Chekhov's First Play

Miley Cyrus was born in Franklin, Tennessee, on 23rd November 1992, to parents Billy Ray and Letitia Jean Cyrus. She was originally named Destiny Hope Cyrus, as her parents believed that she would [[accomplish great things.]]

As an child she gained the nickname 'Smiley', which was soon shortened to Miley. In 2008, she legally changed her name to Miley Ray Cyrus. The 'Ray' honours her paternal grandfather, Ronald Ray Cyrus, who was in the US Air Force, before working in the steel industry and [[going into local politics.]]

In 2006, when Miley was 11 years old, she won the lead in a new show for the Disney Channel, //Hannah Montana//. Miley's character led a double-life, juggling her regular teenage world with life as [[an international pop star.]]

After a couple of years focusing on acting, in 2013 Miley hired a new manager (Larry Rudolph) and moved to a new record label (RCA). Her fourth studio album, //Bangerz//, was released in October. She continued to collaborate with other artists during this time, including Snoop Lion, the rapper who had recently discovered rastafarianism, changing his name from Snoop Dogg and taking a new, reggae direction. [[Turn on commentary.<-Go to commentary.]] [[Continue with the review.<-Continue without commentary.]]

Hi. My name is Meg. I am the author of this interactive review of Dead Centre's new show, //Chekhov's First Play//, which premiered at Dublin Theatre Festival at the end of September. You're probably wondering why I'm telling you all this stuff about Miley Cyrus. Miley doesn't appear in //Chekhov's First Play//, but I think that with complex, multi-strand works like this, it's important to give the reader some useful cultural analogies that they can use to draw out [[the themes and intentions of the work.]]

Miley Cyrus is a useful example to start with as her life and career have already moved through several phases. Her name has adapted with her, as has Snoop Dogg/Lion's. Destiny Hope became Smiley, then Miley, then Hannah Montana, then [[back to Miley.]]

Chekhov was no different. After having a go at playwriting as a young man, he spent a fruitful period working on short stories, before returning to the dramatic form to write the plays he is known for today: //Uncle Vanya//, //The Seagull//, //Ivanov//, //Three Sisters//, //The Cherry Orchard//. He also had a parallel career as a doctor, which he considered his primary profession even when his stories and plays received great acclaim. He made little money from this work though, as he often [[treated the poor for free.]]

At the VMAs in 2013, shortly before the release of Wrecking Ball, the second single from //Bangerz//, Miley was joined onstage by Robin Thicke and the two performed his controversial hit Blurred Lines. She danced with Thicke in plastic pants and a giant foam hand, and brought 'twerking' [[to the attention of Middle America.]]

If, as a modern female in a patriarchal world, Miley Cyrus's career can be considered a single work - a narrative journey for her audiences to enjoy, admire, interpret, empathise with - then her 2013 VMAs performance was a significant plot point; an action from which there was no return. [[Go to Meg's commentary.<-Go to commentary.]] Or [[continue.]]

I have to admit, reader, that I do feel a bit conflicted about using Miley's career as a way-in to my Dead Centre review when we get to this bit. In the days and weeks following her performance with Robin Thicke, we witnessed the male gaze at its most self-righteous, its most dick-swinging. Miley was judged to have been debased. In turn, she was immoral, corrupting. She was simultaneously too stupid to know better, and an evil harlot who was masterminding [[the fall of all sexual boundaries.]]

Her performance with Thicke reached more people, and faster, than anything she had done as Hannah Montana, despite that show having become the most viewed on US cable back in 2007. Her twerking entered the public consciousness through its subsequent thinkpieces and conservative backlash as much as the act itself, but either way, Miley was forever changed in the perception of her audience. It must've been tough to know what [[to follow that with...]]

Dublin-based theatremakers Dead Centre are not pop superstars like Miley Cyrus, obviously. Their last show, //Lippy//, was an international hit though, touring to New York, London and Germany after Dublin. This one, //Chekhov's First Play//, feels like a natural follow-up to //Lippy//. It's a level-up in some ways, such as the ambition with which they embrace tech and design elements, the number of cinematic and theatrical references they bring in, and the unexpected darkness that glistens behind all [[their knowing humour.]]

