Masha, Masha, Masha.
It is always about Masha, the leggy, glamorous, successful sister. She has friends, money, fame and complete power over everyone else in Christopher Durang's deliciously arch play, "Vanya and Sonia and Masha and Spike."
At the Guthrie Theater on Friday night, Candy Buckley marched her Masha onstage, broke off pieces of scenery and started to feast. A sinewy, faded beauty with stringy arms and legs like stilts, this smart, self-aware cat speaks in a whiskey-drenched voice and grinds her word endings like she's chewing gristle off a steak.
If you are not up for this exaggerated style, Buckley's performance might feel like murder. I urge you to just go along with it. She's so mean, so easy and comfortable as she puts down her sister, Sonia, and her brother, Vanya. She's phony to the bone and she knows it.
But enough about Masha. Durang's play satisfies every Chekhov sweet tooth you might have. It is about the fear of change, the gap between generations, the comfort of sloth and the pomposity of artificial wealth. And beneath it all, that driving desire among its characters to live — to really live. For extra fun, he nods to the Greeks, with Cassandra (a clattering, confident Isabell Monk O'Connor) belching out prophecies that may or may not come true.
Dramatically, Durang also checks every box on his Chekhov list: Does Vanya throw a tirade? Is the ownership of the property at stake? Does Masha constantly have her eye on Moscow (Hollywood)? Is Masha bad in romance? Is Sonia a lump on a log? Yes, yes, yes, yes and yes. It's all here, timeless and still urgent, twisted with Durang's perfect cheek.
Fans of director Joel Sass will note none of the cool, cinematic stage tricks he does so well. Good for that, because this play reminds us how well Sass investigates language, character, intent, human observation — the stuff Chekhov demands. He builds this play with an overall eye for authenticity juxtaposed with a commitment to the absurd.
Masha's parents were professors, active in community theater, and they named the children for Chekhov characters. Sonia (a stunted and frustrated bag of humanity in Suzanne Warmanen's hands) and Vanya (Charles Janasz) have stayed home all their lives, in this woodsy cottage (set by Todd Rosenthal) to care for their ailing parents. In the surroundings, unseen by us but most alive in Sonia and Vanya's world, are blue herons, a pond, wild turkeys and a stand of cherry trees that may or may not be an orchard.
