Poor Sonya. When last we met, she looked such an unhappy young thing, prattling on so unconvincingly to her Uncle, oh, what was his name? -- Vanya! Yes! -- about how life would get better once they got down to work.
And poor Andrey. You remember him, don't you? The pathetic one with the two -- no, the Three Sisters, who married that pushy Natasha and seemed destined to a life of disappointment?
Sonya and Andrey (Nancy Robinette and Edward Gero) tell tales of their Chekhovian pasts in the Studio Theatre's "Afterplay."
(Carol Pratt -- Studio Theatre)
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Well, you'll never guess. They got together. Wouldn't Chekhov have been amused? No, not in repertory, in a little entertainment all their own! A Chekhovian fantasy by Brian Friel called "Afterplay." Set in a charming little Moscow cafe, the piece offers Friel's trifling notion that Sonya of "Uncle Vanya" and Andrey of "Three Sisters" lived on after the curtains came down. Isn't it sweet, they're finally the center of attention?
The play, more of a protracted sketch really, is making its American debut at Studio Theatre. The atmospherics are quite lovely -- that cafe set! -- and the actors, the accomplished Nancy Robinette and Edward Gero, embody the downtrodden pair as artfully as you might have wished.
As for Friel's handiwork, well, what can one say? Brush up your Chekhov! "Afterplay" is something of an indulgence, a well-written exercise in advanced-placement theater. Anyone who has not taken the prerequisites -- i.e., sat down in the past few years to the Chekhov works from which it gets its inspiration -- may feel cheated. Why, you'll wonder, is the person next to you laughing at the mention of "Bobik"? If you're not on intimate terms with "Three Sisters" (and it would be a splendid thing if you were!) how would you know that the "Bobik" Andrey talks about, the son he has come to visit in jail, is the little boy in "Three Sisters" who is teased for being so naughty?
A lot of "Afterplay," the final entry in Studio's survey of modern and classic plays written or inspired by Russian dramatists, is like that: an extended inside joke. It's told quite pleasingly in Joy Zinoman's jewel-box production. But in the space of a little more than an hour, it sort of runs out of air. It might have resonated more deeply if there were more than a thematic link to the rest of Studio's season -- if, perhaps, "Uncle Vanya" or "Three Sisters" had been the entree and "Afterplay" the dessert.
It is possible to enjoy the minimally eventful "Afterplay" as a master class in acting technique. In Debra Booth's exquisite 1920s cafe, a solarium with lots of authentic detail down to the samovar on the counter and vodka bottles with Cyrillic labels, Robinette's middle-aged Sonya is poring over plans to add a forest to her farm -- those Chekhov types, always with the trees! She's joined by Gero's Andrey, who, toting a beaten-up violin case and sporting a ratty cloth overcoat, looks as if he's gone seriously to seed.
Sonya and Andrey are soon holding forth on the fates of other characters, as well as on their own lonely lives. Are we surprised to discover that things have not turned out so well? Robinette and Gero play Sonya and Andrey as deflated kindred spirits, weary and fond of drink and telling little lies. There are differences: You get the ever so faint whiff of condescension from Robinette, traces of desperation in Gero.
Friel, the Irish playwright, is an experienced translator of Chekhov's plays, and here, writing again in Chekhov's voice, he's created a piece for Chekhov fans. The information Sonya and Andrey trade about the other characters -- we learn that Natasha has divorced Andrey and Vanya has died of a broken heart; Sonya's love, Astrov, is off establishing bee colonies, and Andrey's sister Masha has shot herself -- is gossip realistically spun from the events of the plays. Ultimately, though, it's all a parlor game.
The drably proper attire that costume designer Devon Painter devises for the actors reinforces something of the faded in Sonya and Andrey, and Michael Giannitti's lighting bathes the set in the soft glow of regret. It's pleasant enough to know that these sad souls with the hard lives are still soldiering on. But that's about all it is.
Afterplay, by Brian Friel. Directed by Joy Zinoman. Set, Debra Booth; lighting, Michael Giannitti; costumes, Devon Painter; sound, Gil Thompson. Approximately 65 minutes. Through April 17 at Studio Theatre, 1501 14th St. NW. Call 202-332-3300 or visit www.studiotheatre.org.
