Hello, reader! How are you doing? You’re looking very well, I must say.
Last week I went to see Anya Reiss’ modernised version of Uncle Vanya at the St James Theatre, starring the relentlessly wonderful John Hannah as Vanya. Having studied all kinds of plays at uni – including the work of that cheerless bunch of bastards known as “the Naturalists” – I am already as familiar as I want to be with Chekhov’s story of love, labour, loss and smug gits. I mainly went to see John Hannah, if I’m honest.
For those of you who were not forced to read two Naturalist plays a week for a year, all you really need to know is this: traditionally Naturalist plays are characterised by all of the characters being miserable, and unanimously doing sod all about it. Actually, that’s not very fair: sometimes they commit suicide. But that’s about it in terms of problem-solving techniques.
What these characters do instead of pro-actively fixing their lives is talk. They bitch about each other, they speculate on each other’s love lives and futures, they whine a LOT about the causes of their constant unhappiness, and they make terrible jokes. What I like about Uncle Vanya as a play is that someone finally picks another character up on this. Vanya is to be pitied for falling in love with a much younger, married woman, but it’s not her fault that she doesn’t feel the same way. Will he shut up about it and behave with a shred of dignity? Will he calmly and quietly enjoy their friendship for what it is? Will he resist the temptation to constantly attempt emotional blackmail? Of course not. Understandably, Yelena cracks in the face of Vanya’s relentless whining and tells him to shut up. Well, wouldn’t you? I mean, John Hannah is absolutely wonderful, but even in his sultry Scottish voice, Vanya’s lines sound pathetic.
I am a big fan of words, talking and verbal communication in general. I think that it is healthy and positive to have conversations about your feelings, and to process ideas and upheavals by discussing them with loved ones. But venting about our problems means absolutely nothing if we are not willing to do anything about them. It’s all very well and good to bemoan a bad situation, but if there are steps you can take towards resolving it – even if it’s just walking away with your dignity intact – why not take the flipping steps?
It makes no sense to talk the talk without walking the walk, especially when it comes to our emotional well-being. Talking about stuff is wonderful, but (unfortunately) it won’t always solve our problems. If you think about it there is always something that you can actively do to make a situation better for yourself, no matter how small or seemingly inconsequential it might be.
Also, acting upon your social survival instincts can lead to good things, and it teaches us to follow through with stuff we know is good for us. For example, since I came back from the Fringe I have been contemplating (out loud and in front of witnesses. Oops) taking up indoor climbing. The time has come for me to face my fear (and a wall, presumably), so tomorrow I will be going climbing with a friend of mine who has given me strict instructions not to “fall off and die”. I will do my best. Assuming that I’m successful, I’ll report back on Friday.
Have an amazing week. Eat super tasty breakfasts every day.