Staff Writer Annie Lind reviews Barnard’s Three Sisters, or we will never go back to Moscow.

In her director’s note, Gisela Cardenas described the story of Three Sisters as “simultaneously static and hectic.” It is, indeed, a play of contradictions: characters pursue, then abandon; accept, then refuse; many things happen at once, and yet nothing really happens at all.

Anton Chekhov’s classic play is the tale of three sisters – Irina, Olga, and Masha – passing their days in a provincial town, longing to leave for Moscow. Irina is young, full of life and hope; Olga is practical, kind, sometimes motherly; and Masha is more cynical and reserved. Their brother, Andrei, is frequently anxious and emotional, though they adore him. There are a handful of soldiers quartered at their house, and they serve as suitors for the girls. 

Throughout the family’s meandering philosophical conversations, mundane observations, and wavering desires, the dream of Moscow remains constant. It is the place in which the sisters spent their childhood, and their desperation to return is thinly-veiled nostalgia for the rapidly fading past. But they cannot retrace their footsteps, and no matter how desperately they want it, how many years they’ve spent yearning for it, they will never arrive. Their hope of moving to that city is shattered ad nauseam. As Cardenas wrote, “We must remember that we are never going back to Moscow. Moscow is the present.”

The Barnard Theatre department managed to accomplish a set of difficult feats last weekend: invent a relevant, original revival, and turn a traditionally lethargic play into something thrilling. I was absorbed in every second of this performance. 

With each act, the stage underwent a metamorphosis (engineered by Maruti Evans, Yuki Nakase Link, and Rhys Roffey). It began mostly empty, sterile and white, with two large clocks swaying forebodingly against the wall and a bright red piano standing to the right. The word MOSCOW was spelled out above the stage in giant letters, nearly hanging over the audience, looming, loud, arresting. As characters appeared, they brought with them silky pink furniture, flowers, and balloons. During a birthday scene, the whole stage shone neon pink, and a wall of glittering streamers descended over the background. In the second act, a vintage TV softly glowed in the center of the stage, its light flooding the room, before it abruptly morphed into a celebratory carnival party. Each character arrived in absurd animal masks, donning the rubbery faces of goats, golden retrievers, and fish. As the dancing and music commenced, a disco ball descended, sending glittering streaks of light flying across the theater. 

After a brief intermission, the third act opened doused in red light, with vaguely transparent curtains fluttering over the word MOSCOW concealed in the background. Each character shone a flashlight directly on themselves to illuminate their faces. The third act of this production was dripping with dread: it felt like a horror movie’s opening scene. In a stunning transition into the fourth act, the red curtains were ripped away to reveal those enormous letters spelling out MOSCOW – and the two big clocks started to violently swing. As the play progressed toward its finale, characters carried off the large letters, one by one. It was a dream dissipating, dying out before the audience’s very eyes.

Those in charge of lighting, design, music, and props created an exhilarating show. The music throughout – frequent interludes of dancing with jingling tambourines and cheerful strings, or a sadly whining violin, or bits and pieces of songs from various characters – resulted in a colorful blend of sounds (the work of Daniella Sapone, CC ‘25, and Paul Pinto). The costuming, done by Oana Botez, was modern, almost cartoonish at times, and quite varied: Olga (played by Jaeden Riley Juarez, CC ’25) first appeared in a long blue dress with a big white collar, Ferapont (played by Jalen Lee, CC ’25) rolled in on a scooter in a bright green Adidas tracksuit, and Anfisa, the old maid (played by Jasmine Richards, CC ’26), was decorated in almost Victorian-era dress. 

Ava Blum (CC ’27), as Irina, gave the role so much life, energy, and attitude that she practically radiated onstage. Juarez, as Olga, with her matter-of-fact way of speaking and expressive faces, introduced a certain dry humor that sent the audience into loud bursts of laughter. Mimi Wu (CC ’26), playing Masha, moved with a kind of dignity and severity that was at once imposing and hilarious.

Another notable performance was that of Natasha, played by Kiana Mottahedan (CC ’26), who started off as a timid young girl and slowly transformed into a perfect villain. She began to don high heels, hold her head higher, and sport ridiculously colorful and stiff dresses. This exaggerated evolution gave the play an added layer of drama and ludicrousness. Additionally, the lustfulness and awkwardness of Kulygin, played by Maxwell Seelig (CC ’26) and subtle seductiveness of Vershinin, played by Desislava Kremenlieva (CC ’26), were clever takes on the two characters.

The comedy of Three Sisters, while subtle in the script, truly shone through in this production. It spun the audience up into the absurd lives of all of these characters without letting the more devastating themes of the play slip away. It struck a perfect balance. Even as the play began to dissolve into tragedy, Kulygin got some laughs by dancing around the crying sisters in Groucho glasses. What Cardenas’ direction really emphasized, between the animal masks, the clashing costumes, and the constant contrast between humor and unhappiness, was the absurdity of life. 

That is, really, what Chekhov wanted most to explore in this play: the ridiculous nature of our lives rolling toward death, our often wrong decisions, the fantasies we invent but are never brave enough to see become reality. Cardenas wrote: “What happens when that dream, the Moscow of our play, becomes an empty prayer that, like a slogan in a commercial, hangs over our present, obliterating any possibility of seeing where we are and how we can change?” Three Sisters starts off strong, in an optimistic mood, but as the dream of Moscow flies higher and higher away, its characters begin to crumble.

Cardenas’ rendition of this play offers a conclusion that is at once ironic and gut-wrenching: a dream such as Moscow is only as good as one’s imagination. This is epitomized when Irina cries out, in a moment of heartbreaking clarity, “We will never go back to Moscow!” – and, after a pause, is met with a standing ovation. 

I have seen this play a few times, and this was by far my favorite interpretation of it. The beautiful, ever-changing set; the continuous music; the wit and emotional breadth of the actors. Cardenas successfully teased out the underlying energy of Three Sisters: an anticipatory, restless, vibrating anxiety that permeates every scene. This production may have been a sharp critique of human nature, but it was softened with a sympathetic understanding of just how brutally our own dreams can make us suffer. I left the theater feeling melancholy, dazed – and, in a strangely fortuitous way, fulfilled.

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