten a nice response from the audience (laughter, etc.). However, the audience that Sunday simply didn’t react very much, which was a bit disgruntling. Despite that, I kept doing everything that I usually do, and was content with my own performance, as well as those of everyone else in the cast.

The only times I felt our performances have changed (for the worse) were on opening night and “second opening night” (the second Thursday). This was more a product of having an audience again and remembering all of the things we needed to do after a short hiatus. In other words, we were doing everything that we had to for each scene, but it was more mechanical and disjointed than it should have been, which resulted in a less responsive audience. This was entirely justified, because our (or at least mine) performance was not as engaging as it could have been.

Having an audience helped me cement some aspects of my character and performance, such as the scene between Waffles and Astrov. On the first night, I’ll admit, I tried to play that scene for laughs, and it didn’t work as well as I’d hoped. After that, I let it go: either the audience would find it funny, or they wouldn’t. And, somehow, that scene has gotten progressively more funny as the run has gone on. Now that I’m not actively trying to get a response, but rather actually working with Nick, it feels more natural. Waffles is certainly not trying to get laughs; he’s genuinely pissed off at Astrov and shows it. That is what the audience finds funny, not Rory Eggleston being Waffles and trying to be funny.

I feel like that should have been an obvious conclusion that I could have come to a long time ago, but there it is. Now I know.

-Rory Eggleston

Exposure

Just as I entered the “black box”, one of the actresses walked pass firmly saying, “This is excruciating!” Caught off guard, I was pushed by the turbulence of other spectator behind me coming in to my seat. A dozen of people in smoky vintage cloth walked around the stage, some mumbling sentences, which only few words could be discerned in the action and others threw random notes with their instruments into the air. The whole situation felt strange and intimidating. Gradually, all actors on stage turned into character, and then characters turned into extravagantly posing doubles. The dynamism on stage made my curious sight jump from one place to another and almost required me the effort to keep track of what was going on. As if they were playing a game with me, as if I was chasing the all dressed rabbit in Alice and Wonderland, the characters on stage lured me into their play: suddenly, it started.

The role changes and the “off stage” actors’ presence on stage weren’t obvious at first. Once I understood, I felt the interpretation of a single character by two different actors and for most of the time being both present on stage did not loose the continuity of the story. Instead, it brought a wider spectrum to each of their personalities. However an unidentified heaviness carried the play all along. Heaviness and nudity. The front of the set is left opened and the structure supporting the house can be seem, blurring the line between the theater space and the world of play; The absence of wall between the rooms in the house takes away all privacy in the house; the costume change and act transitions happen openly, once again pulling the audience back to reality and reminding me everything happening is only fiction; The actors address the audience and the “passive” actors on stage during their monologues, breaking the boundaries of the play; the exposure of the characters’ emotions made what was depressing to the extent where it felt cruel. Through the sarcastic lines and in their conscience pain, the characters were mocking themselves. Looking past the chosen forms of interpretation, the strongest feeling of nudity, violation and vulnerability comes from the self-identification to the characters on stage and to their pain. Relating my personal life experience to Vanya’s and Sonya’s impossible love, Yelena’s boredom and the professor’s frustration of accomplishment, every time during the play I laughed was taint bitter, every time I felt bad for one of them on stage it seemed ironic.

Aurelia Fava

Shopping Spree

In the words of the eternal wizard of words Kanye West, “I am a God”. I have been informed that all blog posts should have our names at the start to inform the reader of who we are. Well, I am Sam and if any of you ask whether or not I eat Green Eggs and Ham I will get mad because I don’t like eggs and I try to keep kosher. Speaking of Kosher, I am a god because I helped make my stairs (the ones leading to my room in the show). Now I originally thought that after completing this task I would feel like I had completed this part of me that would connect me to my character, but it actually did nothing of the sort. This experience just gave me a large appreciation for the amount of work that goes into the piece of art that comprises the world of Vanya. Everything from the tiny little fixtures that add a bit of pizzazz, to the behemoth of stairs that I barely helped complete. After this experience I started to think of the shoes I was filling. It made me aware of what it was like for the Zeuses and the Buddahs and the Dave Berberians that paved the way for me to be where I am today. So when I am at the top of my room screaming down at the peons below me, I will now that I can only do so because of all the people that poured their blood, sweat, and (although Dave would never admit it) tears into this set and this creative collaborative process.

