Cinematic and Literary Examples

A Literary Example

Naná From the novel by Émile Zola By Alba Chartroux

Naná is an example, in the study of character, for the clarity with which the author describes the fundamental traits of the Sexual subtype of Enneagram E2, particularly regarding its most exasperated manifestations.

Naná is born in the miserable suburbs of Paris during the imperial era of Napoleon III. She is the daughter of a worker who, after an accident at work, drowns his sorrows in alcohol, and a laundress who, to face poverty, turns to prostitution. Barely a teenager, the beautiful Naná runs away from her family, drawn to the joy of worldly life; and quickly—with her irresistible beauty serving a devouring desire for luxury and dissipation—she embarks on a tumultuous social career: first in the demi-monde of the dandy types, and then in the grand-monde of finance and the Parisian aristocracy of the time.

The novel is steeped in destructiveness. Naná feeds on the promises of love and her voluptuous offers of her person—offers that are, in reality, predatory, and which she later contradicts, the moment they seem to provide satisfaction. The protagonist unleashes uncontrollable passions, which surpass all limits and, fatally, transform Eros into Thanatos. While she presents herself as a goddess of love, Naná is incapable of loving because for her, "love was something silly and led nowhere."

It is the story of a beautiful seductress, with an angelic and demonic appearance, devouring men and fortunes, obsessed with unrestrained and compulsive sexuality, far from being genuinely free. The story begins in a decadent operetta stage, both real and symbolic. Through this obsession, Naná consumes herself.

The atmosphere, therefore, is not one of the simplicity of romantic love and pleasure satisfied by its manifestation, but rather one of sexual seduction as a means of manipulating an insatiable, increasingly destructive and contagious thirst, which reaches its peak at the end of the novel with Naná’s death from smallpox as the war cries flood the streets of France, foreshadowing the ruin of the collective.

The novel begins with the first stages of the protagonist’s social ascent. At barely eighteen, the manager of the Théâtre Variétés, who had met her in a brothel, gives her the role of Venus in the operetta of the same name. He does not choose her for her artistic talent but for the sensual attraction she exudes, for her captivating seduction. Naná performs and sings poorly, but "that fat girl who slapped her thighs, who clucked like a chicken, exhaled a scent of life around her, a womanly power that left everyone mesmerized. [...] She needed only to turn around and laugh to elicit applause from the audience."

The public debut happens at a time when Naná is the "kept woman" of two men who alternate in her bed, in addition to other occasional lovers. She has a two-year-old son, initially entrusted to a nanny and later to an aunt. The boy is graceful and silent, almost a little shadow compared to the suffocating maternal fervor. But he is the only being for whom the protagonist feels something close to tenderness, a feeling from which the terrible experience of her childhood has alienated her.

Naná lives in frivolous comfort, assisted by Zoé, a loyal collaborator who manages her love affairs and protects her from creditors. Despite the increasing luxury, debt collectors frequently knock at her door because Naná dissipates every fortune deposited at her feet. She takes it all in a breath, making a mockery of those who belong to her, because "she loved to make men wait."

The pages dedicated to a gala dinner Naná organizes after the theater, to trap the rich Count Muffat in her net, are particularly important because they reveal the character traits of the protagonist. During the dinner, which lasts until the morning, waves of guests, drawn by Naná’s libertine fame, arrive. As the night progresses among food and wine, the guests’ behavior becomes increasingly transgressive. A fundamental theme of the novel is outlined: sensuality without scruples, incapable of transforming into love, represented by Naná and her entourage, is dissociated from other aspects of life and, consequently, venerated as lust. In an environment of hypocritical and puritanical moralism, Naná becomes an idol, the living embodiment of a fragmented condition to which her victims immolate themselves.

The relationship with the restrained chamberlain of the empress, Count Muffat, who, along with his wife, is the most important exponent of Parisian aristocracy at the time, is the paradigm of this type of fatal submission. His religiosity, proud of his social position but filled with fear and guilt, will not save them from the ruin that Naná represents.

In the licentious ostentation—which is only a miserable caricature of freedom—of his compulsive transgression, the Sexual subtype of the Enneagram E2 hides repression and compresses strong emotions. To avoid feeling the inferiority caused by envy, it self-exalts as the axis mundi. To avoid fear and pain, it mocks them. To hide the feeling of guilt, it avoids commitments and responsibilities. To not feel genuine anger, it becomes sensitive. To not feel the thirst for love, it devours and dissipates. To avoid the importance that could arise from contact with intimate and authentic needs, it displays a completely deceptive emotional self-sufficiency. The final result is histrionics because emotions and feelings are merely dramatized, not truly felt—they are touched enough to be represented on the social and relational stage like a mediocre actor.

