Summerfolk E-Book

MAXIM GORKY

• Herausgeber: Nick Hern Books
• Kategorie: Poesie und Drama
• Serie: NHB Classic Plays
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 143

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2026

Beschreibung

'I feel like, soon, the day after tomorrow, some other people are going to come, a strong, bold race, and sweep us off the face of the earth like litter.' It's a hot, beautiful summer in 1905, and Russia's elite retreats to the countryside to swim, sip champagne and start affairs.  When you're having this much fun, why care about anything else? But Vavara can't shake the feeling that they're living on stolen time. How long can they go on ignoring the storm that's gathering on the horizon? A razor-sharp portrait of class, privilege and denial, Summerfolk was written by Maxim Gorky in 1904. This adaptation by Nina Raine and Moses Raine premiered at the National Theatre, London, in 2026, directed by Robert Hastie.

Leseprobe

Maxim Gorky

SUMMERFOLK

in a new version by

Nina Raine and Moses Raine

NICK HERN BOOKS

London

www.nickhernbooks.co.uk

Contents

Original Production

Characters

Summerfolk

About the Authors

Copyright and Performing Rights Information

This version of Summerfolk was first performed in the Olivier auditorium of the National Theatre, London, on 17 March 2026 (previews from 6 March). The cast was as follows:

