Brian Friel's play, The Yalta Game, is based on a short story by Anton Chekhov, The Lady with the Lapdog, that tells of a holiday affair between an older married man and a young married woman while they are both on holiday alone. Their brief encounter haunts and affects their lives when they return home so much that they meet again to begin another life of lies and deceit on the inevitably fatal path of love.
In front of the long cinemascope-size screen, 10 white chairs are set randomly on the stark stage while the sound of a military fanfare by the Hussars' band is air conducted by the relaxed and confident man in the cream linen suit, who is clearly bien dans sa peau.
A Russian flaneur, at least while on holiday away from his family, he shares the joys of what he calls the Yalta Game with the audience: that delicious observation of one's fellow human beings as they promenade, watching and being watched.
Friel's magic in releasing an internal dialogue to the public, allows you to almost see the gossiping cafe society of Yalta and all the fascinating human interaction within it. Gurov's wit and great patter, and fascination with folk's idiosyncrasies is novel to the "infant Anna", as she is known to her municipal council employed husband Nikolai. It is no wonder she becomes his "companion in adventure", enjoying the intimacy of sharing and ultimately creating gossip of their own, joining in and being part of the Yalta Game.
Once back home, what is real and what is imagined becomes blurred in both their minds as obsession with the other takes over. Reality shifts to fiction as her days are sustained with fantasy rehearsals of meeting with Gurov. The stark reality of his appearance and presence initially shocks, but leads to their starting the double living where deceits and authenticities "bleed" into each other and like the Autumn parting of their Summer affair has an inevitable, sorrowful end.
While the words of the piece show there to be no doubt of the couple's passion, the only overt intimacy is in the closing scene. Their sadness is at once imagined and real, like a theme of the play itself, as their last lingering kiss is accompanied by the sound of the Hussars' band, punctuating the play like parenthesis.
This is a fine performance by Risteárd Cooper and Rebecca O'Mara. This is essential theatre in every sense of the word. In the words of Brian Friel, "...theatre fulfils itself again."
Times: 29 & 30 August and 1 September at 9pm; 4 & 5 September, 2pm