Returning to Zola’s novel, the pages dedicated to the dinner at Naná's house contain the gestalt of this type of character, both in terms of its traits—i.e., personal aspects—and the context that allows it to manifest—i.e., the collective aspects. During the dinner, which officially celebrates the debut of the blonde Venus on the theatrical and social scene, the protagonist exhibits a seemingly minor character trait, but one that will recur often throughout the novel and is worth noting: the sudden variability of her mood. From cheerful, uninhibited, and flattering, Naná unexpectedly transforms into an angry, combative, and sometimes weepy woman. The abrupt mood and behavioral change seems to be an impulsive response to two types of situations: first, when she loses the center of attention; second, when she is reminded of a responsibility. It is typical of this character not to tolerate either of these. One opens the doors to a deadly feeling of annihilation, and the other, to inadequacy, both of which are emotionally unbearable. A consoling word or a withdrawal of reproach is enough to restore her, arrogantly magnanimous, to good humor.

These paragraphs, where her arrogant haughtiness is evident, are descriptive: "Then, when they forgot Naná again, Vandeuvres discovered Daguenes, who was peeking from a door and beckoning him. And in the bedroom, he found the lady of the house sitting, rigid, her lips white, while Daguenes and Georges, perplexed, stared at her. 'What is it?' asked the count, surprised. She didn’t answer, not even turning her head. He repeated his question. 'What I have,' she shouted, 'is that I don't want them to mock me in my own house!' Then she let out a stream of curses. Yes, yes, she was no fool, and she saw it clearly. They had mocked her during dinner, saying outrageous things to show their contempt for her. 'A bunch of swine who couldn’t even reach the soles of my shoes! I had gone out of my way to entertain them, so they could tear me to pieces immediately. I still don't know what is keeping me from kicking all those bastards out.' And, choking on anger, her voice broke into sobs."

when describing how he felt overwhelmed by terror in the face of Naná’s sensual magnetism, unable to resist her, Zola uses the uncertainty of his steps on stage, the unease caused by the open hatches leading to the dark underground, the suffocation from the warm air of the corridors leading to the dressing rooms, the smells of perfumes and breath, the carnal temptations from the sounds of female bodies rinsing and the laughs and chatter, the progressive vertigo of his pious restraint, and the whirlpool of ruin that will drag him down. But the count will only be one of Naná’s victims, destined by his fortune and position at the top of Parisian aristocracy.

As a counterpoint, Naná has the young Georges, a bourgeois adolescent without personal belongings but full of youth and naïve adoration for her. For Naná, Georges is a sweet toy whom she tenderly calls Zizí, allowing her to take on the role of the experienced and indulgent woman, who protects him from everything except from herself, while feeling filled with virginal fantasies, untouched and sentimental like a teenager with her first love.

Naná, in the arms of the young man, finds herself again at fifteen. Under the caresses of that adolescence, a flower of love blooms in her, between the habit and the weariness of the man. She is overwhelmed by sudden blushes, an emotion that leaves her trembling, a need to laugh and cry, a whole restless virginity, crossed by desires that embarrass her. She had never felt anything like this.

Naná plays with her Zizi with a tender and reciprocal babble that lasts as long as a breath, alternating with other, more remunerative encounters, like with Count Muffat or banker Steiner, who had gifted her a luxurious country house.

Next, part of the seduction scene between Naná and Georges, in which, manipulatively, she assumes the role of the seduced woman.

Georges, however, gave her sweet kisses on the neck, which increased her confusion. With a trembling hand, she rejected him like a child who tires her with his tenderness and said he should leave. [...] Then a little bird sang and stopped immediately. [...] Then, listening to the robin, while the boy embraced her, Naná remembered... Yes, it was in novels where she had seen all that. In another time, she would have given her heart to have such a moon, and robins, and a little man in love. My God! She would have cried, it was so beautiful and pleasant. Surely, she had been born to live decently. She rejected Georges, who grew passionate.

—No; leave me, I don’t want to... It would be an infamy at your age... Listen, I’ll be your other mother.

She felt shame. She was as red as a beet. [...] She had never felt such embarrassment. Little by little, she felt weak, despite her scruples and refusals. [...]

—Oh, no... It can’t be, it can’t be —she murmured after a final effort.

And she fell like a virgin into the arms of that adolescent, in front of the beautiful night.

The relationship with young Georges leads Naná to fantasize with his virginal freshness, far from the violent misery of the poor house where she spent her childhood, amid her father’s alcoholism and her mother’s prostitution.

This seduction scene is preceded by another where Naná dresses Georges in one of her nightgowns, feminizing him. In fact, Naná feels deep contempt for men, which allows her to humiliate them.

arise from contact with intimate and authentic needs, it displays a completely deceptive emotional self-sufficiency. The final result is histrionics because emotions and feelings are merely dramatized, not truly felt—they are touched enough to be represented on the social and relational stage like a mediocre actor.