I should apologise for the clunky shift between my Mileychat preamble and introduction to Dead Centre just then. I'd actually written a whole frame of this review to go in between, all about the video for Wrecking Ball that Miley released shortly after that VMAs performance and how pleased I was that she never apologised for being too provocative or whatever (remember Janet Jackson's "wardrobe malfunction" at the Superbowl that time?) but... I decided to cut it. [[Continue menu<-Continue.]]

Hearing about a show that supposedly reimagines theatre's relationship with its audience has become a bit tiresome in recent years, but Dead Centre have bypassed many of those contemporary clichés with //Chekhov's First Play//. Often referred to by the name of its enigmatic protagonist Platonov, the original text has been called "a conversation piece" by some scholars, something that bubbles to the surface of this version in so many places. It's not one conversation; it's many. [[Commentary 4<-Go to commentary.]] [["a conversation piece"<-Continue without commentary.]]

It's not a great schism in the strands and themes of Dead Centre's work to date; it's a continuation of the way they interrogate their source material, and the audience's relationship to it. [[Commentary 3<-Go to commentary.]] [[Continue menu<-Continue without commentary.]]

It is a conversation between [[the production and its audience.<-the theatre and its audience.]] It is a conversation between [[the text and its production.<-the past text and its present production.]] It is a conversation about [[Platonov and Chekhov's later work.<-the language of Chekhov, and how we can speak it.]]

As an interesting aside, //Platonov// has also been known by several different names, just like Miley. The original Russian roughly translates as //Fatherlessness//, although it was first produced in Germany, where it was given the title //Der Unnützige Mensch Platonoff//, meaning [["that worthless fellow Platonov".]]

I NEVER MEANT TO START A WAR I JUST WANTED YOU TO LET ME IN AND INSTEAD OF USING FORCE [[I GUESS I SHOULD HAVE LET YOU WIN]]

Shortly after the 2013 VMAs, Robin Thicke was interviewed by Oprah about his performance with Miley. It was a difficult time for him in many ways. Although Blurred Lines had become one of the biggest-selling singles of all time, shifting 14.8 million copies and reaching the largest radio audience ever, the song's lyrics had been widely condemned for [[promoting date rape.]]

Chekhov's pretty good, right? Like, you lot like him a lot, [[don't you?]]

Here's something interesting for you: In The Guardian last year, when [[Simon McBurney]] interviewed Thomas Ostermeier about his production of Ibsen's //Enemy of the People//, he said: "I never wanted to do this play, I found the characters too one dimensional, but I have had it on the list for a long time, and it came up at weekly meetings with my collaborators, the dramaturgs. All very smart guys, [[unlike me."]]

Hang on. [[Fuck.]]

This isn't the way this bit is [[supposed to go.]]

In 1999, the wrecking ball was described as "one of the most common forms of large-scale coarse demolition." Although the wrecking ball is still the most efficient way to raze a concrete frame structure, its use is decreasing. With the invention of hydraulic excavators and other machinery, the wrecking ball has become less common at demolition sites as its working efficiency is less than that of [[high reach excavators.]]

That's better. Thanks for bearing with me. So, we're talking about how //Chekhov's First Play// is a conversation between the past and the present. That's probably [[a little disingenous though.]]

It not only gives us an insight into the political and economic climate that Chekhov was writing in, but it explains the relevance of the story's themes to an audience watching in post-2008 Ireland. The psychological weight of debt crosses the globe as it does the years. Likewise, the pressure to succeed, [[whatever that may mean.]]

It's through this commentary that we glimpse Moukarzel's own benchmarks for success, and neither he nor his actors are meeting them. One keeps fucking up his pronunciation, another skips several pages of the text and the recovery is fumbled. The creative vision begins to [[break down]].

To the two of you still reading this: Don't worry, [[it's nearly over.]]