Reddy’s post that he forgot to do over the weekend

During rehearsal, one of my main responsibilities is helping to set up and track props. In addition to maintaining the integrity of the script, I think the purpose of the props/costumes is to add a dimension to or emphasize a trait of the character that operates them. For example, when the Professor rings the bell to get the attention of the other house members, the strident discord of the sound underscores the melodramatic nature of the man himself. I think the piano represents Yelena’s freedom and her passion. Just as she is prohibited from playing the piano by the Professor, she is prevented from escaping and flying away by her obligation to the man. Vanya’s bathrobe depicts his transition from an intelligent, respectable man to a more languid man with his emotions in disarray. I am excited to see the final props and how they fit into what we have done already.

Because I have been on book for the last few rehearsals, I think I’ve read Vanya at least five times over, but I’ve discovered new interpretations, noticed lines that I had ignored, and made deeper connections with the plot each time around. For example, when Yelena says something along the lines of “Dont worry, I’ll be old too in five or six years blah,” to the Professor, I merely thought she was attempting to sympathize with the Professor’s old age and ultimately, get the Professor to stop whining. It wasn’t until the third or fourth time we had gone through it until Jeff pointed out and I realized that it was also an affirmation that she would still be with the Professor five years down the line. Another example occurs when the Professor mentions “his unmarried daughter” when he makes the speech about selling the estate. It took a couple of read-throughs until I realized how much this contributed to Sonya’s sorrow, as she is again reminded of her desolation, and knows she will never be with her hunky loverboy Astrov. This has made me question if I’ve ever truly understood any book that I’ve read only one time around.

I also have a new found appreciation for the work that Hillary and the rest of the cast do. The sheer amount of time and effort a stage manager puts into organizing the show is astounding. Actors also have to work on many things simultaneously – memorizing lines, combining that with blocking, body language, intonation, and connecting it to other cast members – all in a fluid process. I’ve learned a lot solely from sitting back and observing, and from helping out whenever I am needed.

Many authors/playwrights/poets breathe an air of mysticism into their writing, in an attempt to take their audience on magical and extraordinary journeys. Uncle Vanya appeals to me because it confronts the real, homely, and everyday ups and downs of life. Whether it a lost love, a sense of listlessness, regret for the past, or sheer boredom with life, Chekhov conveys problems that normal people can encounter in their regular life. Along the way, the audience is still swept up on a journey, not one of magical and fantastical proportions, but rather one of personal and intimate experience. At some point while watching Vanya, I think an audience member will have a moment of consciousness when they stop to think “This reminds me of…” or “I remember when…” and this ability to connect to the performance in a distinctive, direct way will elevate their experience to a new level.

Although I admit I sometimes get bored during rehearsal, when I witness the play unfold, I find myself caught up in these sort of moments, and I feel engaged and intrinsically tied to Uncle Vanya and the entire cast.

Yours,
Reddy

Mood

When you are nameless and formless, how do you move through the space? When you are speechless and silent, how can you make your presence known?

The ghost list illuminates the empty space. The observer watches, and turns out the light.

At first it’s all chaos and cacophony, bodies moving through a space vibrated by sounds of pleasure and pain, joy and sorrow, hope and envy and wishes and regret. And you move through this space, feeling nothing, feeling everything. Sometimes you reach out and make contact. You check in, though this is more a courtesy than a necessity. We all know what we’re doing. Going through perfected motions. Soon, there becomes nothing left for you to say. And so you watch. And you walk. You touch, absorbing the essence into your body, taking in every object, connecting with all flesh. Embodiment of mood. A silent observer. Attentive and alert. Audience, presence onstage.

The transition is an ordered chaos, and you watch and walk.

