In the programme notes to Sean Holmes’ and Filter’s version of Three Sisters, Paul Taylor recalls a squabble between Chekov and Stanislavski over the use of sound in Chekov’s plays. Whereas Stanislavksi was keen on employing realistic sound effects in his productions – dragonflies, frogs croaking - Chekov considered this approach to be ‘as stupid as sticking a real nose on the painting of a face’. In other words - sound, just like any other element in theatre, is not an ‘extra effect’ to be layered on top of a completed picture or play, but should be an integral part of that original composition.

This sophisticated approach to sound in theatre is one you’d think ‘Filter’ - a company that, since 2003, has specialised in incorporating sound and physical theatre into their productions – would be keen to embrace, and yet the sound effects in this Lyric show, as well as the majority of interpretative twists (be that in design, costume or performance style), feel like add-ons, rather than considered components of the production.

Despite Filter priding itself on discovering, re-interpreting and releasing the ‘essence’ of a play – be that whilst working up an original composition or reworking an old classic - this show feels curiously unanchored, poking and hinting at ideas or new directions yet never laying down the interpretative gauntlet. It is as if this is a company still playing with its play, still rehearsing its ideas. 

The sound effects are disappointing – strangely unimaginative and unhelpful – and constantly throw the setting into the confusion, rather than sealing the show in its own curious world. We get a doorbell that sounds like a modern-day intercom and conversations miked up for no real reason (microphones are scattered across the stage). A good two minutes is devoted to the sound of a kettle boiling, and when a character mentions the stove, lo and behold, the sound of a stove boiling murmurs into life. It all sounds suspiciously like a ‘real nose’ on a ‘painting of a face’ to me.

Sometimes, the production feels like a showcase for sound – something this sophisticated, talented company has surely moved beyond. The use of microphones feels superficial, too. The sound of an actor miked up on-stage is so peculiarly emphatic – so alien and so showy – that it requires delicate handling. Katie Mitchell (despite her recent tendency to risk flattening a play with too many ideas and freezing her actors with too many demands) understands this and uses microphones sparingly and sensitively in her shows, highlighting scenes, words and sighs, that might deserve such special treatment.

Yet Filter seems unaware of the microphone’s exceptional impact, and uses it with strange abandon. If this were a play about secrets then perhaps this approach would make sense, but the characters in Three Sisters, though they might be unhappy, are not afraid to discuss the reasons why. They like to talk about their torment (‘What is this – is it a secret?’/My wife – she’s taken poison again’) and as such, I find it hard to see the value of these ‘exposed’ asides.

What Chekov’s play is certainly about, in part, is inaccessible dreams and unattainable fantasies. To be more precise – and to link it back to sound, this company’s speciality – Three Sisters is a play preoccupied with the impossibility of the characters on-stage reaching the music playing off-stage. Just what this music represents, if anything, is down to individual interpretation, but it is constantly there in the stage-directions and is a ubiquitous ‘half’ presence on-stage. This is something Filter could have played with: what might we learn about these characters as they stand, trapped on-stage, tormented by music they will never reach?

All this is frustrating because there is a playfulness to this collaboration which so nearly taps into the heart of Chekov’s changeable, sophisticated and modern-feeling play. Chekov was a deeply playful writer and there are some cheeky twists in this production (a wonderfully dim messenger decked out in a motorbike helmet, characters occasionally addressing the audience, slapstick moments of unadulterated silliness straight from Allo Allo), which perfectly complement the mischievous streak in Chekov’s writing. 

In fact, the sillier aspects of this production work well. Those playing comedy cameos have fun with their roles – theirs’ are characters that are funny in isolation and so, even with the interpretative framework sagging, they still manage to find sense and stature in their performances. Paul Brennan is excellent as Masha’s husband Fyodor Kulygin, who spends the majority of the play staggering around, crying gleefully ‘I am happy!’ The vapidness of these statements is sad in itself, which allows Brennan to wear his role lightly yet still create a character with substance.

David Judge as romantic soldier Vershinin and Nigel Cooke as dignified but drunk doctor Chebutykin are the only others to find real mileage in their roles. Judge’s Vershinin works because his motoring delivery (a style shared by all the actors in this piece – they seem to have been told to sprint, gasping, through the script) fits with his role as exuberant charmer. He finds a reason for rattling through his dialogue - whereas the majority of actors seem to be rushing through the script solely in order to keep things light.

Poppy Miller’s Olga seems to be particularly afflicted by this high-speed delivery and her dialogue is set permanently on fast-forward. Perhaps this motoring delivery might work in more heightened, high-concept production, but this show isn’t sophisticated enough to sustain such a self-conscious performance style. Claire Dunne, as Irina, fares better because, in a similar manner to Vershinin, her character’s natural enthusiasm and energy is better synched with this coked-up delivery.

Romola Garai makes little impact as Masha, which is strange since this is such a coveted role. It is telling that those playing bit-parts shine and yet those actors taking on some of the richest, most compelling roles written, fail to really register. Exceptional acting can save a lukewarm play but hazy, slightly bewildered performances were never going to rescue Filter’s confused Three Sisters.

Till 20 February 2010