Our time is passing. The days fall like leaves from a tree. Outside, the storm pushing large waves in the lake and blows the curtain of the old summer stage. Inside, they sit on chairs, and mourn the loss of your life. The love that does not succeed, does not want to be reciprocated. The clumsy teacher loves the alcoholic Masha. The deified the budding artist Constantine, who, in turn, loves Nina, the beautiful daughter of a wealthy landowner, while the success of writer Eyes of the revered, in turn, to the actress Irina is bound. In addition, the doctor still has a Liaison with the wife of the estate Manager age, and also the sick of the house feels for the beauty of the youth attracted. All the love, but no one lives.

In Chekhov’s “Seagull” is about a mood of infinite futility. Almost not a sentence that does not Express in any way a disappointment, loneliness, and Regret. “I’m a man who wanted to”, says Sorin (without illusion: René Dumont), has twenty-eight spent years as a civil servant, but actually wanted to become an artist. Now he sits in his wheelchair and from the doctor’s taunt. He is actually the most tragic figure of all, because while the other dreams, at least, and lawsuits, is with him from the beginning all over. In Alvis Hermanis’s staging, he keeps that relationship rich right at the beginning of a pistol to his temple.

“Well, how’s the mood?”

with the squeaky doors, the protagonists occur, and there will be a theatre show, Constantine has written for his dear Nina a monologue. But his mother, the famous actress from Moscow, and the assembled guests, have only ridicule for the pompous symbolism of the young striker left. Constantine, storm hurt, and Nina, the beautiful, Innocent, learns the success of writer Eyes. Actually, an intimate soul now begins the exchange between the two, talk to the celebrated author with her honest doubter like no other. You, the aspiring actress, hanging on his lips and seduce him with your Wonder. He calls them “the Seagull” and first keywords to write for a narrative in the Block: “a Young girl is on a lake. Free as a Seagull.

a Random man comes to the lake, sees the girl, and destroyed it. Only in this way. For no particular reason.“ There are between the two in Chekhov, a cutting end close. It is not felt at Hermanis in Munich. The writer, Michele Cuciuffo, is a harmless simple person, nothing to stir properly. With a clear passion he lifts Nina on the knee and console her with the index finger in the neck.