It changes, and you can feel yourself changing with it. Speechless, nameless and formless you take in your surroundings, you become the atmosphere. Silent as you are, the sorrow is overwhelming; it becomes too much to bear. Pouring out onto the stage, filling the space with its weight, the heaviness sinking into you. You find yourself moved to release, rising with the intonations bursting forth. And the sorrow comes, flowing in speechless sound, meaningful yet meaningless. And the sound takes a form, extending out, twisting and writhing in the space, in the small space, deep in the shadows. You can hear it. If you look closely enough, you can see it. It underscores the pain. It ceases, without notice. At the pauses, the space rings with silence.

The transition is an ordered chaos, and you watch and walk.

You know better than to be deceived by laughter and smiles. Embodiment of mood, you know what is yet to come. You can feel it shifting in the atmosphere, shifting in your formlessness, giving rise to a new shape. This is sorrow, and yet it is not the same. This is guilt and confusion and shame. This rises deep within you, vibrating upwards until it is breathed out, a doleful sigh.

But ceaseless sorrow would cause the form to break, and so you retreat into the darkness.

In the space, the chaos runs wild.

The transition reclaims the order, and you return, and watch, and walk.

In the background, as always, watching. The atmosphere has changed, embodiment of mood expectant, waiting. Three simple rings of an ominous bell, each taking something away, removal of that which will never return. Death. A small one occurs with each turn.

You hear the reflection of that outpouring of emotion, the sorrow that caused you to flow and move. It fills the space, underscoring the sorrow, rising and falling and fading away.

Forms cease, and silence reigns.

The ghost list illuminates the empty space. The observer watches, and turns out the light.

– Jaya Z.

Letters to Vera Petrovna

I remember the sun was just right that day. The wide pink ribbon hanging off my tiny hat refused to stay out of my eyes. I squint to see the fluffy clouds dotted across the sky. My hand feels so small clutching yours as you lead us through the garden. Surreal. My memories of you belong to a different world where everything is brighter. Even the estate looks different somehow-welcoming. In the garden not a single blade of grass is out of place. Of course not. The garden’s upkeep was nothing less than perfect under your care. Not a tree untrimmed or a weed in sight. Beside the path something catches your eye. The rose bushes glistening with dew. You lean in to inhale the pink and red blossoms.

“What do you say we gather a few roses for Nanny?” you whispered. I clap my hands in agreement. After we delivered the roses to Nanny, Papa joined us for a walk through the forest.

My memories of you are few but I remember how different life was then. Breakfast at 8, lunch before 1, dinner at a reasonable hour. Tea, meals, housework and the affairs of everyday life ran like a clockwork fairytale. Uncle Vanya was young then and still hopeful. Papa even smiled- no sign of rheumatism or gout. Everyone was happy. Life on the estate seems like an entirely different world now. The farmwork is barely turning a profit and Papa eats and sleeps whenever he pleases. If you were here they’d all be ashamed of themselves. Nanny tells me how your love and strength were the foundation of the entire estate.

Papa’s new wife has come to stay with us. Everyone says how beautiful she is but she’s not beautiful like you. She does nothing all day. Besides her talents for the piano I’d say her spirit is quite unremarkable.

—————————-

I have a confession to make. I despise uncle vanya. Today he launched into another one of his rants about how old he is, how he hates the professor and blah blah blah. He sulks around the estate all day sniveling in that ridiculous bathrobe. Meanwhile I’m left to cut the hay, keep the accounts, sell the crops, do the housework and care for the estate by myself. I’m beyond exhausted. Uncle Vanya’s also drinking more and more frequently. It’s despicable. Soon he’ll be no better than the drunks in the taverns. What’s happened to him? Perhaps his behavior is not entirely unwarranted. Vanya’s clearly terribly depressed and I’m guessing the way Yelena treats him doesn’t help either. Still, the questions he struggles with, isn’t that something we all have to deal with at one point or another? The realization that our youth is over. The skepticism that our life and work has had any real purpose. The fundamental question of the meaning of our lives. . Sometimes I wonder if the reason I keep myself so busy with work is to avoid thinking about these things myself.

