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Which Came First: The System or The Seagull?
Bella Merlin
New Theatre Quarterly / Volume 15 / Issue 03 / August 1999, pp 218 - 227
DOI: 10.1017/S0266464X00013014, Published online: 15 January 2009
Link to this article: http://journals.cambridge.org/abstract_S0266464X00013014
How to cite this article:
Bella Merlin (1999). Which Came First: The System or The Seagull?. New Theatre Quarterly, 15, pp
218-227 doi:10.1017/S0266464X00013014
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Bella Merlin
Which Came First:
The System or 'The Seagull'?
Anton Chekhov's dissatisfaction with Konstantin Stanislavsky's early productions of
his plays is well known and oft-discussed. However, it may be argued that the detailed
analysis to which Stanislavsky subjected the script of The Seagull, though offensive to
the author's intentions, led to the germination of Stanislavsky's acting system as well as
laying the foundations for the success of Chekhov's own dramatic career. Bella Merlin,
Lecturer in Drama and Theatre Arts at Birmingham University, explores this avenue of
debate by assessing the possible reasons for the Alexandrinsky Theatre's failure in its
premiere of The Seagull in 1896. Thereafter, the mutual dependency of Chekhov and
Stanislavsky is discussed with reference to the success of the Moscow Art Theatre's
production of 1898. In the following article in this issue, she links these reflections on the
play's early fortunes to its relevance to the 'Method of Physical Actions' developed by
Stanislavsky towards the end of his career.
Theatrical life is entering a new phase. A hard
struggle lies ahead with the advocates of obsolete
forms of stagey superficiality, but the essential
point is that the first step has been taken.
1
MORE THAN one hundred years ago, the
Moscow Art Theatre's first production of The
Seagull elicited this response from the critic
Gnedich. The 'first step' was towards a chal-
lenging, innovative theatrical form and a
provocative new acting style. Looking back
over the century, the tremors sent by this pro-
duction through dramatic works and acting
processes may be traced from east to west
across the gamut of genres and styles.
However, The Seagull proved to be a
success almost in spite of itself. Alarming
crises of confidence had been experienced by
the author, cast, and directors before, during,
and immediately following the event; dire
disagreements ensued within the triad of
Stanislavsky, Nemirovich-Danchenko, and
Chekhov in subsequent years. Yet in spite of
this a theatrical legend had emerged and a
method of acting had developed which has
since come to underpin contemporary perfor-
mance. Theatrical life had certainly entered
'a new phase'.
The Seagull became legendary as much for
its failure as for its success. There were many
established performers in the Russian theatre
whose creative understanding failed to
grasp Chekhov's new style. Lensky refused
to give a critique of The Seagull, finding it
entirely unstageable. He advised Chekhov to
stop writing for the theatre, as it was simply
not his genre. The Maly Theatre, in which
Lensky was a leading male, was a bastion of
contemporary theatrical acclaim following
the precedents of Shchepkin and Gogol. Yet
one of its principal practitioners could damn
so incontrovertibly a new play which was
later to be seen as a turning point in modern
drama.
The world premiere of the play in 1896 at
the Alexandrinsky Theatre, St. Petersburg,
was an infamous failure. Under Yevtikhy
Karpov's direction, the production received
critical notices which rival one another in
condemnation. "The play is impossibly bad',
slated one, while another declared that
'From all points of view, whether of idea,
literature or stage, Chekhov's play cannot
even be called bad, but absolutely absurd.'
2
What can have possibly prompted such
unequivocal reactions?
One answer is that, intentionally or not,
Chekhov broke theatrical conventions with-
in a social and artistic climate which was not
prepared for such an innovation. These were
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the conventions which had tripped up the
Alexandrinsky company in their attempt to
stage Chekhov's play, and the conventions
upon which Nemirovich-Danchenko and
Stanislavsky had declared war during their
initial discussion in 1897 at the Slavyansky
Bazaar. Then, among their revolutionary pro-
posals, they advocated that the preparation
of each new production must be extended
beyond the usual few days of rehearsal to a
period of some weeks. Therefore, plans for
the Moscow Seagull began in August 1898
with the premiere taking place in December.