When Oprah asked Robin Thicke if he was aware that Miley was going to perform a provocative dance move on stage, this is what he said: “So to me, I’m walking out toward Miley, I’m not thinking sex, I’m thinking fun … I’m singing my butt off. I’m singing and I’m looking at the sky and I’m singing and I’m not really paying attention to all that. [[That’s on her.]]”

You can believe this claim if you like (Miley doesn't: "You were in rehearsals! You knew exactly what was going to happen"), but the important thing to take from this quote is Thicke's positioning of himself as an [[innocent guest performer on the depraved Miley show.]]

I think surprise is one of the most brilliant reactions you can have to piece of art, and it's an increasingly rare thing. //Chekhov's First Play// has closed in Dublin now, but it'll appear elsewhere no doubt, so if you want to avoid hearing about one particular theatrical device used in the show, you can [[Back to it.<-skip forward now]] or [["a conversation piece"<-turn back to read more about the 'conversations'.]] Otherwise, [[Guest performer spoiler<-let's go.]]

Each night before the show, Dead Centre recruit a guest performer from the gathering audience. This will be the famous Platonov, the charismatic protagonist whose arrival on stage is much anticipated throughout the first act. An academic who has become disillusioned with society and its machinations, Platonov is married and a drinker, yet several of the other characters still [[fall in love with him.]]

Unlike in Tim Crouch's //An Oak Tree//, which uses a professional actor as guest performer, or in the recent show by Louise Orwin, //A Girl and A Gun//, which recruits in advance and introduces each night's guest at the start, in //Chekhov's First Play// they are separated from the herd after some time has passed. This somehow makes them seem more of an audience representative than in those shows. We've already been united as one big gang before anyone has to do anything. [[anyone has to do anything.<-They are one of us.]]

If it was me, I would've been far too busy gawping at the fucking unbelievable things I was seeing to even register what I was being asked to do. It did make me wonder if he was a performer to be honest. I don't mean for Dead Centre (I don't think we were being conned about him being a regular audience member) but he had very good eyebrows. One of those actory faces, y'know? [[Trustworthy.]]

So he was up there, totally chilled, while all around him were consumed in fog and noise and blood and darkness. On one hand he had relinquished control, but on another his participation was an emblem of support. He was the audience's appointed official. He could have staged a protest and refused to go any further, [[but he didn't.]]

The night I saw it, the guy who was chosen performed without much emotional response at all. He was brilliantly deadpan. [[guest performer commentary 2<-Go to commentary.]] [[guest performer conversation<-Continue without commentary.]]

The whole thing was kept afloat by his wish for the work to succeed outweighing any embarrassment or discomfort or ethical quandary he found himself in. Think on, Robin Thicke. [[Think on.]]

Snoop was actually born Calvin Cordozar Broadus Junior, and he adopted the name Snoop Doggy Dogg before shortening it to Snoop Dogg, and then Snoop Lion. For his most recent studio album, //Bush//, he has returned to Snoop Dogg again. Really though, the names here are irrelevant. I'm just using them here as indicators of the way in which artists adopt influences, [[develop and evolve.]]

He was Treasurer of one of America's most active trade unions (the AFL-CIO), which currently represents over 12 million active and retired industrial workers. Miley's father also has Ray as a middle name. His career has spanned [[singing, songwriting, and acting.]]

As well as acting in the show, Miley performed as her alter-ego in concert, and 8 of the 9 songs on the show's first soundtrack album were officially credited to Hannah Montana. The show ended, and the character finally retired, [[in January 2011.]]

So you see, the phases and strands of an artist's career can be distinct and clearly delineated, or they can all run alongside one another in a big mash-mash of tasks and responsibilities. Just a bit of context for you there. Now, let's [[Continue with the review.<-continue with the review.]]

Miley had already moved away from her image as a wholesome child star by this point (her short blonde haircut and tongue-out posing were mocked by the awards' presenters immediately prior to her performance with Thicke), but the moment that she bent over and bounced her arse in Thicke's crotch can be identified as the moment that Miley's place in the public's consciousness [[changed for good.]]

