Matthew Gasda’s Vanya on Huron, an adaptation of Anton Chekhov’s classic in a new translation by Albina Aleksandrova, highlights the timeless affliction of human desire. The play was so named for the intimate loft-like space of Brooklyn Center for Theater Research on Huron Street in Greenpoint where it took place. Gasda, known for his original play Dimes Square—an incisive yet ultimately uneven attempt at dissecting a hyperlocal New York scene—approaches this canonical text with a reverence that feels faithful to the late-19th-century original. Rather than updating Chekhov’s world to fit the aesthetic and jargon of 2025, Gasda’s production remains rooted in the original’s fin-de-siècle sensibilities, save for the occasional dash of modernity (Asrov—played by George Olesky—utters “zillennial” during the first act, earning a hearty chuckle from the audience). By staying rooted in the original text, Gasda’s staging asks: how many tales of suffering within Uncle Vanya can we see in modern life and relationships, 120-odd years later?

Unrelenting despair might look just like it did in the 1890s. Vanya on Huron coheres around the sorrow of romantic yearning. At the heart of Vanya on Huron is Sonya, portrayed by Mia Vallet in a performance that is equal parts subtly and openly heartbreaking. Vallet’s agonizing take on Sonya’s unrequited love for Astrov, a country doctor mired in his work to conserve local forests, collides with Astrov’s own futile obsession for Yelena (Asli Mumtas), the significantly younger wife of Aleksandr, a pedantic professor played by Derrick Peterson. As the name of the play suggests, Uncle Vanya, portrayed with a vigorous yet at times misplaced emotional fervor by Bob Laine, is at the center of this complex web of love, lust, and want. He is uncle to Sonya, brother to the professor, and woefully enamored of Yelena, who doesn’t give him the time of day due to his drinking. Longing reverberates in the spaces where hopes and dreams never come to fruition.

Gasda’s directorial choices emphasize Chekhov’s tragic irony without overstating it—Vanya is more antagonistic than misanthropic, Sonya more a spurned woman than a victim, Yelena aware of her role as a vessel for male yearning, rather than a passive hot girl. While effects are largely the results of the actors own choices, the way Gasda nurtures their choices through erratic movements in the blocking and longer beats creates a well-rounded, lingering tension. Though Vanya on Huron isn’t without fault. While The Brooklyn Center for Theater Research’s space is well-suited for a closer look at the dynamics of the play, at times the space of the stage felt quashed by the overwhelming loudness of the characters’ confrontations (at the climax, Vanya tries and fails to shoot his brother with a handgun). That said, the interplay between the characters is organic, their lives quietly unspooled by yearning. Gasda trusts the text and his cast to speak for themselves, crafting a production that is at once true to Chekhov and his own interpretation.