Review: THE SEAGULL, Barbican Theatre
Thomas Ostermeier’s bold, new revival of The Seagull, co-adapted by Duncan Macmillan and Ostermeier, makes Chekhov’s timeless modern classic even more relevant to contemporary audiences. Its playful, sharp delivery, and unconventional staging, sends the seagull on a rebellious soar at the Barbican, with a cheeky little wink at unexpected places.
Overall, Ostermeier’s dry humour and sharp comic timing keeps the tone light even among the weightier themes. Ostermeier plays with the concept of blurring the lines between performance and reality throughout, leaving the audience wondering: What is real? What is performative? This ambiguity is intriguing, adding a layer of self-awareness to the staging.
What jumps out of the production is the frequently broken fourth wall - a daring move for a Chekhov who, alongside Stanislavski, cemented the concept of the fourth wall in modern day theatre. This is certainly a very rebellious move, just like the play itself in so many ways!
The use of onstage microphones adds an interesting layer. At times, this device is highly effective, like when the actors consciously engage with the audience in their own cheeky little ways, inviting us in on their inside jokes. Sometimes, the device is used during an expressive, almost Shakespearean-like moment, when characters spell out their deepest fear, secret or heightened emotional connections, adding a performative element to the text. However, it makes the theatrical language of the microphone inconsistent. It is hard for the audience to grasp what the device is supposed to be for. Or if that is the intention, to make it blurry, then maybe it’s worth pushing it even further.
The set design by Magda Willi is dynamic and outside of the box. As rebellious as all the other elements of the play, her design challenges the conventional staging choices - like how actors enter and exit the space - make for visually intriguing moments, highlighting each character’s appearance and, literally, “disappearance” on stage. Marg Horwell’s costume design is exciting. She captures each character's essence from the original Chekhov, yet seamlessly transforms them into something a modern day 20-year-old would wear on TikTok. Bruno Poet’s lighting is appealing, with a panoramic panel creating a modern aesthetic that highlights the production’s blurred line between reality and playhouse.
Recently, there has been a visible rise of celebrity cast productions, driving ticket sales as a wow factor. Sometimes, these productions feel gimmicky, especially when you realise some actors are better left on your screens (theatre is just a different set of skills!), but this cast is not one of them. The acting ensemble is strong, with particularly outstanding female performances. It feels like this adaptation devotes more attention to the female characters, allowing them to take centre stage in a way that feels fresh and empowered.
Cate Blanchett is magnetic as Irina Arkadina. Returning to the stage once again, her presence is as strong and electric as ever, her delivery sharp and playful, and her emotional connection deeply engaging. She is eye drawing, not because of her fame, but her commanding stage presence. The production also uses her fame as a thoughtful device, rather than pretending; they made it an inside joke, placing her in a dynamic that mirrors her fame as Arkadina and as herself, further blurring the boundaries between reality and the play.
Priyanga Burford as Paulina Shamrayev, though not onstage as frequently, has a memorable and engaging presence. Her ability to land humour and emotional beats gives her a strong presence. Simon Medvedenko, also partially a narrator in this adaptation, performed by Zachary Hart, has a beautiful voice, adding a unique element to the production, making his performance feel almost like a live concert at times. Masha Shamrayev portrayed by Tanya Reynolds is a standout. Her playful, unique take on Masha shines new light on the traditionally repressed portrayal of this troubled character, injecting the character with a fresh vitality. Even in her black outfit, her presence radiates colour. Kodi Smit-McPhee’s portrayal of Konstantin captures the intense self-rumination of the character, but his journey feels a little stagnant from scene to scene. Whether due to the adaptation or performance choices, there is little sense of character journey, making it difficult to fully connect with his struggles. A stronger character arc could give his story greater impact. Jason Watkins’ Peter Sorin is probably one of the most watchable actors on stage in this production. His comic timing is impeccable, making every moment with him on stage a delight. A complete joy!
Overall, the ensemble is very strong, and has a delightful chemistry all around, bringing an organic spontaneity to the stage.
A very absurd contradiction in this production, whether intentional or not, is the tension between the play’s themes and its audience. Chekhov’s works have always explored class divides and economic struggles, yet this production finds itself staged in a venue where ticket prices are exorbitantly high — around £260- £280 for a stalls seat, making it inaccessible to many. Konstantin even comments on “overpriced tickets” in the first scene. It is certainly a moment that highlights the irony of staging a play critiquing class disparity in a theatre full of affluent theatregoers. However, perhaps this is exactly who needs to hear it—the very people benefiting from the systems the play critiques. At the same time, it remains deeply ironic that those who can’t afford to be there, the ones most affected by these divides, are excluded from the conversation.
A moment that feels particularly out of place is when the house lights go up in the middle of a speech, creating a seemingly confrontational moment. However, the purpose behind this choice is unclear. If the intent is to challenge the audience - perhaps addressing class privilege or the impact of art on the world - it doesn’t quite land with enough force. The moment is isolated and doesn’t seem to be part of a larger established language within the play. If it is meant to make the audience question their own complicity, it needs more build-up to be truly impactful. Did the audience feel confronted? Or was it just an aesthetic choice?
This Seagull is undeniably fresh and rebellious. The themes of fear of irrelevance, class separation, blending with questions of reality and performativity, blurring the lines between art and life feel particularly resonant today. While some directorial choices feel slightly muddled or inconsistent, the production is a thought-provoking and joyful revival of Chekhov for modern audiences. It also raises larger questions about accessibility and class within theatre itself—whether intentionally or not, it forces us to consider: who gets to engage with these stories, and who is left out of the conversation?
As the first thing the actor says tonight, this is not what you expected for a Chekhov. Yes, it is so much more!
**** Four stars
Reviewed by: Diana Feng
The Seagull plays at London’s Barbican Theatre until 5 April, with further info here.