By contrast, the Alexandrinsky Theatre had
allocated a mere seven days' rehearsal for
Chekhov's new play. It would have been
impossible in so short a time for the cast and
director to appreciate that they were con-
fronting a revolutionary dramatic style and
that consequently new performance tech-
niques might be needed.
Added to this, the one person who might
have provided invaluable help - the author -
was curiously absent from the first rehearsal,
at which he himself was due to have read the
play to the assembled cast. His replacement
by the prompter, followed by the actors'
confusion at the end of the read-through,
revealed the hiatus between the 'new tones'
which they realized to exist and their in-
ability to manifest them.
After all, there was no 'system' as yet to
depend on. This was an era of casting to type
or emploi: 'the normal actor would specialize
in one standard character and reproduce . . .
the young hero and lover, as long as he was
physically able.'
3
This was one reason why
only a brief rehearsal period was thought
necessary: short cuts to a role were the order
of the day. The upshot of this practice was
that actors were stymied when presented
with all the psychological complexities of a
Masha or the anti-heroism of a Konstantin.
Chekhov had rendered the type 'seemingly
superfluous by the individualizing psycho-
logical treatment that he gave to each of his
characters'.
4
This break with convention may also
account for the constant changing of roles
among the Alexandrinsky actors during the
brief seven-day rehearsal period. Savina was
due to play Nina, from which she withdrew
and took Arkadina, from which role she also
withdrew and subsequently took over the
role of Masha from the actress Chitau. It was
not until the costume-fitting that Chitau dis-
covered that Savina had now withdrawn from
the role of Masha and that Chitau herself
would be needed for this part.
Evidently, Savina lost confidence as she
struggled fruitlessly to identify her emploi
among the available female characters in The
Seagull. Conventions and formulae were just
not available to sustain the actors' 'temper-
aments', and with little rehearsal time in
which to develop other strategies, they were
left floundering. The material with which
Chekhov was presenting them was delicate,
suggestive, provocative, and they simply did
not possess the tools with which to unlock
the text.
Chekhov himself was ill-equipped to offer
them advice. Since he was neither an actor
nor a director, he had no vocabulary with
which he might speak to them in order to
awaken the style of playing that his script
required. This might explain his absence at
the initial read-through: perhaps he foresaw
the difficulties that would arise from his
strange new play, and chose to stay away.
Enter the Moscow Art Theatre
Many of the clues as to how to enter the life
of The Seagull can in fact be seen quite clearly
in the text, although it requires critical skills
as well as artistic skills to access these clues.
Nemirovich-Danchenko's background pro-
vided the necessary combination of literary
analysis and an appreciation of acting pro-
cesses. Added to this, his belief that new
writing was crucial for the advancement of
popular theatre proved pivotal in the next
stage, that of integrating The Seagull into the
repertoire. Stanislavsky was fascinated by
the classics, and by comedies, notably those
of Shakespeare and Moliere. Nemirovich-
Danchenko sought to divert Stanislavsky's
artistic tastes from fantasy and history and
'plunge him into the most ordinary every-
day realities, filled with our most ordinary
everyday emotions'.
5
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Chekhov's play challenged the Russian
theatre's staple diet of usually third-rate
European melodramas, and with this play
Nemirovich-Danchenko strove to challenge
Stanislavsky's theatrical appetite. Once he
had allied the creative forces of Stanislavsky
and Chekhov, the onus was then on Stanis-
lavsky to manifest the text in a theatrically
dynamic way.
In 1898 Stanislavsky's skills as a director
were in their infancy. He was baffled by the
new dramatic forms presented by Chekhov
in The Seagull, later confessing that 'to my
shame I did not understand the play'.
6
Creating the mise-en-scene from his solitary
study in the Ukraine, he wrote feverishly to
Nemirovich-Danchenko, declaring: 'I cannot
say whether the planning of The Seagull is
good or worthless. . . . I could be heading in
entirely the wrong direction.'
7
Given this
lack of confidence in the process, the pro-
duction might not have proceeded had it not
been for Nemirovich-Danchenko's faith in
his colleagues' work.
His artistic matchmaking continued with
his response to Stanislavsky's experimental
prompt-copy, declaring that the 'mise-en-
scene has turned out perfectly. Chekhov was
in raptures about it.'
