Ivanov

Walking into the room that the play Ivanov was being shown, I couldn’t help but automatically draw comparisons to the other performing arts centers we were at. It seemed like this was a lot more similar to Spellbeamed’s setting, and not very much at all like Lincoln Center or Carnegie Hall. And, just to clarify, being like Spellbeamed isn’t a good thing. Thankfully, the comparisons to Spellbeamed ended there.

As I approached my seat, I noticed that it was on the stage. Not next to. On. Sitting down and waiting for the show to start, I started to feel almost as if I was part of the production. Ethan Hawke was rolling around on the bed, close enough for me to see (and feel?) his spit. If that doesn’t get you to feel like part of the production, I don’t know what does.

This feeling of being part of the play continued throughout the night. Whether it was tables being moved in front of my feet, actors passing by inches in front of me, or some more spit, it created an atmosphere that made it impossible to to get absorbed into the play. I got excited at the intense moments and felt the emotions flowing through the production. Laughing along with the actors only helped to make me feel as if I was sitting in a live parlor with real people gossiping. I experienced the odd feeling of wanting to get up and intervene in the production unfolding before me.

Though the plot by itself might not have been enough to hold my interest, by drawing the viewer into the play itself, the production creates a thoroughly enjoyable experience.