It is extraordinary, in the first part of the novel, how the author uses the theatrical environment as a metaphorical counterpoint to the inauthenticity and ego trap of the different characters entering the scene. Thus, in the sharp introduction of Count Muffat, when describing how he felt overwhelmed by terror in the face of Naná’s sensual magnetism, unable to resist her, Zola uses the uncertainty of his steps on stage, the unease caused by the open hatches leading to the dark underground, the suffocation from the warm air of the corridors leading to the dressing rooms, the smells of perfumes and breath, the carnal temptations from the sounds of female bodies rinsing and the laughs and chatter, the progressive vertigo of his pious restraint, and the whirlpool of ruin that will

drag him down. But the count will only be one of Naná’s victims, destined by his fortune and position at the top of Parisian aristocracy.

Next, part of the seduction scene between Naná and Georges, in which, manipulatively, she assumes the role of the seduced woman.

—No; leave me, I don’t want to... It would be an infamy at your age... Listen, I’ll be your other mother.

She felt shame. She was as red as a beet. [...] She had never felt such embarrassment. Little by little, she felt weak, despite her scruples and refusals. [...]

—Oh, no... It can’t be, it can’t be —she murmured after a final effort.

And she fell like a virgin into the arms of that adolescent, in front of the beautiful night.

This seduction scene is preceded by another where Naná dresses Georges in one of her nightgowns, feminizing him. In fact, Naná feels deep contempt for men, which allows her to humiliate them.

While cultivating her sentimental fantasies, she skillfully uses deceit and lies to maintain a certain number of rich lovers who guarantee her luxury and excess, that compulsive and defensive abundance that characterizes her.

Through fervent imagination, Naná theatrically changes the characters with whom she identifies without integrating them, in an emblematic way for this character: An adolescent intoxicated by pure love, a femme fatale devouring men and fortunes, an impulsive mother, a devoted lover, a cynical speculator, a loyal friend, etc. However, while she seems to donate love, her desires lack pleasure; they have nothing to do with love but with the triumph of her narcissistic arrogance.

Naná is not in love with anyone, except herself.

One of Naná’s pleasures was to undress in front of the mirror in her wardrobe, where she could see herself from head to toe. She would drop the shirt; then, completely naked, she would forget about everything else and gaze at herself for a long time. It was a passion for her body, a rapture for the smoothness of her skin and the undulating line of her waist, and she would become dazed and absorbed in a love for herself.

The romantic relationship lasts as long as it takes to financially exploit and psychologically annihilate each man who falls for her flattery. But the inner fire that ignites Naná does not seem driven by a hunger for material possessions, which she actually dissipates, but by her obsession to corroborate her superiority, her triumph over men or women, her excessive attitude in a true narcissistic delirium.

And as soon as she finds a man who, even benefiting from her favors, does not submit to her, here she is, a willing slave to the pleasure of the other, intoxicated by the equally narcissistic fantasies of an absolute love, now self-annihilating. Annihilation must exist; either of the other or of herself.

Chapter VIII starts with Naná in the role of a devoted lover. With the offensive impulsivity of an arrogant queen, Naná disposes of her two wealthiest lovers and decides to refresh "her old idea of being a florist" through an unexpected and impulsive infatuation with Fontan, a comic actor at the Variétés. She quickly sells what she can, loses her tracks to

creditors and lovers, and settles with Fontan in two furnished rooms, displaying a loving rapture imbued with sweet affected simplicity and false modesty.

However, Fontan soon demonstrates the vulgar violence characteristic of him. They begin a pattern of arguments, slaps, and reconciliations, in a crescendo of unchecked violence. But the mistreatment increases Naná’s ever more passionate self-sacrifice. When Fontan, in addition to humiliating her in every possible way, steals her last penny and expects the table to always be set, she prefers, to not lose him, to return secretly to the street.

"And the more [Fontan] mistreated her, the firmer she remained, savoring a bitter delight in that heroism of her whim, which made him more grand and loving in her own eyes. Since she went with others to maintain him, she loved him more, with all the fatigue and disgust that it brought. He became her vice, which she paid for; her need, which she could not do without under the sting of the slaps."

But one day Naná sees Fontan with another woman; and she does not accept rivals... Her love vanishes suddenly, leaving no trace. She abandons Fontan and coldly calculates a cunning strategy to rekindle the passion of Count Muffat, whom she had previously abandoned after insulting and humiliating him by revealing the infidelity of his wife. She achieves her goal and returns to her life as a kept woman of luxury, imitated by other women and desired by men.

Then Naná became an elegant woman, a rentier of men’s foolishness and lasciviousness, and a marquise of the luxurious sidewalks. It was a sharp and definitive rise.

Soon, she reigned among the most sought-after women. Her photographs were displayed in shop windows, and she was mentioned in the newspapers. When she drove through the boulevards in her car, people turned around and named her with the excitement of a crowd hailing their sovereign, while, familiarly reclining in her airy headdresses, she smiled jovially, under the rain of golden curls falling into the blue circle of her eyes and the vermilion of her lips.