8
Stanislavsky's time
spent devising the mise-en-scene enabled him
to perceive and unlock the clues within the
text, many of which lay directly within the
stage directions. Throughout the script of The
Seagull, Chekhov supplied details of char-
acter, action, and even decor that demanded
a revitalization of staging practices. Since it
was common for most theatres to allocate a
short preparation time to each play, props,
sets, and costumes (usually provided by the
actors themselves, with the leading lady
dictating colour and cut) were regularly
recycled.
Making the Intangible Specific
It was not appropriate with Chekhov's play
to drag the stock canvas garden or reception
room from the theatre storeroom. The
intimate stage directions of The Seagull, with
the 'broad avenue [leading] away from the
audience into the depths of the park towards
the lake', and 'a stage which has hurriedly
been run up for some home entertainment',
indicated the arrival of an 'innovation' which
was devoured by Stanislavsky - namely, the
creation of 'atmosphere'.
9
The ambience
evoked so particularly by Chekhov would
clearly have been jeopardized by the re-
hashing of storeroom backcloths: he sought
the specific, not the general.
Stanislavsky chose to create atmosphere
very specifically. Here again, The Seagull was a
success in spite of itself, since Stanislavsky's
incessant soundtrack of corncrakes and
croaking frogs became infamous for its
intrusiveness. Yet this was simply his first
naive attempt to manifest tangibly the
intangible atmosphere resonating through
the 'half-tones' of Chekhov's writing - an
aspect of his unavoidable inexperience as
he struggled with the new theatrical style
which had scuppered the Alexandrinsky
Theatre two years earlier. In retrospect,
Stanislavsky acknowledged and defended
this creative naivety as part of his own learn-
ing process.
10
His later attempts to make tangible the
subtleties of the writing were thus evidently
confounded by Chekhov's own inconsis-
tency with regard to detail. Having insisted
on a military general being present at the
rehearsals for Three Sisters to ensure absolute
accuracy of interpretation, Chekhov was
unhelpfully vague with the specifics of the
Prozorovs' house, maintaining that he 'felt
only the atmosphere of each room separ-
ately, but not its walls'.
11
With such evasive-
ness on the part of the writer, Stanislavsky
can be forgiven for making unsophisticated
choices in these early, pioneering days of
naturalism.
Both practitioners knew that they were
striving for something new, but were not yet
able - or in Chekhov's case entirely willing -
to state in certain terms the manner by which
it could be achieved. The result of this was
that a universal misconception was perpetu-
ated regarding 'atmosphere', construed by
Stanislavsky as the Chekhovian 'mood' - a
term officially chronicled in his notes on Three
Sisters in 1899.
12
The confusion between
'atmosphere' (as suggested by Chekhov) and
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The Moscow Art Theatre production of The Seagull in 1898. Top: V. A. Simov's set for Act One. Bottom: Arkadina
(Olga Knipper, seated) as the focus of attention
'mood' (as created by Stanislavsky) serves as
an illustration of a drama's affective commu-
nication with its audience: in brief, what
moves the audience may not always be what
the author intends. The 1898 production was
a success almost in spite of itself due to the
director-producer's reading of the play in
the light of its social and political vibrations.
Unwittingly, Stanislavsky presented an
interpretation of The Seagull with which the
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audience could empathize. As a member of
the educated classes to which theatre is tradi-
tionally most readily available, Stanislavsky
unconsciously identified its prevailing mood
of depression, melancholia, and monotony.
Chekhov's native roots were of the
working class, and his popular successes
to date had been through the channels of
vaudeville, prose fiction, and writing a
newspaper column. Stanislavsky inevitably
identified with the classes which Chekhov
was undoubtedly, albeit subtly, satirizing.
Stanislavsky's need to break hollow acting
cliches combined with the spectators' own
identification with the material, and led to
the unanimous success (with the audience, if
not with the author) of the play's 'mood'.
In time, the political climate underwent
radical changes. The result of Stanislavsky's
social angle on Chekhov's plays was that by
1925 the works were considered bourgeois
anti-government propaganda. The political
and social 'mood' had changed, and the plays
as interpreted by the Moscow Art Theatre
were no longer palatable. The directors were
left with little choice but to retire Chekhov's
canon gracefully from the repertoire.