Today Uncle Vanya said something funny. He said I looked just like my mother. He must be hallucinating. Everyone knows how beautiful you were and that I was unfortunate enough to get Papa’s looks. It seemed like Uncle Vanya wanted to say something more though. He kept stuttering “if only she knew” but when I pressed him about it he wouldn’t explain. I bet I can finish his thoughts: ‘If only you knew how embarrassing the estate had become and how unhappy we all are’. If only you were still here to care for us…

Today I found out even Yelena is unhappy- just as I suspected. Stepmother is a strange word to me. You would have despised her and her laziness but I must admit I’m terribly fond of Yelena. I think she feels trapped by father and this estate. I sympathize with her. She said that the way she loved father at the time wasn’t “real love”. I can’t help wonder if that’s how I feel about the doctor. Still, even if it’s not “real love” the thought of him completely consumes me. Telling Yelena how I felt was like being able to breathe again. I really think that in a few months from now we’re going to be best friends. I think you’d be happy that I found a best friend.

—————————

Papa almost tried to sell your estate. It sounds like a nightmare when I say it now. I refuse to let it happen while I’m still alive. When I close my eyes I still see Vanya’s eyes looking back at me as I pry the morphine out of his hands. I think I understand him now. Of course he’s tired but its more than that. My new best friend is leaving forever because of Vanya’s silliness and I don’t blame her for it. I’ll miss Yelena but I really hope she finds happiness in Kharkov. As soon as Yelena walked out the door the spell was broken. Vanya and I are getting back to work. You would laugh if you saw how utterly behind we are on the accounts.

The doctor left too. It’s better this way I suppose. Still, I’ll miss being enchanted by his visits. I wonder if he knows that he is the most fascinating man I ever met and that I could never ever forget him- even if I tried.

For some reason I feel it’s my fault that everything has come to shambles. I wanted everything in your estate to stay perfect. How did you do it? Tiredness has overwhelmed my entire body but I continue to fight it. I feel so completely exhausted but that’s how I know God will have mercy. As I sit down to finish the accounts I think of you and find my strength. The thought of seeing you again and finally finding God’s rest in the end gives me comfort.

Your faithful daughter,

Sonya

(Cynthia)

moments: the convergence of the head and the heart

If I’m going to be honest, I am really struggling to write this post.

It says in the prompt that my post should reflect on my experience in rehearsals and my thoughts on the production approach. However, as hard as I try to suss out how I feel and what I think, I keep coming up blank.

I think part of why I am having a difficult time is that my role is rooted in mechanics. I take down blocking and call cues. I organize, keep track of time, and make lists. I make sure that everybody gets the information they need and that what needs to be done is done and on time. I guess what I’m saying is that I haven’t really given myself an opportunity to think about the process outside of what needs to be done to make it happen. When I’m in rehearsals, I am focused on making sure that people, props, and lines are where they’re supposed to be. In production meetings, I concentrate on making sure that everybody gets all the information they need and that all questions are answered (or at least have been asked). I am also acutely aware that while I am involved in making the play what it is, I am not a creative voice in the room. I think the overarching concept of the show is provocative and engaging, the set and the props are beautiful, and although I have yet to see the lights or costumes, I have no doubt that they are amazing as well. However, my job is to try and make the execution of the creative as organized, smooth, and simple as possible.

All of this is not to say that I am not emotionally involved or invested. I’m trying to learn and expose myself to as much as I possibly can. I love coming to rehearsal everyday to experience and be part of the creation and evolution of Uncle Vanya. It’s just that throughout most of this process, I’ve lived mostly in my head and, as a result, have not given myself enough time to really process how I feel.

However, there are moments. Moments when I look up from my script and just watch the play unfold. I watch my peers dig deep, ask questions, and explore their character’s motivations and desires. I watch them challenge themselves, grow, and be vulnerable. I am moved watching them put themselves out there and work to navigate what it means to be human. It is in these moments that I get caught up in the emotion and spirit of it all and lose my place in the script.