"This fat prostitute, so clumsy on stage, so graceful when pretending to be an honest woman, effortlessly played the role of a charming woman in the city. It was snake-like flexibility, a studied undressing, almost involuntary, of exquisite elegance; a nervous distinction of a pedigree cat, an aristocracy of vice, proud, chaotic, putting her foot down on Paris as the all-powerful owner."

In exchange for a guarantee of incredible luxury, Count Muffat obtains from Naná a promise of fidelity: she must be only his. An obviously false promise; she loves luxury and excess too much. She has many lovers, playing the role of the wronged woman when anyone doubts her loyalty.

However, in her luxury and in the midst of that court, Naná was royally bored. She had men for every minute of the night, and money even in the drawers of her vanity, among the combs and brushes, but this did not satisfy her, and she felt an emptiness somewhere, a hole that made her yawn.

Zola emphasizes several times throughout the novel that sense of emptiness that grips the protagonist, that original deprivation that material wealth will never fill. A deprivation that reflects the emotional deprivation experienced during a miserable childhood and that is confirmed, once again, by frequenting the even more sordid environment of a high society that is insensitive, hypocritical, and corrupted by the power of luxury.

Dissatisfied and in search of the intoxication of strong stimuli, Naná adds to her loves a stormy homosexual relationship with a friend with whom she frequented brothels and the streets, subjugating her with luxurious gifts and demanding infinite gratitude in return. Regarding her lovers, she invades their personal lives, stirring their confidences with an attitude of indulgent receptivity. Thus, a typical attitude of this character emerges: to involve herself in the affairs of others with an attitude that seems impartial and benevolent, but which is, in fact, another way to narcissistically manifest her personal importance. Naná, through confidences, later claims the right to create intrigues to arrange marriages, break relationships, ruin fortunes, or corrupt prestigious positions in her pursuit to "possess everything to destroy it all."

But the destructiveness of Naná and the aristocratic society she nests in, as a reciprocal reflection, begins to prevail over the glory. The following pages describe that destructive loss of control. Among Naná’s lovers, some commit suicide, some end up in prison, some go bankrupt, and others destroy their families due to the passions she ignites with the haughty indifference of her voracity.

However, the target of Naná’s punitive rage against high society is Count Muffat. He, in fact, is not only the greatest financier of her extravagant whims; he is more than an aristocrat—he is the chamberlain of the emperor. Though she squeezes him dry, driving him to his complete ruin (and that of his family), Naná behaves as though she is giving him everything, when in reality, she is only receiving inconvenience and ingratitude. She subjects him to increasingly harsh humiliations, and this, in Muffat, is tied to his guilty conscience. His obsessive desire for Naná leads him to the depths of his shadow, to the other side of his prestigious, austere, and moderate self-image. The relationship increasingly degrades, and on a sexual level, he develops sadomasochism (the turn of E2 toward E8 and of E1 toward E4).

At a certain moment, Naná realizes that everything around her is disintegrating. But she immediately suppresses that small light of awareness to reinforce the attitude of one who

prides themselves on giving much and receiving ingratitude, and to reject assuming any type of responsibility.

The misfortunes she feels around her, the miseries she has committed, drown her in a warm and constant wave of tenderness, and her voice is lost in a dull, childish complaint:

“I feel bad, I feel bad... I can’t go on; it’s choking me... It’s too hard not to be understood, to see how others turn against you because they are stronger... But when there is nothing to reproach, when you have a clean conscience... Well, no, no! [..] Well no! They’ll say whatever they want, but it’s not my fault. Am I bad? I give all I have, I wouldn’t hurt a fly... It’s them; yes, it’s them... I never wanted to be unpleasant to them. And they’ve clung to my skirts, and there they are, bursting, begging, and throwing themselves into despair... Look, and now I can tell you: when I was with them, you know, they didn’t amuse me, nor did they give me pleasure. It pissed me off, I swear... And they’ve crushed me. Without them, darling, without what they’ve made of me, I would be in a convent praying to God, because I’ve always been religious... And that’s it!”

With one of her impulsive but clever gestures, and considering that there is nothing left for her to devour in Paris, she sells everything and, filled with treasures and legendary fame, heads toward exotic destinations. It is known that she lived in Cairo, and later in Russia.

After a long time, she unexpectedly returns to Paris and finds her son, who has been living with the aunt and is dying from smallpox. When he dies, she leaps toward the aunt, accusing her of neglect and abandonment.

But her irresponsible rage lasts little: she contracts the disease and dies disfigured in a few days in a room at the Grand Hotel, while the first voices of war that will mark the end of Napoleon III's empire can be heard outside. She dies in the decay of her flesh, amidst the murmur of an unbelieving crowd, at the end of a legend, with the suitcases filled with her last riches still closed.

