Adeel Akhtar (left) as the wealthy merchant Lopakhin counsels the spendthrift Madame Ranevskaya (Nina Hoss) in Benedict Andrews’s new version of Anton Chekhov’s The Cherry Orchard.
Upon the 1904 opening of The Cherry Orchard, directed by Konstantin Stanislavski, Anton Chekhov notoriously fumed, “Stanislavski has ruined my play!” The playwright envisioned his work as a comedy with elements of farce, a stark contrast to the tragic conception of the renowned Moscow Art Theatre director. One wonders what these two artistic giants would think of the current interpretation now playing at St. Ann’s Warehouse. Adapted and directed by Benedict Andrews, this Donmar Warehouse production from London is spare, farcical, interactive, and grooves to an indie-music beat. While purists may scoff at this cheeky approach to Chekhov, this is a Cherry Orchard for our times.
Varya (Marli Siu) is Ranevskaya’s adopted daughter, who is secretly in love with Lopakhin.
Those unfamiliar with the play may have difficulty discerning the setting, which is takes place on a centuries-old Russian estate. The playing space and walls of the theater are covered with ostentatious carpeting suggesting both a bohemian rec room and an Eastern European drawing room. (Magda Willi designed the flamboyant sets.) There are few props, and at times, audience members are asked to embody pieces of furniture, such as an end table and a cherished bookcase.
The denizens of the estate represent a cross-section of the changing social class system of late-nineteenth century Russia. Madame Ranevskaya (Nina Hoss) is a profligate spendthrift, who has just returned from Paris with her teen-age daughter Anya (Sadie Soverall), and the family’s governess Charlotta (Sarah Amankwah). Ranevskaya clings to the family’s aristocratic status, symbolized by the estate’s immense but ultimately useless cherry orchard. Like his sister, Gaev (Michael Gould), who has overseen the estate, is nostalgic and unproductive, and is unable to provide any practical remedies for the family’s imminent bankruptcy.
Yepikhodov, played by Éanna Hardwicke, is clumsy and is perpetually unlucky and represents the downtrodden class. Photographs by Amir Hamja.
Only the successful entrepreneur Lopakhin (Adeel Akhtar), a son of former serfs, has a solution: to cut down the cherry orchard and build profitable summer cottages. Lopakhin may have risen to the top of the social ladder, but he cannot escape his inferior class position. As he bitterly explains, “It’s true my old man was one of the great unwashed. But look at me now. … I’m rich, filthy fucken rich, but scratch the surface and I’m peasant scum through and through.”
Although the characters blithely ignore the creeping economic and social peril, there is a lingering sense of foreboding. In a moment of rare reflectiveness, Ranevskaya says, “I have this constant feeling of impending disaster. That any moment the sky will come crashing down to— punish us for our sins.”
Andrews’s immersive staging implicates the audience directly and bridges the worlds of pre-revolution Russia with our own turbulent times. The houselights remain on throughout the performance, and audience members surround the stage, frequently becoming part of the action. Additionally, when they are not in scenes, the actors sit in the auditorium, so the distinctions between spectator and performer are blurred. (Merle Hensel’s modern-day clothing and James Farncombe’s subtle lighting accentuate the production’s immersive aspects.)
“As the hostess of this reeling affair, [Nina] Hoss is outstanding. ”
Perpetual student Trofimov (Daniel Monks) underscores the play’s contemporary relevance. He rails that “here in Russia—for now, at least—the masses are manipulated like puppets, they believe anything that reinforces their preconceived notions and biases, no matter how absurd or unfounded, and consequently, the most ignorant, corrupt and incompetent individuals rise to positions of power and influence while the truly intelligent and capable individuals are relegated to the sidelines.” The fiery monologue elicited cheers.
In the second act, the previously off-stage band (marvelously directed by Heidi Rodewald with propulsive music by May Kershaw and effective sound design by Brendan Aanes) assumes a prominent position. There are songs, dancing, and liberal use of a smoke machine. The hedonist party atmosphere inevitably gives way to the economic fallout that follows. This is Chekhov by way of Cabaret.
Ranevskaya embraces her hopeful and innocent daughter Anya (Sadie Soverall).
As the hostess of this reeling affair, Hoss is outstanding. She exudes vulnerability, particularly when she recalls her dead son and the glamorous life she used to live. Her immediate impulse to give away money is endearing, as is her self-effacing manner. She is well-matched by Akhtar, who adroitly couples capitalist greed with compassionate pragmatism.
The rest of the company is excellent, with fine work by Marli Siu as Ranevskaya’s adopted daughter, Karl Johnson as the heartbreaking and aging valet Firs, and Éanna Hardwicke as the walking-disaster clerk Yepikhodov.
Individuals hoping to glean a deeper understanding of Chekhov’s richly textured depiction of a society in transition will most likely be disappointed with this Cherry Orchard. Indeed, there were moments that felt like a soirée in which one has only a vague sense of who some of the other partygoers were. Yet, it is a party that’s not easy to forget.
The Donmar Warehouse production of The Cherry Orchard runs through April 27 at St. Ann’s Warehouse (45 Water St., Brooklyn). Evening performances are at 7:30 p.m. Tuesday through Saturday; matinees are at 2:00 p.m. Wednesday and Saturday and varying times on Sunday. For tickets and more information, visit stannswarehouse.org.
Playwright: Anton Chekhov
Adaptation & Direction: Benedict Andrews
Sets: Magda Willi
Costumes: Merle Hensel
Lighting: James Farncombe
Sound: Brendan Aanes
Music: May Kershaw