SASHA

Rebecca Banatvala

MAXIM ZIMIN

Thomas Barrett

SONYA

Tamika Bennett

PAVEL RYUMIN

Pip Carter

SEMYON DVOYETOCHIYE

Peter Forbes

NIKOLAI ZAMISLOV

Brandon Grace

PYOTR SUSLOV

Arthur Hughes

ENSEMBLE

Ivan Ivashkin

KROPILKIN

Sam Jenkins-Shaw

OLGA DUDAKOVA

Gwyneth Keyworth

YAKOV SHALIMOV

Daniel Lapaine

VLASS

Alex Lawther

YULIA SUSLOVA

Adelle Leonce

ENSEMBLE

Aisha-Mae McCormick

KALERIA

Doon Mackichan

MARIA LVOVNA

Justine Mitchell

ENSEMBLE

Roisin Rae

SERGEI BASSOV

Paul Ready

VARVARA BASSOVA

Sophie Rundle

KIRILL DUDAKOV

Sid Sagar

PUSTOBAIKA

Richard Trinder

ENSEMBLE

Ellie Turner

ENSEMBLE

Joe Usher

UNDERSTUDIES

SASHA/SONYA

Aisha-Mae McCormick

MAXIM ZIMIN/NIKOLAI ZAMISLOV/KIRILL DUDAKOV

Joe Usher

PAVEL RYUMIN/KROPILKIN/ PUSTOBAIKA

Ivan Ivashkin

SEMYON DVOYETOCHIYE/ YAKOV SHALIMOV   

Richard Trinder

PYOTR SUSLOV/ SERGEI BASSOV   

Sam Jenkins-Shaw

VLASS

Thomas Barrett

YULIA SUSLOVA/ OLGA DUDAKOVA   

Ellie Turner

KALERIA/MARIA LVOVNA

Roisin Rae

VARVARA BASSOVA

Rebecca Banatvala

MUSICIAN

Balalaika

Adrian Zolotuhin

Recorded at the National Theatre and engineered by Niall John Acott

Director

Robert Hastie

Set and Costume Designer

Peter McKintosh

Lighting Designer

Paul Pyant

Sound Designer

Alexandra Faye Braithwaite

Composer

Nicola T. Chang

Music Director

Candida Caldicot

Movement Director

Thomas Herron

Casting Director

Bryony Jarvis-Taylor CDG

Voice Coaches

Shereen Ibrahim and Zoe Littleton

Intimacy Consultant

Bethan Clark

BSL and Associate Director

Lilac Yosiphon

Associate Set Designer

Joseph Bisat Marshall

Characters

SERGEI VASSILICH BASSOV, a lawyer, forty

VARVARA MIKHAILOVNA, his wife, twenty-seven

KALERIA, his sister, twenty-nine

VLASS MIKHAILICH, Varvara’s brother, twenty-five

PYOTR IVANICH SUSLOV, an engineer, forty

YULIA FILIPOVNA, his wife, thirty

KIRILL AKIMOVICH DUDAKOV, a doctor, forty

OLGA ALEKSEYVNA, his wife, thirty

YAKOV PETROVICH SHALIMOV, a writer, forty

PAVEL SERGEYICH RYUMIN, thirty-two

MARIA LVOVNA, a doctor, thirty-seven

SONYA, her daughter, eighteen

SEMYON SEMYONICH DVOYETOCHIYE, Suslov’s uncle, fifty-five

NIKOLAI PETROVICH ZAMISLOV, Bassov’s assistant, twenty-eight

MAXIM ZIMIN, a student, twenty-three

PUSTOBAIKA, watchman of the villas, fifty

KROPILKIN, watchman

SASHA, the Bassovs’ maid

WOMAN WITH BANDAGED CHEEK, a nanny from nearby

SEMYONOV, amateur actor

LADY IN A YELLOW DRESS, amateur actor

YOUNG MAN IN A CHECKED SUIT, amateur actor

This ebook was created before the end of rehearsals and so may differ slightly from the play as performed.

ACT ONE

The Bassovs’ dacha. A large room combining dining room and sitting room. In the back wall, an open door leads to Bassov’s study. The door on the right leads to his wife Varvara’s room. The two rooms are separated by a passage, the entrance to which is covered by a heavy curtain. In the right wall is a window and wide door leading onto the veranda. In the left wall, two windows. A large dining table in the middle of the room. A grand piano opposite the study door. Wicker furniture, and a solid sofa.

Slowly, BASSOV becomes visible, sitting at the desk in his study, a reading lamp with a green shade in front of him. From time to time he hums, or turns his head to stare into the darkness of the big room.

VARVARA comes silently out of her room, lights a match, holds it in front of her and looks around. The match goes out. She makes her way quietly towards the window in the darkness, then stumbles against a chair.

BASSOV. Who’s that?

VARVARA. Me.

BASSOV. Oh.

VARVARA. Have you got my candle?

BASSOV. No.

VARVARA (calling). Sasha?

BASSOV. Has Vlass got back from town yet?

VARVARA. Don’t know. Did you get an earlier train? (She bumps into something.) Oops.

BASSOV. … Bloody house. It’s so dark in here. Even when it’s still light outside. Switches everywhere, but no actual lights. And massive gaps in the floorboards…

He hums a cheerful tune.

Varya – you still there?

VARVARA. I’m still here. In the dark.

SASHA enters.

Can you get us a lamp, Sasha?

BASSOV. Sasha, did Vlass get back yet?

SASHA. Not yet.

SASHA goes out, returns with a lamp, puts it on the table by the armchair. She wipes the ashtray, straightens the tablecloth on the dining table. VARVARA winds down the blind, takes a book from the shelf and sits in the armchair.

BASSOV. He’s got a bit too relaxed, old Vlass. I want him to feel at ease, but – he needs to rein it in. He’s been acting… quite oddly. And by oddly, I mean lazy. Fact.

VARVARA. Do you want some tea?

BASSOV. No, I’m going to the Suslovs’.

VARVARA. Oh. Sasha, can you go over to Olga’s, ask her if she’ll come and have tea with me.

SASHA. Yes ma’am.

SASHA exits.

BASSOV (locking his papers in a drawer). Done.

He cricks his back, this way and that.

Varya, seriously I think you should have a word with Vlass. Tell him that he needs to… behave as if his job is actually a job.

VARVARA. He’s staying late in town. Working. For you.

BASSOV. I’m giving your hopeless brother a break here. Can’t bear his depression. Brings me down.

VARVARA. I don’t think you should discuss him like that in front of Sasha.

