Director's Note: Uncle Vanya

I don’t think Chekhov ever intended to be “Chekhovian.” Just as Shakespeare never intended to be Shakespearean and Shaw, Shavian. No, wait, on second thought, GBS probably intended to inspire this distinction.

When Chekhov wrote his plays, he wasn’t seeking to become a playwright who was creating a new dramatic style, he was just a country doctor who loved to write. He famously referred to his medical work as “his lawful wife” and literature as “his mistress.” He elegantly blended the two: his responsibilities as a doctor and his passion for writing. In his stories, he captured the real people he met, revealing their quiet struggles, fragile hopes and timid victories. He had a deep respect for them, both in body and spirit. In medicine and art, he cared for people with equal tenderness. As a doctor, he saw their full humanity. As a writer, he unveiled their dignity and resilience.

But labeling his unique style of writing as “Chekhovian” imposes a strange elitist pressure on his plays—a kind of invisible hierarchy—making it seem as if only certain audiences or special artists can unlock its deeper truths, when really, it should be ours to experience and enjoy freely. Because those people he writes about are us.

So, as it’s a beautiful play, I’m excited for us to tell a great story about these extraordinarily ordinary people. People like us. People just like us. The extended family we meet in Uncle Vanya is living at a moment in Russian history brimming with potential and transformation. It is the 1880s—just two decades after the emancipation of the serfs, a system that had evolved over 700 years. In its wake, there was a surge of optimism, a bold introduction of modernity, and a fragile yet powerful promise of freedom and self-determination.

This made their disheartening reality feel like an even deeper betrayal, as years of struggle and hardship wore on, relentless and unchanged. Their imagined futures stalled, and the quiet yearning for a better life, smothered. Buried by the absence of leadership or sacrifice from the ruling class—no plan for equality, no widespread healthcare or education—only stagnation and disillusionment.

Which made the need for love and connection and meaning in their lives feel profoundly necessary—a lifeline to keep them from being suffocated by despair.

This is where our play begins.

I hope you fall in love with these characters and their beautifully painful imperfections as I have come to.

I want to give a special thanks to our beloved Nate Burger for this gorgeous adaptation.

- Brenda DeVita, Director of Uncle Vanya