Bridging the gap between absurdity and tragedy is no simple task, but who better to lead the charge than a pair of modern sitcom alums?

Uncle Vanya is once again wallowing in despair on a Broadway stage, this time at Lincoln Center and led by comedy veteran Steve Carell — an actor uniquely suited to the role of a vaguely likable but mostly pathetic man who just barely fits the bill as our story’s hero.

A rumination on mundanity and aimlessness, Uncle Vanya follows a set of characters ailed by a mixture of age, circumstance, and unrequited love. They’re haunted by could-have-beens, to varying degrees of awareness. They’re also miserable and somewhat selfish, scapegoating their unhappiness on those around them with little thought given to the destructive cycles of their own making.... But who are we to judge a plight so distinctly human?

Marc J. Franklin

As expected, there’s a painfully obvious prescience to the Anton Chekhov-penned play, even 125 years after it was first staged. In fact, the tragicomedy grappling with wasted lives and the inevitable decline of the natural world is pushed to further relatability thanks to a lean and contemporary translation from Heidi Schreck — though this reach for accessibility comes at the expense of some of the play’s deeper nuances.

Our story begins after Alexander (Alfred Molina), a pompous professor whose stifling presence effortlessly oozes self-pity, retires to his daughter’s country estate — inherited from his first marriage to Vanya’s deceased sister. He arrives with his second wife Elena (Anika Noni Rose), but rather than melting away into countryside peace, their arrival unearths buried resentment, inflames passion, and eventually incites rage.

Carell is our titular hero, the bitter Vanya who has devoted himself to the family farm along with his niece, Sonia (Alison Pill). In a scene-stealing performance, William Jackson Harper stars as Astrov, an adrift local doctor and environmentalist on the verge of becoming a full-blown alcoholic. Rounding out the stacked cast are Jayne Houdyshell, who makes great use of her limited stage time as Vanya’s mother; Mia Katogbak as a warm nanny named Marina; and Jonathan Hadary as Waffles, the wisdom-dropping, guitar-strumming family friend.

Marc J. Franklin

This update on Vanya doesn’t alter the story in any revolutionary terms but noticably streamlines the despair: by some mixture of performance and translation, many of the characters have been flattened into their simplest, most accessible forms. Sonia becomes a lovestruck teenager, and Vanya a bitter jester. Carell’s take on the character lacks Vanya's defining inner turmoil until it explodes out of him. There’s certainly nuance to his malaise — a flippant bitterness buried under humor, occasionally alchemized into frustration — but lacking teeth until the script calls upon him to detonate.

When his pivotal moment comes, Carell rises to the occasion stiffly, but effectively. The play's famous climactic scene sees a gun fired (twice) following a rage-wrought emotional breakdown. Carell is impossible to look away from in that moment — and in many others. He boasts such a distinct charisma that even when we yearn to peel back a layer of the character that appears missing, his presence demands the audience’s attention.

Balancing the pathos and comedy — something that seems well suited to the entire cast — is ultimately best accomplished by Harper, drowning in torment as Astrov, even when he appears to have discovered relief. His despair is frenetic, ever-palpable thanks to Harper’s naturalistic performance. He crafts an Astrov who actively engages his unhappiness: courting it then batting it away.

Marc J. Franklin

Other performances soar in their subtler moments: Rose’s Elena staring off with glassy eyes as she fails an attempt to take interest in Astrov; or Pill as Sonia, splitting her face with a smile over misunderstood affections. A particular highlight is the Act 1 musical interlude, which sees the entire cast struggling to bury their unhappiness as time passes on and on, to the tune of a nameless neighbor (Spencer Donovan Jones) playing the violin.

The staging by Lila Neugebauer (with scenic design by Mimi Lien and lighting by Lap Chi Chu and Elizabeth Harper) roots us in Alexander’s country estate, nailing notions of mundanity even as the world around the characters remains somewhat ambiguous. A Miles Davis record plays in the background of one scene, a comforting soundtrack countered by the group of deteriorating people occasionally forced to reckon the world around them — far away, but falling apart all the same.

Carell’s presence will no doubt invite fans of The Office and his other works to the theater, and they won’t be disappointed: he certainly earns his laughs as Vanya buries his pain, pokes fun at his companions, chases after a lost love. Though the bitterness boiling beneath the piece may catch them off guard, Neugebauer and Schreck have crafted an especially accessible adaptation, for better or worse. B–

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