Ian McKellen gives this ‘Seagull’ its wings

Ian McKellen doesn’t dominate the Royal Shakespeare Company production of Chekhov’s “The Seagull” the way he does “King Lear,” both of which are running in repertory at Royce Hall as part of UCLA Live’s International Theatre Festival. But his indispensable presence is a marvel of aesthetic balance and discretion that serves as a kind of metronome for the rest of the cast to follow.

The adjective that comes to mind to describe his performance is “humble,” which isn’t a word customarily associated with one of the flashier members of the British theatrical aristocracy. Yet McKellen’s lightly wistful portrayal of Sorin, the rapidly aging owner of the country estate where the play is set, never attempts to turn a supporting role into a star turn. The irony is that he manages to steal most of the scenes that he’s in, even the one in which his character, near death in the final act, slumbers as everyday Sturm und Drang swirls around him.

There are miscalculations in Trevor Nunn’s handling of Chekhov’s comedy -- mainly, the pace is too slow and the ensemble is uneven -- but there’s a steadiness that’s ultimately rewarding (and should make those performances when William Gaunt assumes the role from McKellen worth attending). This is no small feat. Although endlessly delightful to read, “The Seagull” is notoriously hard to get right onstage. In fact, when it was first done in 1896, its author wisely ducked into a dressing room to escape the growingly hostile crowd.

Chekhov enjoyed flouting artistic conventions, and here, in the first of his unequivocal stage masterpieces, he makes a huge leap in discovering his unique dramatic form. The play, essentially an unromantic meditation on love, divides the action among four protagonists, all of them artists and all of them pulsating with amorous desire. The thematically organized plot consists mostly of chat. And, most puzzling of all, the work, which is labeled a comedy, culminates in a tragic blast.

Obviously, no one’s heading to the chapel in a rush of marital ecstasy at the end, as comedies were expected to happily conclude. Still (and in that “still” lies the genius of Chekhov), “The Seagull” is quite compassionately hilarious in its observations of the self-dramatizing and self-pitying -- you know, the more likable types of egomaniacs, who by slightly exaggerating our own antics put us in a forgiving mood.

When we first meet Konstantin (Richard Goulding), a fledgling writer with a neurasthenic bent, his play is about to have its premiere in the backyard of his uncle Sorin’s lakefront home (impressionistically rendered by set designer Christopher Oram). Already anguished about his uncertain future, he’s even more on edge than usual because his mother, the grand-dame actress Arkadina (Frances Barber), is in the audience with her boyfriend, the famous novelist Trigorin (Gerald Kyd). What’s more, the jittery playwright is strung out in love with Nina (Romola Garai), the ingenue in his symbolist performance piece, which doesn’t go well, thanks to Arkadina’s impatience with what she considers avant-garde gobbledygook.

Self-absorbed mother and needy son have impacted Oedipal issues to work out, and everyone is grappling with the yawning gap between dreams and reality. Chekhov knew that nothing made us live in a pretend future as much as romantic love, which by definition has an unrequited aspect to it. And artists, who spend the bulk of their waking hours dabbling in fantasy, are peculiarly prone to making mountains out of illusory molehills.

All of this is to say that “The Seagull” is such a miraculously wonderful play that it’s easy to overlook flaws in acting and directing when a solid attempt is made at bringing its tricky rhythms to life. Nunn provides just that, which is a good thing considering how much goes wrong, including the ham-fisted move of showing us Konstantin’s botched suicide attempt. Chekhov keeps this offstage for a reason, preferring to focus on how we cope in our daily lives rather than on the melodrama that occasionally upsets them.

The actresses, though, are the weak link here. Garai, who wears Nina’s naivete on her sleeve, has a pleading quality that’s a real scene spoiler. While her radiant loveliness would explain why all the men are falling in love with her, her dewy-eyed gaze and squeal of a voice should have sobered them up by now.

With her outsize gestures and astringent delivery, Barber strikes me as an actress who’s an acquired taste. She tilts the role of Arkadina toward a more aggressive form of British farce. If there’s a drop of Slavic blood in this supposedly Russian diva, you’d never guess it. But then most of the cast members are strolling about as though it’s a sunny day in West Sussex.

Speaking of geographical confusion, Monica Dolan’s pungent Masha, the prematurely middle-aged woman who perpetually wears black because she’s “in mourning for her life,” sounds as though she could be from Wales, which makes no sense, as her parents, the managers of Sorin’s property, speak like a proper English couple.

The men, on the whole, fare better, though Goulding overdoes Konstantin’s furrowed brow and pouting hand-waving. We get the torment of a writer who hasn’t yet made his name, but the combustible psychology of the character isn’t adequately sorted out.

By contrast, Kyd’s longhaired Trigorin comes across more as a vain actor than an obsessive scribbler, but he does a fine job of letting us see selfish passion overtaking him.

Chekhov’s doctor characters tend to have somewhat jaded sensibilities, but Dorn is one of the more endearing. Jonathan Hyde captures the various textures of a realist who hasn’t lost all of his sympathy.

But it’s McKellen’s Sorin, an elegant old walking stick about to be packed away for good, who grounds the production in an ultimate truth.

Life is passing, so try to enjoy the picturesque view and your glass of sherry even as your heart is ready to burst with all that might have been.

charles.mcnulty@latimes.com

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‘The Seagull’

Where: Royce Hall, UCLA campus, Westwood

When: Go to www.uclalive.org for schedule

Ends: Oct. 28

Price: $40 to $90

Contact: (310) 825-2101

Running time: 3 hours, 20 minutes