BASSOV. Don’t be silly, the servants already know everything about us. Course they do. (Looking around.) It’s so bare in here. Don’t you think? Why haven’t we ever put anything on the walls? We come back here every summer. You ought to do something with the walls, Varya.

VARVARA. Do something? Like what?

BASSOV. Pictures? It’s just not very – cosy in here.

VARVARA. Yes.

BASSOV. Well, I’m off.

He makes to take her hand.

Are you all right? Give me your little paw… you’re very quiet… and you look… bored. What’s going on?

VARVARA. I thought you were going out.

BASSOV. Yes… Haven’t played chess with him for ages. Although – I haven’t kissed your little paw for ages. Is everything all right?

VARVARA (hiding a smile). We can talk about it later. Not important.

BASSOV. You’re a wonderful woman… intelligent… deep… et cetera. I think you’re reading too much. It’s not healthy, reading. It’s like a drug. Makes you neurotic. Are you feeling ill? Am I annoying you? You’re not going to cry, are you? It’s especially bad to read just before you go to bed –

VARVARA. I’m fine.

BASSOV yawns, takes the book out of her hands, sees who the author is.

BASSOV. All that print makes your brain fizzy… Oooh. Him. It’ll be interesting to see what he’s like now, when he gets here. Full of himself, probably.

VARVARA. Where’s he going to stay?

BASSOV. Obsessed with status. In the hut. They’re a weird bunch, these writers. My sister’s certainly weird. Although, she’s not really a writer, is she, Kaleria? She should marry him. Bit long in the tooth, though.

VARVARA. Him or her?

BASSOV. Her, her. Plus she’s always moaning. Like she’s got toothache. In her long teeth. Toothache of the soul.

VARVARA. You’re burbling, Sergei.

BASSOV. Well, no witnesses.

A dry cough is heard behind the door curtain.

Who’s that?!

SUSLOV (from behind the door curtain, sepulchrally). Suslov.

BASSOV. What the hell are you lurking for?

SUSLOV silently greets VARVARA.

SULSOV. I came to get you. Let’s go. (Smiling crookedly.) Apparently your pushy little assistant won ten thousand roubles at the club.

BASSOV. What? Nikolai? Seriously? Good man!

SUSLOV. From some totally legless merchant…

VARVARA (pained ). You always…

SUSLOV. What?

VARVARA. He’s won some money… and then, you have to go and say, that it’s – from someone who was drunk.

SUSLOV (grinning). I did not say. I just said he was totally legless.

BASSOV. Exactly. Now, if he’d said, Nikolai got a merchant totally legless, and then cleaned him out – but that’s not what he said, he said – ah!

VARVARA. Vlass!

BASSOV. You took your time.

VLASS enters with an old briefcase in his hands and newspaper.

VLASS. Did you survive without me? Did you miss me, glad to hear it. (To SUSLOV, in a mock-menacing way like a policeman.) I’m going to have to caution you, sir, there’s a strange man looking for you, just arrived. He’s walking from dacha to dacha asking for you in a very loud voice.

He goes up to VARVARA.

Hello.

VLASS puts the newspaper down on a nearby sofa.

VARVARA. Hello.

SUSLOV. Oh, God. Must be my uncle.

BASSOV. Oh dear – shall I not come over, then?

SUSLOV. No! You think I want to be alone with him? I haven’t seen him for about ten years. Can’t think of anything worse.

BASSOV (to VLASS). Vlass, come into my room.

VARVARA. Sergei, can’t you stop working for five minutes?

They head into his study.

SUSLOV. Are you coming over to ours, Varvara?

VARVARA. No, thanks.

SUSLOV looks around appraisingly.

SUSLOV. One of my guys should come in here to fix your lights. We’re building a property round the corner… Who did the lights in here?

VARVARA. You did.

SUSLOV. Oh.

VARVARA. Is he poor, your uncle?

SUSLOV. No. Minted. Very. What are you saying? That it’s only my poor relatives I don’t like? I dislike all my relatives equally.

VARVARA. I don’t know what I’m saying.

SASHA enters.

