National Theatre Live: Vanya

Theatre – it can show us who we are, who we were and who we could be.

It means imagining bigger,

understanding better,

feeling together –

on our stages and on tour,

in schools

and with communities,

on cinema screens worldwide

and now at home.

We are the National Theatre.

We make theatre for everyone.

Art helps us to see the world in new ways.

The stories behind great works help to bring them to life,

and hearing them shouldn't be a privilege.

That's why we built Bloomberg Connects.

An app that lets you discover a growing number of museums, gardens and parks,

behind-the-scenes interviews and public art from around the world,

all in a single download right in the palm of your hand.

Bloomberg Connects offers a world of inspiration.

Join the National Theatre community and hundreds of cultural institutions

to get a deeper look into the world of art through Bloomberg Connects.

Have some tea, Michael.

I don't really feel like tea, Maureen.

Or maybe you should have a 'drink' drink.

No.

No.

I don't drink every day, you know, Maureen. I don't drink, like, all the time.

This weather, it feels close.

Feels like it's gonna break.

How long have we known each other, Maureen?

Oh, my God! Jesus!

Uh...

Let me think. You came here for the first time...

When was it?

...when Anna, Sonia's mother, was sick.

And then you had to come again the next year.

It was two visits in two years before...

...before she died.

So...

Eleven years, is it?

Have I changed, do you think?

Oh, God, yeah. You have. You used to be so handsome.

And you were so young then, Michael.

And now you're old.

And of course you drink more than you used to, Michael. Yeah.

Yeah.

Yeah, well, I'm on my feet all day. I never rest.

I work myself to the bone.

And then you get home, and you pray to God a patient isn't gonna call you out again,

but they do.

They always do.

So, in all the time that I've known you, Maureen, in the last decade,

I've not had a single day off.

What do you expect me to do but get old?

And then you look around you, and all you see are lunatics.

The people here are lunatics, Maureen.

Every single one of them.

And when you surround yourself with lunatics,

after a while, you become a lunatic, too.

I've started growing my own carrots.

Little, tiny carrots. How did that happen?

See, I've become a lunatic, too.

It's not that I'm stupid. I'm not stupid, thank you very much.

My brain is still largely in the right place, but my...

My feelings are dull. Dead.

I don't want anything. I don't... need anything.

I don't love anybody.

Except you.

I love you, Maureen.

Are you sure you don't want a drink?

I am.

I'm quite sure.

Quite sure, Maureen.

Maureen!

Oh, Dr Michael, you're back!

Yes, Ivan, I'm back.

Did you get a... Did you get a nap in?

I did. Thank you, Dr Michael.

Ever since Alexander the Great and his good lady wife got here...

They've knocked our lives completely out of kilter.

I'm sleeping really deeply at absolutely the wrong times of day.

I'm eating all this weird food from, like, Kabul,

drinking wine in the day...

It's not good for me, Doctor.

It's not good for me at all.

Before they got here, I didn't have a moment to spare, did I, Maureen?

I was working all the time.

Me and Sonia were preparing the harvest, managing the boxes, ordering the deliveries...

...managing the orders.

And that was just Sonia! She did everything,

because all I do is eat, sleep, drink, repeat!

Eat, sleep, drink, repeat!

It's ridiculous, Ivan.

Alexander keeps giving me all these instructions

about the food that he can eat when he's working.

He wants me to make him soup every day!

He insists that I make him fresh soup every day, which makes no sense

because soup isn't exactly difficult to keep, but oh, no, he wants it fresh.

So, I do. I make him fresh soup every day.

He gets up at midday.

He works all through the afternoon, and the soup gets cold.

And then he complains about it being reheated.

Before they got here, we had lunch every day at one o'clock,

like normal people do.

Now we're waiting for the Maestro to give the word.

With these two, lunch is at six o'clock some days!

And then, in the evening, all he does is read and write.

And at one o'clock in the morning, he calls me.

"Maureen!"

"Wha... What do you want?" "Mineral water!"

I'm dragged out of bed to get him iced mineral water.

Honestly!

I have no words!

It's like now!

Now, the soup was ready for when he asked for it,

and he's gone for a walk! A walk!

"My name's The Maestro, and I'm going for a walk!"

Jesus, they're coming! They're coming! Shut up! Shh! Shh! Shh! Shh!

Alexander! Helena!

Welcome back from your... from your perambulations!

There's some soup there for you, if you want it, Alexander.

Oh...!

Uh, ooh...!

Ah!

Well, not if it's been sitting.

Oh, Doctor, I hope you're not here to see me.

I've got a... a scene that I urgently need to finish by the end of the day.

Helena! Helena, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait...! I need your help with the stairs.

My leg is absolute murder.

It's boiling hot.

It's stuffy, right?

Stuffy! Stuffy is the precise word for it.

But, oh, no, Alexander's got his coat on,

and his gloves, and his scarf, and his wee mittens.

But oh, my God, Helena!

She's amazing, Michael, isn't she?

I think she might be the most beautiful woman I have ever seen in my life.

There's something quite exceptional about life in the countryside.

Who said that?

Me, Liam!

- Where do you come from? - Oh, I've been here the whole time.

Oh...! Oh! Oh, sorry!

Wherever I'm in the countryside,

whether that's... that's striding through the fields,

or walking through the garden, or...

or even just sitting here now on this... on this... on this... this little chair.

I feel such bliss.

This weather's so lovely, the little...

What are they?

The little birds are singing.

The way we live here - so simply, happily, peacefully.

What more could anybody want out of life, huh, Ivan?

Um... Hmm...

I could think of a couple of things.

- So what's been going on, Ivan? - Nothing's been going on, Doctor.

Nothing's been going on at all.

Everything's still the same as it always was.

My mother's still a mad old crow.

She's in a state of complete denial now, Michael.

She's got one eye on the grave

and the other eye reading all these magazines

about how at her age life is just beginning.

Alexander sits at his desk all day

and writes and writes and writes and writes and writes,

scratching, scraping, crossing out, and writing some more.

It's the paper I feel sorry for.

He's not made a single film in seventeen years, Michael.

He's dry as a bone.

And this old fucker's now living on his first wife's money,

my sister's money, Anna, may she rest in peace.

The Maestro himself is now living on her potato farm,

not because he wants to, but because he can't afford to live in the city,

even though he is a... uh... what do they call him?

A generational defining filmmaker.

Do you know, he's been given three honorary doctorates.

Three! Doctor, Doctor, Doctor!

And what for? For what?

Nothing, Michael. Nothing at all.

He's never had an original idea in his life.

His only successful films were adaptations.

And even they were...

...well, adequate. I wouldn't call 'em 'generational defining', for fuck's sake!

And he's so pompous, Michael. And he never fucking shuts up.

And the luck that fucker has with women!

Not even Don Juan de Marco has the luck that that old fucker has.

Anna! You met Anna?

Of course I did, Ivan.

How beautiful was Anna?

She was, Ivan, she was very beautiful.

Really, though, Michael, she was. She was... She was...

She was lovely.

She was so full of love!

The amount of men that fell in love with my sister!

And she chose him... out of all of them!

My mother worships him.

- Elizabeth does? - Yes!

Her voice goes all weird every time she talks to him.

She looks at him like... like he's some kind of prophet.

And now Helena! I mean, he's about 128 times older than she is.

And look at her, Michael.