It is in these moments when I understand why I do this. It is in these moments when I am reminded why I truly love the theatre.

I, Astrov

In this response I’ve tried to create a sort of narrative stream of consciousness, paralleling the action of the play and broken up (roughly) based on my interpretation of the beat- or tactic-changes. Despite the shifts, I’ve tried to maintain a sense of continuous flow between the moments.

Where could she be? I can’t wait around here all day. Why did she and that dick even drag everyone out on a walk, on a day like this?

Am I too old for her, Nanny? Be honest with me. I don’t even know who I’ve become!

If this were ten years ago – even one or two years ago – I’d be fine, but I can’t change the world anymore. It’s already a shithole… and I’m no saint. But I will try; I’ll try for you and for what beauty remains in the world.

Beauty! She must be returning soon. Maybe Vanya knows what the hell is going on here.

There she is. God, what is this feeling? I feel so…silly.

And what’s up with Ivan? Hey man, snap out of it. You’re ridiculous – you know that? – and I love you for it.

But I’m worried about you. I don’t know much about this Yelena, but it doesn’t sound good from the looks of things. What’s the big deal?

Well, well, let me see what she has to offer. We’ll just get this situation under control, and be on our way…

Yes. No. Right, the tea…dinner… You want to talk about some political theory, art, maybe?

Can you believe these two? Like children or…magpies, fighting over something shiny. And Nanny, with her chicks again. Ah-ha! There’s a smile.

What? Who? Um…yes. I’ll be right there. Where…? Ah, the bag, the bag.

I was so close! This is horrible. One last chance to impress.

Is she being coy? Please, you really don’t think these forests are beautiful? Allow me…Allow her to educate you.

EXCUSE ME, WHO ASKED YOU, IVAAAN? Do you really want to get into this now? Why do you even care, you little shit? How do you put up with him?

Sorry. I need to go. Maybe we’ll finish this discussion next time, ok?

We need music in here! It’s a beautiful autumn evening! Something…magical…is in the air…There’s a…storm? You know that dame, who comes around here? I’d hit that. Nice. Choice. Bro. hey. What’s up, Vanya? Are you LOVESICK?

Sorry. I don’t mean to OFFEND you. I just think. That life. Is pretty near where it should be right now. I’m on top of the world. SO WHERE IS THE MUSIC?? Beautiful moments need MUSIC! You know what else we need? We Need DRANK.

Hello there, miss. Top of the evening to you. Beg your pardon while I take a trip to tidy up a bit… Expertly maneuvered, Astrov.

You don’t have to be a jerk, little miss. I’m not going to be a jerk; I’m just going to walk away. And I don’t want to deal with any of the other jerks who live around here, either, ok?

I don’t understand how anyone survives around here. You’re all crazy. And I don’t even know what to think your step-mother! What’s wrong with her? She’s fucking beautiful!

Look, don’t listen to me. The world can be great, it just isn’t for me. I work my ass off for the people and the trees, and what have I got to show for it? I can’t even love anyone anymore!

I mean, you’re good to me. I appreciate that. But… I can only fall for beauty… And don’t be fooled. I’d certainly fuck that up.

Save your love for someone who’s flourishing, vigorous: That’s what I’d tell your friend. I’m dead now. I’m dried up, hollow. What are you..? I…need to go. Thanks, and all.

III

She wants to see my maps! This is my chance. We’ve hardly shared two words since she’s been in the district.

Does she care about the taxonomy of the flora and fauna. No… just, stick to the basics. Has she noticed me coming around? She must have, but maybe she avoids Ivan’s room.

Her eyes are pretty distracting. How many birds were there again? This must sound ridiculous. Ah, but she’s laughing! At me or with me? Dammit where’s the other monastery?? Something about cattle…

Focus, Astrov. Jesus there’s nothing in this one. Get it over with.

Ugh the third map. It’s horrible, isn’t it? To think, we had these beautiful things in our grasp, and we just let them…rot away. We’re better than this, aren’t we? Humans, us?