'Mood' and doom, however, were not
Stanislavsky's sole concern, even in 1898.
Clearly his political and social empathy was
different from Chekhov's, but it would be
unfair to accuse Stanislavsky of overlooking
all the author's wit and humour. In fact, it
was Nemirovich-Danchenko who had initially
suppressed Stanislavsky's own choice of
comic details in the 1898 mise-en-scene. As
he explained to Stanislavsky, T thought I
should take out anything which disposes the
audience to unnecessary laughter so that
they may be ready to receive the best pas-
sages in the play.'
13
In consequence, he asked
that the on-stage audience should restrain
their acting during Konstantin's play, so
as to avoid pulling focus from the 'tense,
decadent, sombre mood' of Nina and
Konstantin.
This clearly exposes Nemirovich's mis-
understanding of the nature of this scene -
as not an examination of the new theatrical
symbolism as explored in Konstantin's play,
but a comic scene juxtaposing 'the play
within the play' with the reactions of the on-
stage audience. Stanislavsky understood this,
and yet was quashed by his co-producer's
differing and misconceived interpretation.
Contrary to Nemirovich-Danchenko's belief,
the 'decadent, sombre mood' must not
'dominate the frivolous mood of the other
characters':
14
they are co-existent and contra-
puntal. Thus it was Nemirovich-Danchenko
who in some respects laid the foundation for
the eternal debate regarding the comedy in
Chekhov's dramas.
Realism versus Naturalism
Despite the conflicts of intention and inter-
pretation, the Seagull 'legend' somehow
developed against the odds. From an
objective point of view, the practitioners
clearly had different aims: on the one hand,
the co-founders of the Moscow Art Theatre
had consciously formulated an artistic
agenda which they hoped to pursue. On
the other hand, Chekhov 'did not give
the slightest thought to revolutionizing the
theatre. He did not even give a thought to
being more original than someone else.'
15
Instead his desire was to devise interesting
roles for actors, through which they could
reveal 'the beauty of the ordinary, the
inconspicuous, everyday beauty of life'.
16
It was this interest in character and
humanity which was mutual to both parties,
in spite of their differences in artistic goals.
They were both seeking a theatre of 'truth'.
Chekhov achieved this by challenging actor
and audience alike with his move from the
melodramatic hyperbole of external action -
with exposition, denouement, and a plethora
of traditions in between - to indirect action or
inner activity. With no exposition of dramatic
action, the logic of plot and intrigue was
replaced by the logic of sensation and
emotion, as behind the apparent inactivity of
each character lay a complex inner life. This
shift into the realm of psychological beha-
viour initiated a theatre of contradictions
which drew upon the incongruity of human
behaviour. It was these nuances and sug-
gestions, along with the universal 'everyday
beauty' within each character's particular
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The famous posed picture of Chekhov reading The Seagull to the Moscow Art Theatre company. Olga Knipper sits
on his right, Stanislavsky on his left, and Nemirovich-Danchenko stands at the far left.
life, that Stanislavsky sought to present in
concrete dramatic actions on the stage.
Following Shchepkin's instruction to 'take
your models from life', and 'always keep
nature in your sights', Stanislavsky began to
examine the implications of 'natural' beha-
viour for the theatre practitioner.
17
Very
quickly the emotional and psychological
states into which the actor constantly con-
torts himself became evident. He is forced to
cry when he is not unhappy, forced to laugh
when he is sad, and essentially to embark on
a series of strains, violations, and false stage
conventionalities to coerce the public into
accepting his deceit.
In an attempt to overcome these contor-
tions, Stanislavsky turned to 'slice-of-life'
evocation. Perhaps it was his attentive
analysis of Chekhov's stage directions in The
Seagull which, at this stage in his artistic
development, caused Stanislavsky to perceive
naturalistic details as a key to liberating the
actor from convention and contortion. With
naive fervour, he took such details to excess,
with tolling bells, crashing storms, breaking
glass, and barking dogs. This is particularly
apparent in Act Four when Nina leaves
Konstantin towards the climax of the play.
