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A review by leic01
The Three Sisters by Anton Chekhov
5.0
"And, restless, seeks the stormy ocean, as though in tempest there were peace."
I feel this is an amazing play that stunningly portraits existential crisis inevitable in the life of every person who thinks of life in a deeper way.
TUZENBAKH: You think it's no use even dreaming of happiness! But what if I'm happy?
VERSHININ: No, you're not.
MASHA: Gogol says: it's dull living in this world, friends!
I really liked the exploration of themes of transience and the meaning of life (found in work, ambition, dreams of living in a different place and future) and our importance in the universe that can be found in each character in a different way. My favorite character by far was Vershinin, the deliverance of his thoughts and philosophy was brilliant.
VERSHININ: Yes. They'll forget us. Such is our fate, there is no help for it. What seems to us serious, significant, very important, will one day be forgotten or will seem unimportant [a pause]. And it's curious that we can't possibly tell what exactly will be considered great and important, and what will seem petty and ridiculous.
I could relate to the restlessness of the human soul so much, and sense of balancing between the pressure of wasting life and realization of the unimportance of everything we do on a larger scale. Do we use our work and hope in a better future in day to day as a defense mechanism from almost unbearable feelings of meaningless of life? And, more importantly, are they efficient enough? When do forget our big dreams and settle down with mediocrity and small-mindedness, and do we really ever settle down? Does society kill our individuality and uniqueness?
VERSHININ: Let's suppose that of the hundred thousand people living in this town, which is, of course, uncultured and behind the times, there are only three of your sort. It goes without saying that you cannot conquer the mass of darkness round you; little by little, as you go on living, you'll be lost in the crowd. You'll have to give in to it. Life will get the better of you, but still you'll not disappear without a trace. After you there may appear perhaps six like you, then twelve and so on until such as you form a majority. In two or three hundred years, life on earth will be unimaginably beautiful, marvellous. Man needs such a life and, though he hasn't got it yet, he must have a presentiment of it, expect it, dream of it, prepare for it; for that he must see and know more than his father and grandfather.
VERSHININ: If one listens to a man of the educated class here, civilian or military, he's worried to death by his wife, worried to death by his house, worried to death by his estate, worried to death by his horses. . . . A Russian is peculiarly given to exalted ideas, but why is it he always falls so short in life? Why?
Not the most imaginative plot, but the questions that this play opened, were for me deeply moving and brilliant but the ones that nobody can give answers to. A lot of great quotes to think about and get either inspired to do something in your life or get really depressed.
ANDREY: Oh, where is it all gone? What's become of my past, when I was young, happy, and clever, when my dreams and thoughts were exquisite, when my present and my past were lighted up by hope? Why on the very threshold of life do we become dull, drab, uninteresting, lazy, indifferent, useless, unhappy? . . . Our town has been in existence for two hundred years -- there are a hundred thousand people living in it; and there's not one who's not like the rest, not one saint in the past, or the present, not one man of learning, not one artist, not one man in the least remarkable who could inspire envy or a passionate desire to imitate him. . . . They only eat, drink, sleep, and then die . . . others are born, and they also eat and drink and sleep, and not to be bored to stupefaction they vary their lives by nasty gossip, vodka, cards, litigation; and the wives deceive their husbands, and the husbands tell lies and pretend that they see and hear nothing, and an overwhelmingly vulgar influence crushes the children, and the divine spark is quenched in them and they become the same sort of pitiful, dead creatures, all exactly alike, as their fathers and mothers. . . .
Recommended for all lovers of existentialism and nihilism.
I feel this is an amazing play that stunningly portraits existential crisis inevitable in the life of every person who thinks of life in a deeper way.
TUZENBAKH: You think it's no use even dreaming of happiness! But what if I'm happy?
VERSHININ: No, you're not.
MASHA: Gogol says: it's dull living in this world, friends!
I really liked the exploration of themes of transience and the meaning of life (found in work, ambition, dreams of living in a different place and future) and our importance in the universe that can be found in each character in a different way. My favorite character by far was Vershinin, the deliverance of his thoughts and philosophy was brilliant.
VERSHININ: Yes. They'll forget us. Such is our fate, there is no help for it. What seems to us serious, significant, very important, will one day be forgotten or will seem unimportant [a pause]. And it's curious that we can't possibly tell what exactly will be considered great and important, and what will seem petty and ridiculous.
I could relate to the restlessness of the human soul so much, and sense of balancing between the pressure of wasting life and realization of the unimportance of everything we do on a larger scale. Do we use our work and hope in a better future in day to day as a defense mechanism from almost unbearable feelings of meaningless of life? And, more importantly, are they efficient enough? When do forget our big dreams and settle down with mediocrity and small-mindedness, and do we really ever settle down? Does society kill our individuality and uniqueness?
VERSHININ: Let's suppose that of the hundred thousand people living in this town, which is, of course, uncultured and behind the times, there are only three of your sort. It goes without saying that you cannot conquer the mass of darkness round you; little by little, as you go on living, you'll be lost in the crowd. You'll have to give in to it. Life will get the better of you, but still you'll not disappear without a trace. After you there may appear perhaps six like you, then twelve and so on until such as you form a majority. In two or three hundred years, life on earth will be unimaginably beautiful, marvellous. Man needs such a life and, though he hasn't got it yet, he must have a presentiment of it, expect it, dream of it, prepare for it; for that he must see and know more than his father and grandfather.
VERSHININ: If one listens to a man of the educated class here, civilian or military, he's worried to death by his wife, worried to death by his house, worried to death by his estate, worried to death by his horses. . . . A Russian is peculiarly given to exalted ideas, but why is it he always falls so short in life? Why?
Not the most imaginative plot, but the questions that this play opened, were for me deeply moving and brilliant but the ones that nobody can give answers to. A lot of great quotes to think about and get either inspired to do something in your life or get really depressed.
ANDREY: Oh, where is it all gone? What's become of my past, when I was young, happy, and clever, when my dreams and thoughts were exquisite, when my present and my past were lighted up by hope? Why on the very threshold of life do we become dull, drab, uninteresting, lazy, indifferent, useless, unhappy? . . . Our town has been in existence for two hundred years -- there are a hundred thousand people living in it; and there's not one who's not like the rest, not one saint in the past, or the present, not one man of learning, not one artist, not one man in the least remarkable who could inspire envy or a passionate desire to imitate him. . . . They only eat, drink, sleep, and then die . . . others are born, and they also eat and drink and sleep, and not to be bored to stupefaction they vary their lives by nasty gossip, vodka, cards, litigation; and the wives deceive their husbands, and the husbands tell lies and pretend that they see and hear nothing, and an overwhelmingly vulgar influence crushes the children, and the divine spark is quenched in them and they become the same sort of pitiful, dead creatures, all exactly alike, as their fathers and mothers. . . .
Recommended for all lovers of existentialism and nihilism.