God she doesn’t care one bit. It’s over. She’s right, this is all silly.

Oh? Is she flirting with me? Powerful language. Hmm…Sonya. Do I…want to be Sonya’s… father, you ask? Do I want to be Sonya’s… something else. No. Oh no. No not that.

Is this what you wanted to tell me? I should maybe lea– Why would you do this? Are you messing with me?

Wait you– you are. You’re toying with me. Well, well, well. I can play this game, too.

You’re really into the game, aren’t you? Ok, come on, I know what you’re feeling. I saw it in your eyes. I felt it too. Just give in to it! I’ll give in. Here.

What’s stopping you? Look at you. Look at us!

Electricity. Just listen to it.

We could have this forever.

Oh shit. Where’d he come from? WHY IS HE HERE? This is bad. It’s ruined. It’s all ruined. Don’t make it worse.

How could he even try to…? I don’t believe it. I have to stop this, and I don’t even have time.

Where is that little smelly rat? Vanya, I know you’re here!

Ok, stop being a child. This is very serious! I’ve got bigger things to worry about, you little shit. Why do you insist on making all of our lives more difficult?

Can you even hear yourself? Think about someone else for a change, you creep. Oh, you don’t even want to get me started on Yelena. But this isn’t about that, so just shut up for a minute!

You know, there’s nothing wrong with you. Probably. Life’s a bitch –everyone feels this way– And you have to take it.

And you definitely can’t just hide from it, or drown it, or whatever you think you’re doing. You have to face it. You have to ACCEPT that we have screwed up beyond all repair. WE have, you and I both.

Maybe if we’re being completely honest, we’re not entirely to blame. Bad luck. Bad cards. “Better luck next time, sucker!” as we say…

Okay, now, look: I might have a chance left with Yelena; I need to get out of here. I mean, go ahead and kill yourself if you want! But don’t drag me down with you.

Sonya! Please please pleeeease help! I don’t know what else to do. He’ll listen to you.

She’s so loving, so good. And he’s fine. I understand, Vanya. I feel you.

Well…I better get ready to go. I don’t even know what I would say.

There she is. Look at Vanya, being led away like a steer. No, I will not be that. I will not have that. This is my life I’m fighting for.

What is she thinking? What is she feeling? Why is she still here? Is she trembling?

She is. She’s scared. Scared of leaving? Yes! Why won’t you stay? Just stay? What could I possibly do to make you understand that it’s right for you to stay? Do I need to tell jokes? Do tricks?

She’s smiling. I’m close. This Is It.

Excuse me? Handshake. No no no. What’s wrong with you???

You know what, fine. You can go if you want to. I don’t need you. Maybe you had me…for a little while… but I’m stronger than this. And I’m stronger than you. Because I’m not going around causing trouble, making people fall in love with me. Go if you want to; you haven’t beaten me.

Ok now she’s close. Why did she get so close. It’s not…uncomfortable. It’s just a little bit too…exciting. And why did she take my pencil? Why do I care?? Relax, Astrov. She hasn’t beaten you yet. You take your prize, and then you go.

Oh my god. I can’t leave this. Where does my life go from here?

Did she feel it too? No? Why isn’t she leaving? She felt it too.

People are coming, people are coming. I can’t leave her, I’ll die. What if it happened for us? It’s too good. I couldn’t maintain it. But I need it. They’re here…

I’ll never be the same.

I didn’t deserve it. I couldn’t take it. Why didn’t you try harder, Vanya??

They’re gone. I have to move on. At least I still have my Nanny. She’ll comfort me.

How will I ever leave this behind? No, I must. I should get out of here. Get the formalities out of the way and here I go.

No, they deserve more. All the love they gave me, where would I be without my two loves?

Vanya… what could I ever say to him? I hope he can forgive me. Things could be worse, I guess. We’re probably pretty lucky here, when you think about it.

Ok, let’s numb the pain and get this operation over with. One more look at things: This is the end and this is the beginning. I can’t say goodbye any more, I have to leave, Nanny. I have to just do it. I’ll miss-.

–Mike