A Cinematic Example Liubov Andrevna

From The Cherry Orchard by Anton Chekhov By Consuelo Trujillo

Almost three years ago, I had the opportunity to perform in this play in a small theater in Madrid. And since the season lasted for six months, it gave me the chance to explore the intricacies of the character and delve into the cause of her suffering. When you portray a character, your work consists of emptying yourself to become even more yourself in the

character, so that the character can break free from the tangled ego and express itself with freedom and purity. Thus, the more you detach, the more you know them; the more you open your view of life, the more you can immerse yourself in its lights and shadows, unravel their pain and desire, and dare to embody them with lightness, humor, and compassion.

In this journey, I found myself searching for Liubov Andrevna, a daughter of landowners and the owner of The Cherry Orchard, wondering what the essential trait of her character would be, the passion that dominated her, that constituted her existence and caused so much suffering around her. In this writing, I will try to express what I uncovered about her inner motivation, her madness, her hunger for love, and how her pride prevented her from receiving it, pushing her further from herself and everything that could help her recover her home, her essence, and her garden.

Chekhov wrote this character with the intention of having his wife, Olga Skiper—first actress of the Moscow Art Theater—portray her, which indeed happened. And I sense, from what I’ve read about her and the correspondence they maintained, that many of her character traits (such as her expressive freedom, histrionics, cheerful, egocentric, and seductive nature, that enveloping and sometimes unconscious femininity that so attracted Chekhov) inspired him when writing the character of Liubov.

Chekhov took as inspiration the spirit of the Russian landed nobility in the 19th century: a lifestyle in decline, people who lived on their once-prosperous estates without accepting the downfall of an era. He wanted to write a lighthearted work, perhaps to escape the sadness of his life. But little by little, we don’t know how, The Cherry Orchard turned into a drama. Everything in it breathes the scent of death. Chekhov sets on stage ruined nobles, an admirable estate destined for destruction, and presents his protagonist (the fascinating, attractive, and proud owner of the orchard, the admired landowner) as someone already battered by the blows of life, abandoned by a younger man, ruined, and on the verge of losing the most beautiful property in the region.

The translation of the title of the play is not exact, as it is not a garden notable for its cherries, but rather a thousand-hectare orchard, as indicated by the character Lopakhin in the first act. It is not even cherries (which do not withstand the harsh Russian climate), but rather sour cherries. Chekhov wrote it during the summer of 1902, and it premiered at the Moscow Art Theater on January 17, 1904, with Olga Skiper as Liubov Andrevna, the owner of the orchard, and Konstantin Stanislavski, the great master, playing the role of Lopakhin, the former mujik (a Russian peasant who owned no property and lived as a serf) now rising economically and socially.

The play begins with Liubov’s return to the estate one early spring morning, when the sour cherries begin to bloom, after spending five years in Paris. There, she lived a dissolute life, as the lover of a man whom she supported, losing her property and every last penny. Now,

she returns to her land, accompanied by her young daughter, Anya, who has come to bring her the news that they are about to lose their property if the interest is not paid.

In the first act, Liubov returns home, and we can already feel the emotional and histrionic outpouring of the character from her entrance. Everyone looks at her with admiration and fear of her excessive reactions, as tragedy looms: the possible loss of the house. The house where she was born, where she lived her childhood and youth, where she married, had children, lost her youngest child to drowning, and fled to meet her lover in Paris (leaving behind her mourning, her daughters, Anya and Varya, and the responsibilities regarding her property). All of this in the pursuit of love and the intensity that this forbidden love provided.

Next, one of her first speeches upon returning to the house, where she expresses so many intense emotions, effortlessly shifting from one to another in a seductive and falsely loving tone. Although, of course, she is convinced of the truth of her feelings:

"Is it possible that I’m the one sitting here?" (Rises) "I feel like jumping, like doing crazy things." (Burying her face in her hands) "And what if this were a dream? God knows I love my homeland, but from the train window I couldn't see anything. I cried all the way!" (Tears) "But anyway, the coffee must be finished. Thank you, Firs. Thank you, my dear old man. I’m so happy to find you alive!"

"No, I can’t stay sitting." (She abruptly stands up and starts pacing around the room) "My dear wardrobe! My little table!"

Her brother Leonid Gaev interrupts this scene of emotional exaltation, telling her that while she was away, the housekeeper died, to which she responds, without showing empathy: "I know. Rest in peace. I was told." Then she continues with her scene of love for the house, her objects, and her memories...

The theme of this first act is Liubov Andrevna's reunion with her home, her brother, her adopted daughter Varya (who manages the house and servants), her young daughter Anya (who came to fetch her in Paris and accompanied her on the return journey), close friends, and the people who work for her and are, therefore, under her care— as was common at that time.

She will soon receive the news that the interest has not been paid. And Lopakhin (a former servant, with a close relationship to Liubov, and a suitor of Varya, coming from a mujik background, who is becoming rich from his business ventures—he represents the emergence of a new social class in Russia, the small property owners) offers a solution to prevent them from losing their property: to divide the cherry orchard into plots to build

summer houses for rent, which would generate large profits, enough to settle the debt and more.