SASHA. Olga Sergeyevna said she’s just coming. Shall I make some tea?

VARVARA. Yes, please.

SASHA. And Nikolai Petrovitch is coming.

She exits.

SUSLOV (coughing irritably). That Nikolai’s going to get your husband into trouble one of these days. He’s a nasty piece of work. Don’t you think?

VARVARA (calmly). I don’t want to talk about it.

SUSLOV. You know, Varvara, this role of calm mother superior, it’s a very tricky one. You need a lot of personality to carry it off…

VARVARA. Yes. And I don’t have one.

SUSLOV. Go on, lose your temper. Just a bit.

SUSLOV goes over to the study door.

Sergei, how long are you going to be? What’s going on in there? Foreplay? Skip to the end.

BASSOV. I’m coming. Right now.

NIKOLAI enters.

NIKOLAI. Greetings, greetings, one and all! Greetings, my lady! Evening, Suslov.

SUSLOV (coughing). Greetings, Nikolai. Apparently you cleaned someone out at the club last night.

NIKOLAI (gently). The phrase you’re looking for is – won. ‘Well done. You won.’ ‘Cleaned out’ sounds a bit medical. Sadly, I only won forty-two roubles.

SUSLOV coughs drily, walks to the left and looks out of the window.

BASSOV. Oh. I had visions of bouquets and champagne.

NIKOLAI. Varvara, such a pity you’re not in the play. Yulia Filipovna is wonderful in it. (To SUSLOV.) Talented lady, your wife. We’re doing Midsummer Night’s Dream –

SUSLOV. Amateur theatrics. You never see better performances than the people afterwards. ‘It was wonderful.’ It wasn’t. It was shite on a stick. Let’s go.

NIKOLAI (amused ). Someone’s a bit sharp.

SUSLOV. Goodbye, Varvara.

He bows to NIKOLAI coldly.

Bye.

BASSOV looks into the study where VLASS is sorting out papers.

BASSOV (authoritatively). So you’ll have it copied out by nine a.m. tomorrow, hopefully?

VLASS (from off ). Hopefully. God, I can’t wait, what fun. (Under his breath.) Bully.

SUSLOV and BASSOV exit.

NIKOLAI. I’d better go, too…

He shakes VARVARA’s hand.

VARVARA. Stay and have tea?

NIKOLAI. Later. Must go. Rehearsals.

He exits quickly. VLASS emerges from the study.

VLASS. Your husband is awful. When will he die. I need tea.

VARVARA. Call Sasha.

She puts her hand on his shoulder.

Why are you looking so exhausted?

VLASS rubs his cheek against her hand.

VLASS. Because I am exhausted. I was in court from ten till three, from three till seven I ran around town for him, didn’t have any lunch. I’m feeling faint… Have I got cheekbones yet?

VARVARA (tutting). Vlass. You could do so much better… A clerk, you’re even lower down the food chain than Nikolai. Why don’t you get a proper job, something meaningful –

VLASS. You were the one who got me this stupid job! (Mock indignation.) And excuse me! What I do is very meaningful! I take an intense part in the sacred institution of real estate – Seriously / boring –

VARVARA. Yes, seriously, Vlass –

VLASS. I like that face. Makes me feel like I’m married. At last, an angry woman I can endlessly disappoint.

SASHA enters.

My dear Sasha! Bring me something to eat while my sister tells me off?

SASHA. What about a cutlet?

VLASS. Fantastic. I’m in a cutlet frame of mind.

SASHA goes out. VLASS puts his arm around his sister’s waist and strolls about the room with her.

What’s up. Tell me.

VARVARA (intimately). Ohhh… For some reason I feel low. You know, Vlasik… you know how, sometimes, somehow… not thinking of anything in particular… suddenly you feel trapped?

Everything seems fake… horrible… useless… and everyone seems… so shallow somehow. Even you… joking around.

VLASS (striking a comic pose). Oh come on… not fair… I write serious poetry. Much better than Kaleria’s.

VARVARA picks up the newspaper, looks at it.

