ANTON CHEKHOV was the master of emotional exploration.

His creativity and understanding of romantic conflict is played out in The Seagull as a slice-of-life rather than a plot-driven play.

Headlong’s interpretation through director Blanche McIntyre feels uber-modern, with Laura Hopkins’ expressionistic set full of open space, a backdrop that has the quality of litmus paper and a long board that becomes a jetty, a table and rather oddly, a giant seesaw.

John Donnelly’s new version of the text is full of expletives and splashes of modern humour, but there really are no winners in this production as all the characters are miserable, unhappy humans.

Unrequited love and the melancholy of rejection theme and plot against each other; there are no winners, only different sorts of losers.

Alexander Cobb is a passionate yet desolate Konstantin, who cannot even find love from his own selfobsessed mother (a feisty Abigail Cruttenden) so he doesn’t really stand much chance with the gamine Nina (an excellent Pearl Chanda making her professional stage debut) Headlong’s interpretation was a little difficult to follow, and although the dialogue was sharp and always edgy and the actors all excellent, I was surprised I could laugh at such ignominious actions as masturbation and Nina’s left breast intentionally falling out of her costume.

The final suicidal moment also misfired; I didn’t care about the death, it actually came as something of a relief.

Until Saturday. Box office 0191-230-5151 and at northernstage.co.uk