The Real Ivanov

I cannot tell a lie. This one just didn’t do much for me. I didn’t understand what was supposed to make this different or a “new adaptation” more than just a straightforward (rather low budget) production of Chekhov’s Ivanov. At the time of its writing, I’m sure it was groundbreaking for its portrayal of depression. Today, in a world full of mental health stories and awareness, it doesn’t offer anything particularly noteworthy outside of its historical significance. Sam Underwood as the titular listless and woeful man of misery gives a respectable performance, but I’m afraid the rest of the cast left me unimpressed.