But certainly he is doing just what Chekhov did with “The Wood Demon.” Eight years after he'd written the play, a relatively early and relatively light‐hearted trial flight, Chekhov simply set creative fire to vast portions of it and planted in its stead “Uncle Vanya.” The later play is a distillation of the earlier-waste characters have been done away with, charming though they may have been, and the web in which those remaining writhe has been more judiciously spun-but it doesn't deny the earlier any more than it denies the exultation of tearing down to rebuild. We don't know that he stands for Chekhov, and there's no need to force him into the role. “I'll plant new ones!” he cries gaily, quite beyond himself, as he runs. Well, of course he'll try to help save the trees. He kicks his heels in joy before hurrying to the conflagration, as mysteriously elated as he is transparently anxious. And he does do that, but very oddly indeed. Knowing him as we do, in Ian McKellan's beautifully intemperate performance at the Brooklyn Academy of Music, we expect him to leap to his feet in fury and race off to help quench the flames. The one most immediately concerned is Khruschov, impatient doctor to them all, passionate devotee of forestry, a chap in boots and peasant blouse who likes to help God create by planting birch trees and whose anger is unbounded when he contemplates the loss of so much as a sapling. Certainly worth seeing if you have an interest in the body of Chekhov's work, but not essential.TOWARD the very end of Chekhov's “The Wood Demon,” when three or four couples on a country estate are trying to rearrange the raggle‐taggle patterns of their lives, there is a flash fire in a patch of woods nearby. If that flaw lies with the actors, the director, or the playwright himself was hard to ferret out on just one viewing. The supporting cast is strong, although the characters don't seem as memorable as some of the other BBC Chekhov productions.
Holm is terrific, although the performance is arguably a bit theatrical for the world of small screen close ups.
Ian Holm – who I always love – is the title character, rabid about protecting what's left of the forests, but ironically unaware of the damage he does to the hearts of others.
Chekhov was second to none in seeing how families and friends could rip each other apart, without ever really seeing how hurtful their words and actions could be, just as developers and industrialists would destroy the forests for short term profit without thinking of how they leave the world in their wake. None-the-less, this more-serious-than-not play (and production) has its moments. Chekhov was a master at fusing comedy and tragedy, but in this comparatively early work, the marriage seems a bit forced at times. More than many of Chekhov's plays, it seems to suffer a bit from an unevenness of tone. An early variation on what would become "Uncle Vanya".
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