It was rare to hear a voice that celebrated a confident, talented, beautiful woman enjoying herself and her body without giving a fuck about outdated cultural expectations of femininity. But, for the purposes of this review, you should know that I am 100% pro Miley's twerking. Now, let's [[continue.]]

In America it first appeared as //A Country Scandal//, while British playwright Michael Frayn has adapted it as //Wild Honey//. A Russian film version from 1977 was released in the west as //An Unfinished Piece for Mechanical Piano// which Trevor Griffiths then adapted for the National Theatre in 1990, calling it simply [[Piano<-//Piano//.]]

And now Dead Centre have gone for the Ronseal version: //Chekhov's First Play//. It goes to show that its not just an artist who develops; individual works do too. Anyways, [["a conversation piece"<-back to it.]]

Meanwhile, the family of Marvin Gaye were mounting a legal case (ultimately successful) to prove that Thicke and his collaborators (Pharrell and T.I.) had ripped off Gaye's 1977 tune Got To Give Up. Poor old Robin Thicke was fighting a PR battle on several sides, which the sympathetic amongst us may consider a fair excuse for [[throwing Miley under a bus.]]

If we're talking about //Chekhov's First Play// in terms of the conversations it has, then we need to talk about one's ability to remain a bystander (if, indeed, that is possible) and also how we, as individuals, can participate in conversations collectively. [[Commentary guest performer<-Turn on spoiler warnings.]] [[Guest performer spoiler<-Continue without spoiler warnings.]]

Whoever takes this role is unaware of what they will be asked to do. They simply follow instructions sent to their headphones. Yes, they are hugged and held, made to dance, hooked up to a drip, manoeuvred around the space by an increasingly naked cast. But this is no [[Robin Thicke "that's on her" bullshit.]]

But really it was his stone cold concentration that made me think he knew what he was doing on a stage. Like that time I saw Gob Squad recently and one of the guys picked to go on stage was Ivo van Hove's regular UK assistant director and another was an actor and movement director that I know through work. They were just naturals. Totally unfazed. [[Don't suppose I'll ever know now.]]

If you're reading this, good eyebrow guy, from the show on 30th September, get in touch and put me out of my misery. [[guest performer conversation<-Anyway, we should carry on...]]

I trust you guys. If he's alright by you, he's alright by me. I'm sure I'll make up my own mind at some point, but up till now I've only seen The Cherry Orchard in any recognisable form, and even that was [[a modern adaptation.]]

Even without ever having really heard his words, I have started to grasp the 'language' of Chekhov: property, money, class, social change. He writes about economics as an almost physical force. Wealth is wielded like a jackhammer. Debt swings overhead like steel. [[Other plays commentary<-Go to commentary.]] [[Motifs of other plays<-Continue without commentary.]]

I'm on shaky ground here. Need to steer this bit away from all the 'thematic language' business before you realise that I don't know what the fuck I'm talking about. Honestly? Everything I know about Chekhov I learnt from that play Dan Rebellato wrote in, like, 2010 or something, //Chekhov in Hell//, and that was mainly sketch comedy about people [[tweeting their lunch.]]

Big topics, big problems, big feelings. Likewise, the story that emerges from //Chekhov's First Play// has a certain weight to it. There are light-hearted moments, yes, but for the characters everything is, actually, really quite important, and they battle on [[amongst the madness.]]

There was a really moving bit though. And, actually, this might be quite interesting after all. A running joke in Rebellato's play is the fact that Chekhov's English is a bit shit, and since he's woken up in contemporary London, that causes all sorts of #lulz. Pretty much every aspect of modern urban living sounds completely fucking ridiculous if you're a [[dead Russian playwright from 19-oh-whatever.]]

So poor Chekhov is stumbling around London, all this crazy stuff unexpectedly in his bagging area, and he eventually finds himself in a brothel which is, natch, staffed by Eastern Europeans. At last he can speak in his mother tongue, try to work out what is what in this new, horrifying world. I can't remember exactly, but I think he just asks something simple, like... [["what happened?"]]

