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In German director Thomas Ostermeier’s engrossing update of Anton Chekhov’s The Seagull, moody aspiring playwright Konstantin rages against an establishment that won’t appreciate his talents. “Theatre is awful. It’s overpriced, elitist, indulgent, outdated and entirely irrelevant to what’s actually happening in the world,” he complains.
But Ostermeier’s production absolves itself of most of these charges, even though it’s stuffed with enough big names – not least Cate Blanchett as deluded actress Arkadina – to ensure that tickets will only make their way into the hands of a lucky few. It probes the relationship between art, obsession and self-deception, poring over and riffing on its themes like a rock song (“Golden Brown” by The Stranglers patterns through its scenes).