Vanya

The Gate's artistic directors, Natalie Abrahami and Carrie Cracknell, have given us a lot of fun by programming work that plays fast and loose with big name European rep. This time, Abrahami directs Sam Holcroft's
de-historicised précis of Chekhov's 'Uncle Vanya' in a witty and thought-provoking production which is thoroughly ingenious, even though it's not as funny as Lucy Kirkwood's update of Ibsen's 'Hedda Gabler', or as dazzlingly playful as Chris Goode's plangent riff on Chekhov, '... Sisters'.

Holcroft has lopped Chekhov's melancholy meditation on unrequited love down to its four principal characters. Hardworking young Sonya, her uncle Vanya, her beautiful stepmother Yelena and the local progressive doctor Astrov form a sort of love square inside designer Tom Scutt's nifty wooden cube of a set, which is a bit like a bathing house might be if four arty types tried to build it eight different ways from an Ikea flatplan. The actors rejig the set as they go - a neatly directed bit of business, which helps frame them individually when they monologue about their worn-out dreams. Holcroft's downsizing of Chekhov's ensemble also brings them into their own spotlight. She gets a lot of comedy out of the gauche, girlish Sonya (Fiona Button) and her clumsy attempts to seduce the geekish beefcake Astrov (Simon Wilson). But subtlety is lost along with length. This is a touching emotional drama, rebuilt for four. But it's a shame that the whole concept isn't as original as the design.