And the sex worker tells him, in Russian, no surtitles, about everything that has happened since he died. Wars and bombs and famine and genocide and millions upon millions of untimely and unnecessary deaths. As she talks he becomes more and more sombre. He goes from this hilarious madcap old bastard that everyone inexplicably loves, to just a crumpled, heartbroken old man. And her words are peppered with this one phrase, repeated over and over again, that we can't really understand, but we know that it means [["great horror, great misery".]]

So I guess what I'm trying to say is that theatre gives us language-language, but it also gives us emotional-language, and the two are related but not necessarily co-dependent. We should get back to the main review now though. Any minute now I'm going to make [[Motifs of other plays<-an entirely inconsequential observation about a seagull.]]

I've seen two Uncle Vanyas in German (one with chickens, one with a man on a bungee chord), an Ivanov (also in German) which was performed entirely in smoke, and my first Cherry Orchard, years ago, was staged in an old department store in Brighton. One whole floor was given over to sales assistants trying to flog me different kinds of birdsong in unfamiliar European languages. [[There is a theme developing here.]]

There's one bit where a dead seagull drops onto the stage, like BAM. Now, I don't know what happens in //The Seagull//, but the very fact that Chekhov wrote a play about one means that I get that joke. It's like a witty aside, or a really accessible easter egg. [[Easter egg commentary<-Go to commentary.]] [[chekhov's characters would think<-Continue without commentary.]]

If you don't know, an easter egg is an intentional inside joke, hidden message, or feature in an interactive work such as a computer programme, video game or DVD menu screen. The name has been said to evoke the idea of [[a traditional Easter egg hunt.<-a traditional easter egg hunt.]]

The cast were probably rolling their eyes though. Like, "Oh, they want to drop a dead seagull in now, do they? Bunch of fucking clever dicks." On the phone to their agents [[three times a day.]]

Hats off to them, acting their way through that without ever forgetting the gravitas (yeah I said gravitas) of the subject matter, all those big Chekhovian themes. I suppose there's always that risk with weird, highly-visual theatre; every effect you add will carve a chunk out of the writing, or the performances. Personally, I love that tension, [[the push-and-pull of it.]]

And I liked the seagull gag, and the other bit with the cherry tree. [[Or did I imagine that...?]]

Basically, it felt a little bit like, for those who don't have a really comprehensive knowledge of the minutiae of Chekhov's work, those uncomplicated visual gags would either be missed completely (fair enough, we don't have to get everything) or their uncomplicated nature would be a distraction from the big stuff. I felt that with the seagull I think. It's like I was concentrating so much on crossing it off my Chekhov bingo card that I can't easily slot it into the rest of the show, the Chekhov-in-macro. [[seagull commentary<-Go to commentary.]] [[end of seagull<-Continue without commentary.]]

I know, I know... I'm getting all worked up about this seagull thing and losing sight of the bigger picture. BUT THAT IS BASICALLY MY ENTIRE POINT ABOUT [[THE FUCKING SEAGULL.]]

I'm really interested in the way the humanity of Chekhov's plays translates pretty effortlessly through time and across borders and in different languages and then sometimes with chickens and bungee cranes and clowns emerging from clouds of smoke. Or members of the audience walking onstage in headphones, doing a dance routine and getting hooked up to a red wine drip. Patting myself on the back for getting a specific reference to another of his plays feels pretty insignificant compared to that stuff. [[Back to it.<-Onwards.]] Or, let's go back to read about some of the [["a conversation piece"<-other 'conversations' in the show.]]

Oh but it WAS good though. I mean, it's 100% right that there are all these entangled references to Chekhov's other work in this play. I'm sure there were about 50 others that I missed. Maybe it was the falling-from-the-sky thing that [[I'm actually concerned about here.]]

Yeah, maybe that's it. Okay, so forget everything I just said about the 'macro' of Chekhov and all that. [[I've got it.]]

