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"The Seagull" Monologue by Anton Chekhov-2

Konstantin discusses his troubled relationship with his famous actress mother. He feels she resents him for making her feel older. As her son, he is constantly reminded that he has not achieved the same fame and success as her or others in their social circle. While he loves his mother, he dislikes her lifestyle of smoking, drinking, and flaunting her affairs. As the son of a famous actor but without his own talents or accomplishments, Konstantin struggles with feeling inadequate when surrounded by his mother's famous friends and being the "only one who isn't famous."

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Sean Hodges
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0% found this document useful (0 votes)
3K views1 page

"The Seagull" Monologue by Anton Chekhov-2

Konstantin discusses his troubled relationship with his famous actress mother. He feels she resents him for making her feel older. As her son, he is constantly reminded that he has not achieved the same fame and success as her or others in their social circle. While he loves his mother, he dislikes her lifestyle of smoking, drinking, and flaunting her affairs. As the son of a famous actor but without his own talents or accomplishments, Konstantin struggles with feeling inadequate when surrounded by his mother's famous friends and being the "only one who isn't famous."

Uploaded by

Sean Hodges
Copyright
© © All Rights Reserved
We take content rights seriously. If you suspect this is your content, claim it here.
Available Formats
Download as PDF, TXT or read online on Scribd
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Sean Hodges

07/04/2022

“THE SEAGULL” By: Anton Chekhov

Konstantin:

(Start)
She loves me, she loves me not. Loves me, loves me not. Love me, love
me not. See? My mother doesn’t love me. Well, why should she? She wants to
lead a glamorous life, make love to that man, and dress like an eighteen-year
old...and then there’s me. I’m twenty-five years old; I’m a constant reminder
she’s not so young anymore. When I’m not around, she’s only thirty-two; when
I’m around, she’s forty-three. That’s why she hates me. Besides, I can’t stand
her kind of theater. She loves The Theater, she thinks she’s serving the cause of
humanity, she thinks she’s a high priestess of Art, but what I think is, that kind
of theater is tired, it’s all worn out, It’s so restrictive! What we need are new
forms! We need new forms, and if we can’t have them, then we’re better off
with no theater at all. I love my mother, I really do, but just look at her she
smokes, she drinks, she flaunts her affair with that writer of hers, her name is
always in the papers, and I hate all that. And I guess sometimes it’s just my ego
talking. I mean, I’m just an ordinary mortal, aren’t I? Sometimes I’m sorry
she’s a great actress, and I think if she were just an ordinary woman I’d be
happier. Oh, Uncle...it’s awful! She has all these famous people at her parties,
writers and actors, and I’m the only one who isn’t famous, and they only
tolerate me because I’m her son. And who am I? I left the university after my
third year, I'm not talented, I haven’t got a cent to my name, my birth
certificate says I’m from Kiev, and I was ‘born into the middle-class.’ Why?
Because my father was from Kiev and he was ‘born into the middle-class’ he
just happened to be a famous actor! So there I am with all of those actors and
writers, and finally someone is kind enough to talk to me, but I know they
think I’m a nobody, and I just want to die!
(End) 350 Words

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