Anton Chekhov’s The Seagull was an astounding achievement when it premiered in Moscow in 1898, directed by 35-year-old Konstantin Stanislavski for the fledgling Moscow Art Theatre. The nuance and sublimity of the play enabled something new, a paradigm shift in directing and production that was the prototype of modern theatrical staging.

The first of his four great plays, Chekhov combined the sparkling, variegated surface of naturalist dialogue and activity with the moving currents of complex character and motivation, and he added to that a depth of theme and meaning underlying it all. Early audiences marveled, like the play’s characters do at the mysterious lake before them.

The Seagull is filled with such life, such glimmering intelligence… and stupidity. Chekhov’s characters feel alive, responsive, and surprisingly spontaneous. Everyone’s in love, but always with someone they can’t have or can’t keep. Thematically, it’s a study of the arts and the artist, the lack of real satisfaction to be found there, the pretense and mediocrity that pervade the practice, and yet the power and mystery that are possible. The Seagull stands historically, legendarily, as a realization of that possibility.