The point I actually want to make here is that I am a massive wanker, and I have an issue with the seagull being too OBVIOUS a reference to another of Chekhov's works, because it's the name of the fucking play or whatever. I just phoned my therapist and she told me that I am being difficult purely because I like things to be difficult. I didn't like the arrival of the seagull for the same reason that I wouldn't have liked it if a dude had suddenly walked in wearing a t-shirt printed with [[HELLO I AM UNCLE VANYA, HOW DO YOU DO]]

Furthermore, the fact that the seagull dropped in suddenly from above felt like the most obvious reference of the play was compounded by the most obvious entrance device. Lots of stuff is being dropped from above in theatres all over the place at the moment. Which is fine. But are we dropping stuff from above because it looks cool and can give people a bit of a shock, or because that really is the best way for our thing/collection of things [[to appear?]]

Sorry everyone. I'm over-thinking this. Let's return to my [[end of seagull<-thread about that seagull]], which I promise I'll wrap up super-quickly and put us all out of our misery.

This practice is similar in some respects to hidden signature motifs such as Diego Rivera's inclusion of himself in his murals, Alfred Hitchcock's cameo appearances, Fritz's appearances in the works of Chris van Allsburg, and various "Hidden Mickeys" that can be found throughout the Disney Parks. [[chekhov's characters would think<-Return to review.]]

Dunno mate, never heard of 'im. [[the past and the future.<-Go back.]]

“You cannot wait any longer to do this play!” they had told him. To which Ostermeier replied: “Yah, but its not that good… [[it’s too simple.]]”

And the dramaturgs said: "Now is the time to do it." [[So Ostermeier did it.]]

Ffs. Sorry everyone. I'm still getting used to the Twine software and sometimes it just goes a bit off-piste. Let's [[switch to commentary for a min<-skip on, see if it fixes itself.]]

Here, though, the translation between story and meaning is made even more visible (or, I suppose, audible), thanks to an absolutely fucking genius conceit: The show's co-creator, Bush Mouzarkel, provides a director's commentary for the audience [[the translation between the two.<-through headphones.]]

In another show, Moukarzel's audible breakdown might be a derivative attempt to expose the workings of the theatre, but here it becomes a comment on a much more pervasive issue: individual autonomy and the impossibility of total control. Right then. [[Back to it.]] Or, return to read about some of the [["a conversation piece"<-other 'conversations' in the show.]]

He did it with live Bowie covers, paint bombs, and a public debate in which the audience were invited to participate. Celebrated for his 'capitalist realism' style of theatre-making, Ostermeier challenges his audiences to face the brutal contradictions of a world [[driven by profit.]]

It's stupidity as an affliction; as a physical ailment, or as a weapon that tears through the worlds he presents on stage. For Ostermeier, the quality of the writing (or not) isn't what matters at all. (Theatre is fucking great, innit?) [[post-Ostermeier commentary<-Return to review.]]

At the same time, the rest of us remained spectators, which had another strange effect. Rationally, watching this guy on stage, in the middle of this beautiful, illogical scene, should feel like watching any other actor. We couldn't hear the instructions he was following, so his actions were as unexpected as [[those of the main cast.]]

And yet, if we had indeed been united into an audience-as-gang in the first half of the show, then there's something about watching one of your comrades up there that feels like watching a different version of yourself, or one of your limbs, severed and stumbling about. In the very last seconds, I felt something like pride. Sorry, I'm getting all wanky again. [[Back to it.<-Let's continue.]] Or, go back to read about some of the [["a conversation piece"<-other 'conversations' in the show.]]

I mean, in many ways, every show ever is an example of a dialogue between the text and the particular time and environment it finds itself produced in. It doesn't have to be a complete Hytner-style relocation to a modern war zone, or an Anya Reiss adaptation where every single word or scene has been transposed to a contemporary alternative. [[the past and the future.<-Go to commentary.]] [[post-Ostermeier commentary<-Continue without commentary.]]

By the end, everyone is either depressed or exasperated or simply exhausted by the effort of just living. You get the impression that none of them would be surprised if they were suddenly gunged. It's like an episode of Takeshi's Castle up there. All sorts of shit being [[really fuck them off actually.<-chucked at them.]]

