Marina Carr’s new play 16 Possible Glimpses imagines scenes from Anton Chekhov’s life but begins with a vision of death. Dark-hooded, smiling, full of spiky wit, the embodied Dark Monk arrives a little too early, recalling the opening of By The Bog of Cats, when death’s spectre, The Ghost Fancier, arrives at sunrise instead of sunset to claim the tragic heroine Hester Swayne. Chekhov begs for five more years of life, but Death can only offer five minutes; enough time for scenes from Chekhov’s life to flash before his eyes: the 16 Possible Glimpses of the title.

At first glance, the twinning of Chekhov and Carr seems an unlikely one: the former is known for dramas of inaction, the latter for intense tragedies of almost melodramatic proportions. And indeed there is little of Carr’s trademark surreal brilliance in the 16 possible glimpses that she offers of Chekhov’s life, although there are flashes of her sin dark humour. Perhaps unsurprisingly, these are revealed most particularly in the exchanges between Chekhov and the Dark Monk who comes to claim him.

For the most part, however, Carr’s own dramatic agenda takes a back-seat to faithful exposition. Through an episodic series of scenes we meet the extraordinary Russian writer in various guises. There is Chekhov the doctor, nursing his dying brother; Chekhov the lover, addicted to pleasure, unwilling to settle down; Chekhov the traveller, returning from Siberian prison camps and Asian adventures. There is Chekhov the family man, loyal brother, son and breadwinner; Chekhov the reluctant patient, unwilling to acknowledge the extent of his illness; and finally, there is Chekhov the writer, scratching out successful stories and rejected plays at the kitchen table late into the night. Indeed it is in the scene between Chekhov and his fellow writer and good friend Tolstoy that we most clearly get a glimpse of Carr’s more personal agenda, as the writers’ exchange literary manifestos.  Patrick O’Kane is perfectly cast as the 'lazy southerner' Chekhov; the feisty, lusty peasant 'who has risen above his station'. Cathy Belton shows her sultry side as Chekhov’s wife, Olga. Catríona Ní Mhurchú plays the downtrodden Masha with a desperate trudge, while Gary Lilburn’s irreverent Tolstoy holds together the play’s most memorable scene.

Wayne Jordan’s elegant production reveals these imagined episodes  from Chekhov's life  through the use of a complex layered theatrical frame, juxtaposing live action, pre-recorded scenes, and intimate close-ups, which are provided by a live video feed that is manipulated by the actors. The visual layers are set in palimpsest upon a gossamer curtain that is pulled and drawn back across the stage to mark transitions between the scenes. Designer Naomi Wilkinson has provided a flocked wallpaper frame around the stage – like the border of television set – further distancing the audience, who are forced to peer into this world as if it is fishbowl. The soft-focus aesthetic of Hugh O’Conor’s audio-visual design is complemented by Sam Jackson’s stirring sentimental score, and the cinematic effect is often quite beautiful. However, set against the dramatic simplicity of Chekhov's own dramaturgy, the fussy technological intervention seems confused and unnecessary; an imposition of 21st century production values upon a 19th century world that needs no such high-tech elaboration.

The controlled  and unadorned exposition of Carr's play falters at the end, with several false encounters with the Black Monk undercutting the climax of the concluding scene. This final hesitancy confirms the confusion that seems to fuel the over-fussy aesthetic: no-one seems quite sure what 16 Possible Glimpses is about.  As a dramatic biography of one of the twentieth century’s greatest writers, it is neither thorough reconstruction nor true Chekhovian tribute, but as an original play, it has no driving substance of its own. 16 Possible Glimpses is an enjoyable production, occasionally very funny and often very beautiful, but it is ultimately a rather unsatisfying experience.

Sara Keating writes about theatre for The Irish Times and The Sunday Business Post.