With Lopakhin, we see the beginning of the modern commercial and practical mindset, with land speculation and what it entails: the ease of making quick money and the destruction of nature. Here, two completely opposite views of life will collide.

Lopakhin: Naturally, some things will have to be removed... clean up a bit... For example, tear down these old buildings, this very house, as it’s worth nothing, and cut down the cherry orchard. Liubov Andrevna: Cut it down? Excuse me, dear, but you don’t understand anything about these things... If there’s anything interesting, even remarkable in our region, it’s our cherry orchard. Lopakhin: The only remarkable thing is its size. The trees bear fruit every other year, and what is harvested is useless because no one wants to buy it.

E2 worlds face off, and two characters:

1.Lopakhin has built himself from nothing and does not trust what life and his peers can offer him. He is used to working hard and earning everything with his effort. He knows how to invest and manage businesses. He does not mind destroying beauty to achieve his goals; he doesn’t think twice. 2.Liubov Andrevna belongs to the old Russian landowning class. She feels the pride of her class, the privilege of simply being who she is. She lives a life dedicated to charming others, feeling, exalting love for her lifestyle, her house, her memories, her lovers, her losses, her garden... She is a soul accustomed to contemplating beauty because she never had to work to live. In Liubov’s worldview, there is no common sense; there is only sensitivity and emotions, surrendering to the idealized love for her parents, her children, her lovers... She feels protected by her rank, her place in the world, by simply being who she is. She does not feel endangered, she does not believe anyone can take away the garden because it is hers, just as she never believed her son would die that way, that her lover would abandon her, that she would go bankrupt, and that her entire world would crumble.

The entire play is the story of her fall. The fall of a Russian social class embodied in this kind woman, attractive, loving, admired by everyone, warm, seductive, and powerful. The fall of a human being who never thought she could lose what she loved most: her love, her most precious treasure, her garden. In fact, the garden symbolizes that intimate, idealized paradise that pride feels it owns and clings to, feeling special. A place deep inside that no one can strip away from her. That place which, surely, no one understands: emotional, sacred, impossible to be violated, violated by the axe that cuts trees, tramples flowers, and strips the chosen ones of their untouchable privilege.

There is, in Liubov’s behavior, a lack of connection with reality, with the instinct of survival. She cannot conceive that her life (just like the garden) could be cut down... The crazy idea is: "If I love this garden with such intensity, no one will be able to take it away from me."

"My childhood. That time of innocence. I used to sleep in this room. From here, I looked at the orchard, and happiness woke up with me every morning. Nothing has changed. (Laughs with joy.) Everything, everything white. Ah, my garden! After a dark autumn and a cold winter! To be young again and feel full of happiness! The angels in heaven have never abandoned you! If I could get rid of the weight I carry in my heart and on my shoulders, if I could forget my past..."

Clinging to memories, to the idealized fantasy of what happiness once was to avoid suffering, the pain of loss, the limits of life. And yet, the weight is felt, the descent into reality is becoming inevitable, the encounter with loss, decay, and the end of youth.

While I portrayed Liubov, in that small theater, I sensed and wished for the rest that comes after surrender, the acceptance of reality, the ceasing to fight against giants... and I felt that Liubov desired this as well, even if she didn’t know it.

Lopakhin: [...] Sir, you have given us immense forests, boundless fields, the farthest horizons in the world, and we, who live here, should be giants.

Liubov Andrevna: And why giants? That’s fine in fairy tales, but in life, they would be scary.

We are in the second act, and the action takes place outdoors, amidst sour cherry trees, just before dusk. The atmosphere is tense, and they should have made a decision by now but still haven’t. Each passing day brings them closer to the moment of the auction. She knows she will lose the orchard, yet she remains paralyzed, unable to make a decision. In her mind persists the crazy idea that, in the end, a miracle will happen because it’s impossible to lose her beloved garden, because life cannot be so unfair to her, because this cannot happen to her. And in front of Lopakhin’s impotence (who tries to offer her a solution to save the estate), she opens her heart and responds:

"Please, don’t leave. I feel more at peace with you. I have a premonition of a tragedy. Like the house is about to fall on us. [...] I’ve thrown money around carelessly, like a madwoman, and I married a man who only knew one thing: to get into debt. My husband was killed by champagne! He drank so much! And I, to my misfortune, fell in love with another man and joined him, and that’s when I received my first punishment, like a blow to the head; my son drowned in the river. I left for abroad, intending never to return, never to see this place again. I closed my eyes, fled desperately, but he followed me, relentless and crude. He got sick there, and I bought a house in the countryside where I spent three years of my life without a moment of rest. I wasted away taking care of him day and night, and my soul

hardened. Last year, when I sold the house to pay the debts, I went to Paris, and there he took all my money and left me for another woman. I tried to poison myself. How stupid! What a shame! And then, suddenly, I felt this sudden longing, the desire to return to my house with my daughters. Lord, forgive my sins! Don’t punish me anymore! Today I received this telegram from Paris. He asks for forgiveness and begs me to return. It seems like I hear music."

