Joel Joan overcomes the great challenge

Joel Joan was crying. He was crying as he said goodbye. Tears brought on, we don't know, by Sonia's final monologue about boundless resilience and faith in the afterlife, or by the emotional release he felt after an hour and a half journey with the eight characters of Uncle Vanya by Chekhov.

The work of the British playwright Simon Stephens (The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time, A distant song) is a rewriting of the classic Uncle Vanya for a single actor. It premiered to great success in London in 2023, starring Andrew Scott. The piece presents a tour de forceAn interpretive challenge that Joel Joan overcomes with flying colors, thanks to Joan Sellent's fluid translation and Nelson Valente's meticulous direction. An interpretive challenge resolved with subtle, identifying gestures, vocal inflections, and the handling of a prop that defines and distinguishes each character. All of this demands enormous precision in movement and attitude, from which Joel Joan never deviates an inch.

An interpretive challenge somewhat comparable to that harrowingThe most beautiful body ever found on this site by Josep Maria Miró (Teatre Romea, 2024), where a sensational Pere Arquillué played all seven characters without moving from his seat. This Vania It's lighter, less dramatic, but also, as we said, very well acted.

Stephens' version moves away from the rural Russia of the last century with no more updates than replacing the vodka in which the doctor Mikhail Lvovich Astrov (here, Miquel) drowns his sadness with wine and cognac; turning the art expert Professor Serebriakov (here, Alejandro) into an unemployed screenwriter and film director; and, above all, adding more humor than in the original, which was reserved for the ruined landowner Telegin (here, Saúl). This humor, in Valente's staging, conceived as a rehearsal on a set under construction, reinforces the actor's histrionics with the characters' mannerisms and gestures.

We have, then, Vanya's boastful entrance with removable sunglasses, very fitting for the dialogue; The exaggerated and flamboyant Alexander, who reminded me of the perpetually grumpy Pantalone from the Commedia dell'Arte; Helena's pose, which made me think of Betty Boop; and Sonia's gesture, clutching a dishcloth with the shyness of a teenage girl. From Chekhov, we retain the plot, the characters, the monologues, and a reduction of dialogue in a production more focused on comedy, but which, curiously, does breathe something of the Chekhovian spirit in its silences. A highly recommended performance, although it's easy to predict how those unfamiliar with the original will receive it.