On sack and ale they had nourished: opening on Broadway in Shakespeare's Henry IV (TIME, May 20), England's Old Vic seemed lustily alive. But vodka was not quite their drink; and in Chekhov's Uncle Vanya last week the Old Vic did some noticeable stumbling.
The trouble was twofold: they had neither chosen too wisely nor performed too well. Playing Chekhov in another language must always discolor him a little; and to offer U.S. audiences a perceptibly British version of Chekhov is to discolor him further. Moreover, the reserved and chin-up British are not entirely...
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