This confession reveals the essential traits of her character. She feels guilty and needs to be understood in her shadow. At the same time, there is manipulation in presenting herself as a victim, in front of Lopakhin (the man closest to her, stronger and more powerful than the others). She admits her guilt for ruining her family by abandoning her daughters, not being with her son when he drowned because she was with her lover. But there is an excuse: she was trapped, driven mad, devoured by love. She feels like a victim of love; there is nothing she can do against this feeling that draws out both the best and the worst in her. She declares herself an addict. On the other hand, she presents herself as a savior, a nurse to her lover, a caretaker to be abandoned by him later.

In this act, we encounter a crucial event that affects the entire family and everyone working on the estate: we are less than two weeks away from the day the auction of the garden will take place. But what governs Liubov's behavior is the telegram she received from her lover.

Love is also an escape from reality. A disconnection, a way to avoid realizing that she is about to lose everything, that she has no money, that she is no longer a grand lady, that she is getting older, that the time has come... An escape forward, to distance herself from what she does not accept about herself, from frustration, from impotence, from limitation, from falling... And even though in this speech, she talks about her fall, about how she became a being stripped of dignity with that man, there is, however, pride: a resistance to fall, to bite the dust of defeat.

The theme of the play is, as we have discussed, the loss of the estate, the ruin of the protagonist due to poor management of her wealth, by living beyond her means. Liubov Andrevna’s individual problem is the symbol of this Russian aristocracy that always considered itself untouchable and is now on the verge of disappearing.

"I’ve always thrown money around like a madwoman..." This carelessness with money—which she confuses with false generosity—expresses arrogance and superiority (the overabundance characteristic of the Sexual 2), which translates into a: "I don’t need it." Feeling alive in the fullness, while those around her live with need and lack, which she will cover. This generosity is both an egocentric and narcissistic act, and at the same time, a lifeline to avoid feeling lack. It’s grotesque, even comical, to see how—at moments when the financial condition of Liubov and her family is evident—she spends, gives, and lends

money that she doesn’t have. There is more pleasure in spending and giving than in retaining and possessing.

For example, in the first act, Anya, the younger daughter, tells Varya, her adopted sister, how much she suffered on the trip from Paris to the Russian countryside due to her mother’s wasteful attitude, despite their dire economic situation: "She had already sold her country house near Menton and had nothing left. Nothing! And at the restaurant near the station, not only did she ask for the most expensive things, but she gave the waiter a ruble as a tip."

Later (when it becomes clear they are about to lose the estate), Pischik, a landowner friend, also in ruin, asks for a loan:

Pischik: "... I need two hundred and forty rubles to pay the interest." Liubov Andrevna: "I have no money, my friend." Pischik: "I’ll pay you back. It’s a small sum." Liubov Andrevna: "Well, let Leonid give them to you." Leonid: "Of course! I’m going to give them... That’s what you think!" Liubov Andrevna: "And what shall we do? Give them to him. He needs them. He will pay you back." (Exits) Leonid: "My sister continues with the habit of throwing money away."

This small scene clearly shows this compulsion to give, this inability to sustain her own lack. While she gives, she is not aware that she has nothing. She tells the young Petia Trofimov: "How old you’ve become! You’re older too, Leonid!" She can see the decay in others but not in herself. There is rebellion against limits, against lack. And there is also a guilt that is expressed histrionically and justified by unconsciousness, by "I can’t help it," by not taking responsibility for her actions and consequences, and therefore, not recognizing her capacity to change, to open her eyes, to learn from her mistakes:

"Yesterday I had a lot of money, and today I have hardly anything left. My poor Varya, because she didn’t spend, makes garlic soup every day, and I throw money away right and left. Why did I have to eat out? That restaurant was worthless."

Throughout the play, money is present, but in this second act, especially, it appears in a more mysterious way. Chekhov uses other senses and meanings to symbolically convey it.

Night falls, and the atmosphere is tense. "Suddenly, a sound comes from the sky. The distant sound of a string breaking. A noise that slowly fades away." At this noise, Liubov trembles, feeling fear, like a bad omen, a premonition. The elderly servant, Firs, says the same thing happened before the tragedy. He is not allowed to finish, but he is referring to the day her son drowned. Anya cries, not knowing why, and we sense the sensitivity of a

young soul that feels the love of life and its fragility. Then, a passerby appears, a beggar, slightly drunk...