I'm going to wrap up briefly, by returning to our starting point: Miley Cyrus. She really interests me, as many enormo-famous performers have done in the past, and no doubt will do again. Something about the constant reinvention that the modern media demands of its (female) pop stars is both terrible and fantastic at the same time. I sometimes think that a complete Doctor Who-style regeneration might be the only way to [[keep us sated.]]

It's difficult to know for certain how much control Miley Cyrus has over her career and her public image. I really want to think that it was entirely her choice to twerk at the VMAs and that that was a choice made free from any outside pressures; [[direct or indirect, social or economic.]]

Theatre is also driven by reinvention. Every different version of a text that we see, every translation, every new adaptation that is written: there is reinvention at the heart of it all. In //Chekhov's First Play//, Dead Centre reinvent more than most. It's not just a specific production of an old play, but the repositioning of that work in a portfolio of others. It doesn't just tell its audience a story, it critiques it for them too; [[it makes up a new story as it goes.]]

There comes a moment where the story of //Platonov// is breached, felled. Soon afterwards, the control of its cast and creative team are thrown into question. Outsiders are brought in and the characters' desperation seeps out. (Or is it the actors who are desperate? [[Or the director?]])

Like Miley and her twerking, there will be no reset button for Anna and Sofia (nor for Bush Mouzarkel); no way to return to a languid country garden; no way to dial back time; no way to start again at the beginning. They must make of their situation what they can. The show they have created has been [[reinvented around them.]]

For Dead Centre, //Chekhov's First Play// is not a reinvention, but a step further. Which means they are one step closer to their public demanding more, bigger, darker, louder, fierier. When you completely dismantle the works of Anton Chekhov with your third proper show - demolish him, set him alight, strip him of his tweeds and break his legs with a lump hammer - how the fuck are you supposed to follow that? ---- [[Go to commentary.]]

So, I've been learning a lot about Twine while making this review. It's only the second time I've ever used it. Do you like my background colour? It's called a C.S.S. HEXADECIMAL COLOUR CODE y'know. I learnt it off Google. I tried to make the links change colour as well but turns out the background colour is [[the current limit of my abilities there.<-the current limit of my abilities.]]

I also tried to work out how to show actual star symbols, so I could subject //Chekhov's First Play// to the traditionally myopic value-based scoring system that our beloved industry is so wedded to. [[I failed.]]

But the whole process did make me think about star ratings for longer than I ordinarily would. I always have a number in my head when I leave a show. It's an instantaneous, intuitive thing. My heart gives me a number, my head writes the review to match it, and then I just omit the stars from the bottom because I don't like what they do to people. [[I can't help it.]]

So now, as a little experiment, I'm going to give you guys the opportunity to see if you can guess how many stars I'd give to //Chekhov's First Play// (if I could work out how to insert them into Twine, that is). To make things a little more exciting, more of a game if you like, I've decided to raise the stakes. Y'know, [[insert some peril into this narrative.]]

If you choose correctly, Miley Cyrus will show you her tits. If you fuck it up, you will delete this whole review. It's taken me a fortnight of planning, writing, problem-solving. If you get this wrong, it's all gone. A clean slate, a new beginning for all of us. [[What are you gonna choose?]]

(link: "ONE STAR")[(gotourl: "http://ak-hdl.buzzfed.com/static/2014-01/enhanced/webdr03/9/9/anigif_enhanced-buzz-21886-1389279538-6.gif")] (link: "TWO STARS")[(gotourl: "http://ak-hdl.buzzfed.com/static/2014-01/enhanced/webdr03/9/9/anigif_enhanced-buzz-21886-1389279538-6.gif")] (link: "THREE STARS")[(gotourl: "http://ak-hdl.buzzfed.com/static/2014-01/enhanced/webdr03/9/9/anigif_enhanced-buzz-21886-1389279538-6.gif")] (link: "FOUR STARS")[(gotourl: "http://static.thesuperficial.com/uploads/2015/01/miley-cyrus-topless-0127-04-760x1013.jpg")] (link: "FIVE STARS")[(gotourl: "http://ak-hdl.buzzfed.com/static/2014-01/enhanced/webdr03/9/9/anigif_enhanced-buzz-21886-1389279538-6.gif")]