Here is another example of the 1898
production succeeding in spite of itself.
Chekhov had described the play as ending
pianissimo, 'contrary to the rules of dramatic
art', and yet Stanislavsky's tolling bell and
breaking glass overruled the playwright's
decision.
18
None the less the curtain fell to
uproarious applause. Stanislavsky had struck
a chord with the audience despite ignoring
Chekhov's directive.
So whose success was it? Chekhov and
Stanislavsky were clearly striving for
different ends at this point in theatre history.
Stanislavsky was seeking to alleviate the
unnatural processes of the acting craft by
taking his models from life. Chekhov wished
to illuminate the everyday beauties of life,
and so filled his text with stage directions
detailing decor and environment. Stanislavsky
followed Chekhov's suggestions, but rather
over-enthusiastically for Chekhov's taste.
The result was a production that Chekhov
abhorred and the audience adored. There-
fore - as J. L. Styan asks - was it really
Stanislavsky who had earned the applause
or was it Chekhov?
19
Had Chekhov brought
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Stanislavsky success, or had Stanislavsky
saved Chekhov from a repetition of the
Alexandrinsky disaster? The dialogue bet-
ween the practitioners and, perhaps more
significantly, between the audience and the
material was in a very delicate balance.
Although Chekhov detested much of the
naturalistic detail chosen by Stanislavsky for
this production, it earned him success. Had
the directors pursued the author's desires
more closely, perhaps such success would
have eluded him.
In effect, Chekhov was two steps ahead of
his time and one step ahead of Stanislavsky,
who (mercifully for the play's success) was
only one step ahead of his contemporary
audience. In other words, Stanislavsky was
seeking a theatrical revolution through the
naturalistic barking of dogs and croaking of
frogs, and the public were (for a short time)
excited by the innovation. However, Chekhov
was developing a redefined notion of realism:
the universal in the particular. Without Stanis-
lavsky's literal presentation of the details of
daily life, the nuances of Chekhov's realism
might have eluded the contemporary audi-
ence, as Siegfried Melchinger believes:
[Stanislavsky] led the Russian theatre in a differ-
ent direction from the one Chekhov had in mind.
Perhaps even, considering the course of history,
his was the only direction possible. Chekhov's
goals were perhaps too much in advance of the
times to be comprehensible to his contempor-
aries.
20
Stanislavsky was presenting his audience
with a style and 'atmosphere' with which
they could identify and to which they could
respond. It was not to Chekhov's taste, but it
drew the audience to (rather than alienating
them from) a significant innovation in the
theatre.
Developing an Acting System
It was not enough for Stanislavsky that he
alone should have the artistic insight to
reach into Chekhov's text. The company of
actors would also need new skills, since
Chekhov's dramatic structure was 'made
and planned according to its own laws (such
laws as balance, rhythm, conciseness, and
control) that are not applicable to life - and
this structure is a work of art'.
21
His plays
were not melodramas and vaudevilles with
recognizable forms; if they were to be per-
formed with the beauty with which they
were written, they would require actors with
a similar understanding of the laws of
balance, rhythm, conciseness, and control.
Formula had to be replaced with the specific,
stock characterization with individuality,
representation with psychology, and the
short cut with detailed analysis. Tools would
be needed by the actors to create such com-
plex characters and to tackle such detailed
analysis.
The Seagull was the catalyst which pro-
voked Stanislavsky into applying new laws
to the acting process in order that it too might
be structured as an art form. As he struggled
to make theatrical and psychological sense
of Chekhov's play, he forged certain 'tools'
which later became part of his system.
Amongst these tools were subtext, tempo-
rhythm, ensemble interaction, and inner action.
Nemirovich-Danchenko and Stanislavsky
introduced during rehearsals of The Seagull
the term 'subtext' or padtekst as a means of
revealing and expressing the psychological
motives hidden beneath Chekhov's lines,
which only occasionally surface - as with
Arkadina's jubilant declaration, 'Now I've
got him', as she concludes her seduction of
Trigorin in Act Three. Stanislavsky's skill in
devising the mise-en-scene was his instinctive
understanding of psychological subtext.
