‘Konstantin Gavrilovich shot himself.’
With that final gunshot, The Seagull by Anton Chekhov came to an end. Then, the curtain fell and the audience applauded enthusiastically, celebrating the performance of those young actors and actresses, set and costume designers, technicians and producers, who had just graduated from drama school.
As Konstantin Gavrilovich, they carried both expectations and anxieties towards their future as artists – would they find themselves in the spotlight at the forefront of new theatre forms or, on the other hand, would their artistic ambitions slowly fade away, fall on the fringes of stage?
Twenty years later, Miguel Fragata – one of those young actors – embarks on a journey to discover the fate of his colleagues and to uncover what became of his former classmates. Between the blurred lines of fiction and reality, Miguel tries to piece together their lives, imagining the sequel to the fourth act of Chekhov’s text. One More Seagull now emerges from this territory, where the stories of these artists and characters intertwine long after the curtain falls and the ‘end’ word is written.
