Bad Blood Stanislavsky Disappoints With Tedious ëBrothers Karamazoví by Lisa Troshinsky The Stanislavsky Theater Studio is known for creating miracles, but it bit off more than it could chew when it decided to produce Fyodor Dostoyevskyís heavyweight epic, ìThe Brothers Karamazov.î The productionís original script should not have been a problem. The novel was adapted by the notoriously successful team of Roland Reed, Stanislavskyís playwright-in-residence, and director Andrei Malaev-Babel, Stanislavskyís producing artistic director, who has effectively adapted scripts for such past productions as ìThe Little Tragediesî by Aleksandr Pushkin, ìThe Idiotî also by Dostoyevsky, and ìDon Quixoteî by Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra. But the nearly three-and-a-half-hour performance (billed to be two and a half hours by the press release) would turn anyone away from the famous classic, thought to be Dostoyevskyís crowning achievement. The story, set in 19th-century Russia, is of Fyodor Karamazov, a lecherous drunk, and his adult sons, whom he abandoned as children after their mothers died. His first son, Dmitry, the emotional one, has stirred up trouble in the fa mily by demanding an inheritance from Fyodor that he believes his mother left to him. As can be expected, the father dodges his request. To make matters worse, Fyodor and Dmitry are fighting over the same love interest, Grushenka, a woman of ìloose morals.î The conflicts between Fyodor and his eldest son are witnessed by Fyodorís other sonsóIvan, the ìintellectual,î who contends that there is no God and therefore no act is immoral; Alyosha, the youngest and ìreligiousî son, who sees the good in everyone; and Smerdyakov, Fyodorís illegitimate son, who grew up in the Karamazov household as a servant. The father is ultimately murdered and Dmitry, who was quoted as saying heíd like to kill Fyodor, is accused of patricide. Dostoyevskyís 500-page novel can be difficult to follow, with its constant references to full Russian names and elaborate detail of character history, but one would think that a compact, live version would scale down the complexities and make the epic tale more user-friendly. Unfortunately, Stanislavskyís interpretationóbesides its cruel and unusual lengthóis confusing and seems to wander aimlessly. To its credit, the production has a pleasing, fable-like quality and stylized movement, for which the theater troupe is famous. A group of nine women, dressed identically and acting as a Greek chorus, mimic the main characters and reinforce the story line by acting as narrator at times. But this structure isnít strong enough to hold together the meat of the play, which reads as a meandering, slow-moving muddle. Much of the playís difficulty is a problem of overacting or underacting, as we lose the contradictions in character for which Dostoyevsky is so renowned. David Gaines is almost cartoonish in his portrayal of the hateful Fyodor, who drinks and whores his way from one scene to the next. Gaines misses Fyodorís soft side and fails to display a conscience of any kind, even in Fyodorís private moments, which robs the character of the authorís original intentions. ìStrange impulses of sudden feeling and sudden thought are common in such types,î Dostoyevsky wrote of Fyodor, whom he also described as both ìwicked and sentimental.î Dmitry is similarly overplayed by Joe Mills. It is clever that the eldest son was cast as the only African American (to exaggerate the characterís alienation and subjection to unwarranted accusation), but Mills only explores one level of his character: anger. Justin Benoitís peace-loving Alyosha is annoyingly blank, like a rag doll, and Steve Wilhite, who shows some depth as the philosophizing Ivan at the start of the play, becomes worn down like a smooth stone by the playís end. Dostoyevskyís story has another level: an exploration of the roles that faith, God and immortality play in the lives of his characters. But other than a few perfunctory discussions of the latter, we as an audience donít feel the full impact of the charactersí struggles with these concepts. Everything else aside, the play is creepyóIíll give it that. Fear is one emotion that doesnít demand much nuance, and that is well conveyed throughout the production. Credit for this can be given to Jessica Wadeís set and Colin K. Billsís lighting design. The playís world is a violent one, taking place in a stark, nearly all-black stage, with the occasional use of white and red spotlights. A few black boxes and sheer dividers make up most of the props and scenery, which leaves much up to the imagination and works well for a sense of mystery. In the end, the productionís esoterica is its saving grace. ìThe Brothers Karamazovî runs through Dec. 21 at the Stanislavsky Theater Studio, 1742 Church St., NW. For more information, please call (202) 265-3767 or for tickets, call the box office at (800) 494-8497, or visit www.sts-online.org. Lisa Troshinsky is the theater reviewer for The Washington Diplomat.