In describing The Seagull, Nemirovich-
Danchenko had asked: 'How was one to
utter these simplest phrases simply and yet
retain the sense of the theatre and avoid
desperate tedium?'
22
Through the detail of
the mise-en-scene, Stanislavsky shifted atten-
tion from the literalness of the text, with the
result that the simplest of phrases revealed
unspoken but textured human responses.
Characters no longer directly confronted or
overtly confessed, but rather sought to avoid
the personal connection.
Thus Nina's question 'What kind of a tree
is that?' in Act One illustrates her need to im-
personalize a situation in which Konstantin
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does try to confront her and confess. The
contradiction between her subtext and his
text - 'I love you' - offer the spectator both
dramatic tension and comic release. The
subtext is the pulse that inspires the actor.
Through it, he or she can find a personal
connection with the character and therefore
an authentic desire to embark on the char-
acter's journey. It provides the springboard
from actor into character, and as such it is the
actor's opportunity to co-create with the
writer.
Since the concept of subtext was new to
members of the early Moscow Art Theatre,
methods were invented to assist the actors in
their understanding of the 'tool', and its use
and application. To this end, Nemirovich-
Danchenko encouraged the cast to create an
'inner monologue', a constant stream of
thought alerting the actors to the discrep-
ancies between what they say and what they
mean in response to the on-stage partner's
words. The channelling of concentration
onto one's fellow actors was of further
significance in that it actively broke the 'star'
system of acting. No one actor was in a
leading role: all roles were supporting in the
sense that every character (and every actor)
became mutually dependent on the others.
Thus subtext played an important part in
the development of the ensemble interaction
upon which Chekhov's plays depended.
This was assisted in part by Stanislavsky's
transference of the actors' attention from
their own subtext to understanding a fellow
character's subtext: for he maintained that,
while each actor's subtext was of course
automatically clear to its author, 'it is all
new' to the on-stage partner; therefore, 'it
must be decoded and absorbed'.
23
Thus, the actors were not only encour-
aged to speak their text as informed by their
own subtext, but also to be in a constant state
of decoding their partner's subtext while
listening to the words which were actually
being spoken. This should create in effect an
immediate and dynamic connection and
tension between the performers, both as
actors and as characters. Each actor is attend-
ing to the other performer's unspoken inten-
tion as well as the actual spoken words. In
the light of Stanislavsky's later explorations,
this process of listening and 'decoding' now
seems dangerously intellectual. But in 1898
any subtextual interaction, however cerebral,
was new and challenging to the Moscow Art
Theatre company, a significant departure
from usual acting techniques.
For Stanislavsky, the first rule of dialogue
was that an actor directed 'limitless atten-
tion' to his on-stage partner.
24
The result was
that the western world was astounded by
the ensemble playing of the Moscow Art
Theatre actors, as demonstrated during their
American tour in the 1920s. Stanislavsky and
Nemirovich-Danchenko's desire to fight the
star system, combined with the style of
Chekhov's plays, had necessited a new level
of communion on-stage.
Non-Verbal Communication
Performers and critics alike have drawn
attention to the profundity of human inter-
action in these texts. Maria Knebbel, who
had played Charlotta in the Moscow Art
Theatre's production of The Cherry Orchard,
maintained that 'it demands an ideal en-
semble'.
25
And J. L. Styan has suggested that
'because of Chekhov's submerged character
relationships, few other dramatists have
demanded ensemble playing of such a high
order'.
26
While such communion would not have
been tangible to Stanislavsky as he sat in
solitude writing his mise-en-scene, his speci-
fication of physical activities and pauses
within the spoken text illustrates his intuitive
comprehension of the unseen connections
between one character and another. He
understood the correlation between the inner
action experienced by one character and its
outer expression as communicated to another.
Again, he was helped by the clues provided
in the playwright's text. Chekhov included
fifty pauses in his text of The Seagull, thereby
acknowledging the psychological and dram-
atic potential of silence: and this number was
enthusiastically doubled by Stanislavsky in
his mise-en-scene. As Nemirovich-Danchenko
acknowledged, such non-verbal communi-
cation was a major innovation:
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the nearer to life, the farther from the gliding,
uninterrupted 'literary' flow so characteristic of
the old theatre. . . . [Pauses] were to manifest
the completion of an immediately experienced
perturbation, to prepare for an outburst of an
approaching emotion, or to imply a silence
charged with intensity."