Passerby: "Can you tell me if it’s allowed to pass here to reach the station?" Leonid: "Yes, go ahead. Take that path." Passerby: "I thank you very much." (Coughs.) "What beautiful weather!" (Declaring) "Oh, my brother, my suffering brother! Go to the Volga where the sobs..." (To Varya) "Miss! Would you help a hungry Russian with thirty kopecks?" (Varya, frightened, screams.) Lopakhin (angrily): "Toleration has its limits." Liubov Andrevna (dazed): "Here! Take this!" (Searching in her purse) "I have no silver, but it’s fine; take this gold coin." Passerby: "I thank you from the bottom of my heart!" (Exits. Laughter.) Varya (desperate): "I’m leaving, I’m leaving! But, mama! At home, the servants have nothing to eat, and you give him a gold coin!" Liubov Andrevna: "What do you want? I’m so foolish... As soon as we return, I’ll give him everything I have left. Lopakhin will lend me more, won’t he?" Lopakhin: "I’m at your service."

In the face of fear and omens, the representation of poverty in the beggar—before that dark tunnel she knows awaits her and from which she flees with all her strength—seems like she cannot be in the presence of lack, the beggar, the shadow that follows her. She cannot bear it. And, compulsively, she gives what she doesn’t have and then apologizes: "I’m so foolish..." She cannot sustain that moment when she and the beggar are the same and pulls out the coin she doesn’t have; that moment when she must acknowledge before Varya that she has erred and asks Lopakhin for another loan. And, in the background, the premonition of the misfortune she faced when she lost her son. She will lose the house; she will lose herself. She has received the telegram from her lover and now thinks of fleeing: he needs her.

And so, we enter the third act, the day of the auction, where she has no better idea than to throw a party and hire musicians she cannot pay. Everyone dances and drinks, there are magic tricks, it seems like a celebration, the farewell of a glorious life.

Liubov comments in a moment of realization: "This is really not the best time for music and dancing, but what can be done?"

She knows it. She expresses her fear and seeks refuge in Petia Trofimov, the young professor, to open her heart, to let the volcano of her emotions explode. That volcano is, from sister, friend... needing to keep being a good person, a good mother.

Liubov Andrevna: "This telegram is from Paris... That terrible man has fallen ill again, he asks for forgiveness and begs me to return... Who will take care of him there? Ah, what a

severe expression you have, Petia! But what am I supposed to do if he is sick? The poor man is alone, with no one to take care of him, to stop him from doing foolish things, to give him his medicine. And why hide it? Why keep quiet about it? I love him; yes, I love him. He’s like a stone hanging from my neck, pulling me to the bottom, but I love my stone and cannot live without it. Please don’t think badly of me! Don’t say anything!"

Petia Trofimov (with tears in his eyes): "Forgive my frankness, but that man has brought you to ruin."

Liubov Andrevna (covering her ears): "Don’t say that. No, no, no."

At the end of this act, Lopakhin, the former servant, arrives with the news that the property has been sold, and it was he who bought the cherry orchard. The servant is now the new owner. The loss of the orchard symbolizes the fall of pride, superiority, and privilege. It is also the farewell to the beauty that only the chosen ones, those with sensitivity, could appreciate. Now, the cherry trees will be cut down, and in their place, summer cottages will be built for rent, allowing the new owner to make a profit. Something that never crossed Liubov’s mind because she never believed she could lose something that had always belonged to her, her beautiful and proud essence.

If the third act is the representation of the fall of our protagonist, the fourth act is about how pride, though beaten, can rise again and adapt to new circumstances. Liubov will go to Paris to meet her lover.

Liubov Andrevna: "Yes, I look better, and I sleep better. It’s time. Daughter, we will see each other soon. I’m going to Paris until the money your grandmother sent me to recover the property runs out. But it won’t last long."

This detail is often overlooked, but the money she takes with her belongs to her daughter Ania; her grandmother sent it for her. So, while her mother spends the money in Paris with a lover, Ania, with benevolent innocence, talks about her future with hope:

Ania: "You’ll come back, Mom. Right? I’ll prepare for the high school exams and then work to help you... Come back soon, Mom."

Liubov loves her daughter, but she cannot sacrifice her life for her. She knows that the trip to Paris and the relationship will be a failure and that she will return again, without money, to seek refuge in Ania. But she can’t help it; she needs to feel desired, loved, and needed again. To live the intensity of that passion that keeps her alive. She knows it will be the last time; she’s getting older. She will return, and life will no longer make sense, and (like the garden) she will die.

There is only the farewell to the house that saw her born and to her garden. In the background, the sound of excavators demolishing the house and axes beginning to chop down the trees can be heard.

Liubov Andrevna: "Goodbye, dear old house. Winter will pass, and you will never see spring again..." She is speaking of herself... and continues to say goodbye: "It’s as if I’ve never seen these walls, these beams... And now I look at them with longing and tender love... Oh, my dear, my sweet, my wonderful garden! My life, my youth, my happiness! Goodbye, goodbye!"

It is the goodbye to what she always dreamed and believed her life would be. The goodbye to the ideal, to the dream of love, to eternity...

Liubov Andrevna: "Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye!"