VARVARA. I’ve got this sense of doom. Looming doom.

VLASS smartly takes the newspaper off her, puts it under a cushion.

VLASS. There are so many words that rhyme with doom. Room, moon, baboon.

VARVARA (darkly). Soon.

VLASS. Soon is more a half-rhyme. You’d know that if you were more of a poet, like me.

SASHA comes in with the tea things, and busies herself deftly at the table. The nightwatchman’s rattle can be heard.

VARVARA. Vlass. Please. Shut up.

VLASS. Yes. You’re not very nice. I have to be quiet all day, copying out suings and counter-suings – of course, by the end of the day I’m going to babble hysterically –

VARVARA. I want to get out of here. Go somewhere where people are simple, healthy –

VLASS. You sound like Tolstoy.

VARVARA. No. Stop it. Be serious. Where they talk about different things, in a different language –

VLASS. And they think in capital letters and they’re all working at some great project for the benefit of humanity… It’s a fiction. All there is, is this.

VARVARA. Come on, Vlass, you know what I mean.

VLASS (thoughtfully). Yes, I do. I hate to break it to you – you’re not going to go anywhere, Varya. And neither am I.

VARVARA. I might. I just might.

Pause. SASHA brings in the samovar. VARVARA looks at her book.

I think Shalimov’s arriving tomorrow.

VLASS. Oh Shalimov? Oh, no. I don’t like his latest stuff. Empty. Boring. Limp. Did you read his last thing?

VARVARA. I saw him once, giving a lecture. I was still at school. I remember him striding out onto the platform, strong and resolute…

VLASS. And massively overrated…

VARVARA. He had this beautiful, open face, the face of a man who knows what he loves and what he hates, thick, wild hair…

VLASS. Hair. So important for a writer.

VARVARA.…I was trembling. Amazed that people like him actually existed! I remember his eyes, so… intense, and he had this way of tossing back his head and his hair, it kept falling across his forehead –

VLASS. Who’d have thought he’d go bald. Shine on, harvest moon.

VARVARA (genuinely shocked ). Vlass! He can’t possibly have gone bald. It was only six or seven years ago. Eight, tops.

VLASS (nodding). How come writers get so much sex? Can’t they share? I’d love a little crumb of sex.

VARVARA. The thought of seeing him… I can’t help waiting for it like, like I’m waiting for the spring. My life is so pointless.

VLASS. Completely, I do understand. My life’s pointless too, remember.

He thinks about it.

Somehow it makes me feel ashamed. Awkward. You know, like being at a party where you’re not actually invited, like a plus-one in my own life. What are we all doing here?

VARVARA. Yes! Exactly! But then why –

VLASS. Why do I act like this? I don’t know.

(Suddenly simply, serious.) Because… I don’t want anyone to know. How I really feel.

KALERIA comes in.

KALERIA. What a gorgeous evening! What are you sitting in here for?

VLASS (rousing himself ). Kaleria! Our very own poet and all-round rhyming couplet!

KALERIA. The woods are so quiet. Like the trees are in a trance. With that out-of-focus moon and thick, warm shadows. Day could never be more beautiful than night.

VLASS. Round of applause for the poet.

KALERIA. Shut up, Vlass. Varya, I need some tea.

VLASS. For tea is my wife: coffee is my mistress. Quite fun, this poetry lark.

KALERIA. Oh, do shut up, Vlass!

VLASS. I’ll shut up, I’ll shut up.

VLASS bows, goes into the study, starts sorting through the papers on the desk. Through the window in the distance we can hear the rattle of the nightwatchman and a soft whistle.

VARVARA. Yulia came to see you. You know, Filipovna.

KALERIA. Me? Oh, yes. About the play.

VARVARA. She wants you to play Titania. Where were you? In the wood?

KALERIA. Yes. I saw Ryumin. In the wood. He talked a lot about you.

Pause. VLASS is singing something, nasally, softly.

VARVARA (sighing). It’s so depressing. I find him very sad- making.