27
Pauses are the real filter of subtextual infor-
mation. It is only in the moments of silence
that the actor can truly listen to his psycho-
physical apparatus, which comprises body,
imagination, and emotion. It is only in zones
of stillness that the actor can truly hear the
words of his on-stage partner and respond to
them on a psycho-physical level.
If the pauses provided a means by which
the actor might begin to monitor his inner
life, they also served an important function
in the tempo-rhythm of the play as a whole
and of individual characters. Stanislavsky's
awareness of the importance of tempo-
rhythm stemmed from his work at the
Bolshoi Theatre in 1888 with the direc-
tor Fyodor Komissarzhevsky. Together they
explored ways of sitting and walking to the
accompaniment of a pianist who varied the
rhythm and tempo of the music - 'tempo'
suggesting the speed at which an action is
executed, and 'rhythm' relating to the inten-
sity of the action or experience.
Following certain textual references pro-
vided in The Seagull, Stanislavsky's mise-en-
scene describes various physical activities for
particular characters which are suggestive of
their inner tempo-rhythm and consequently
their psychological being. Thus, Medvedenko
smokes a lot, Masha takes a pinch of snuff,
and Arkadina impetuously folds her arms
behind her back when she's angry. Each of
these physical activities is ultimately related
to a speed and an intensity, and intended
not as 'vulgar naturalism' but 'to reveal per-
sonality, the inner state of thought and
emotion'.
28
In some respects, this was an embryonic
version of the Method of Physical Actions.
Here, however, the director imposed the
physical actions on the actors; later they
would discover them themselves as a text
was explored psycho-physically through
improvisation - as was the practice in the
1920s and 1930s when Stanislavsky was
formulating the Method of Physical Actions.
None the less, his emphasis on physicality
even in these early days demonstrates his
awareness that emotion was not subject to
direction. As he subsequently wrote in An
Actor Prepares, 'for the feelings we must seek
out the tempo-rhythm that underlies the
inner emotions and the external actions of a
part'.
29
External action even included simply
standing: to 'stand and watch for a mouse -
that is one rhythm; to watch a tiger that is
creeping up on you is quite another'.
30
If Stanislavsky was developing an embry-
onic Method of Physical Actions with the
1898 production of The Seagull, one stage
direction in particular would have provided
him with a useful insight into the integration
of pause, physical action, tempo-rhythm and
inner action - namely, Chekhov's direction
concerning Konstantin's reaction to Nina's
final departure:
Over the next two minutes he silently tears up
all his manuscripts and throws them under the
desk.
31
The effect of two minutes of silence on stage
is not to be underestimated; if the zone of
silence is the actor's means to connect his
inner motive-forces of imagination, emotion,
and body, this is just such an extended
opportunity for the actor who is playing
Konstantin. The physical action of tearing
the manuscripts - his life's work - is a
tangible manifestation of the inner tearing of
his hope, his life, and his love. That the
operation lasts two minutes suggests a sus-
tained rhythm, undoubtedly full of passion
and pain, and containing an emotion which
leads Konstantin to the ultimate action of
destruction: suicide. In one stage direction,
the playwright hints at physical action,
inner action, subtext, tempo-rhythm - and a
style of psychological drama new to the
Russian theatre of the 1890s.
Ensemble Interdependence
Through his attention to the playwright's
text and his hunger for a psychological
theatre, Stanislavsky found in The Seagull a
226
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mine of resources which prompted him to
explore naturalism and thereafter develop
this into a realistic style of theatre. As he
acknowledged:
From the sum total of demands made by the play-
wright, the producer, and the artist, an entirely
novel stage atmosphere was created for our
actors.... [The] theatre succeeded in finding new
techniques of scenic interpretation, based on
the behest of Shchepkin and the innovation of
Chekhov.
32
Within such an exploratory climate, Chekhov
in turn was provoked to develop his new
dramatic style. It was undoubtedly Stanis-
lavsky's attention to the acting process
which, in the words of theorist, Divadelni
Ustav,
made possible, either directly or indirectly, the
creation of dramatic works which their authors
might never have created, if they had not been
convinced that is was possible to interpret truth-
fully the finer shades of various psychological
processes.
33
To return to the question, 'Which came first -
the system or The Seagull?', it was of course
the publication of The Seagull which preceded
the system's formal notation. An apter con-
sideration might be: who developed whom -
the author or the amateur? It would appear to
be a case of mutual, if somewhat fortuitous,
ensemble interaction.
Notes and References
1. Polyakova, E., Stanislavsky, trans. Liz Tudge
(Moscow: Progress, 1977), p. 109.
2. Nemirovich-Danchenko, V., My Life in the Russian
Theatre, trans. John Cournos (Boston: Little Brown,
1936), p. 65.
3. Kleberg, L., and Nilssen, N. A., eds., Theatre and
Literature in Russia, 1900-1930 (Denmark: Armquist,
Wiksell, 1984), p. 27.
4. Ibid.
5. Nemirovich-Danchenko, V., My Life in the Russian
Theatre, p. 148.
6. Cited in Benedetti, J. N., Stanislavsky: a Biography
(London: Methuen, 1990), p. 74.
7. Cited in Polyakova, E., Stanislavsky, p. 99-101.
8. Ibid., p. 101.
9. Chekhov, A., The Seagull, trans. Michael Frayn
(London: Methuen, 1993), p. 1.
10. Gorchakov, N. M., Stanislavsky Directs, trans.
Miriam Goldina (New York: Limelight, 1991), p. 143.
11. Stanislavsky, K. S., The Stanislavsky Legacy:
Comments on Some Aspects of an Actor's Art and Life, trans.
Elizabeth Reynolds Hapgood (London: Max Reinhardt,
1958), p. 98.
12. Benedetti, J. N., Stanislavsky: a Biography, p. 107.
13. Benedetti, J. N., trans., The Moscow Art Theatre
Letters (London: Methuen, 1991), p. 33.
14. Ibid.
15. Nemirovich-Danchenko, V., My Life in the
Russian Theatre, p. 19.
16. Yermilov. V., Anton Pavlovich Chekhov, trans. Ivy
Litvinov (Moscow: Moscow Publishing House, 1946),
p. 147.
17. Polyakova, E., Stanislavsky, p. 29.
18. Letter to Suvorin cited in Styan, J. L., Realism and
Naturalism: Modern Drama in Theory and Practice, 1
(Cambridge University Press, 1995), p. 77.
19. Styan, J. L., Realism and Naturalism, p. 77.
20. Melchinger, S., Anton Chekhov (New York: Ungar,
1972), p. 67.
21. Ibid., p. 9.
22. Nemirovich-Danchenko, V., My Life in the
Russian Theatre, p. 63.
23. Stanislavsky, K. S., Building a Character, trans.
Elizabeth Reynolds Hapgood (London: Methuen, 1988),
p. 121.
24. Gorchakov, N. M., Stanislavsky Directs, p. 318.
25. Cited in Magarshack, D., The Real Chekhov: an
Introduction to Chekhov's Last Plays (London: Allen and
Unwin, 1972), p. viii.
26. Styan, J. L., Realism and Naturalism, p. 89.
27. Nemirovich-Danchenko, V., My Life in the
Russian Theatre, p. 162.
28. Benedetti, J. N., Stanislavsky: a Biography, p. 76.
29. Stanislavsky, K.S., An Actor Prepares, trans.
Elizabeth Reynolds Hapgood (London: Methuen, 1980),
p. 250.
30. Cited in Toporkov, V. O., Stanislavsky in
Rehearsal: the Final Years, trans. Christine Edwards (New
York: Theatre Arts, 1979), p. 62.
31. Chekhov, A., The Seagull, p. 65.
32. Stanislavsky, K. S. Selected Works, trans. V.
Yankilevsky (Moscow: Raduga Press, 1984), p. 126.
33. Theatre Institute, Prague, 48th Publication,
Konstantin Sergeyvich Stanislavsky, trans. Jean Eisterava
(Prague: Theatre Institute, 1963), p. 44.
227