'The Cherry Orchard' Feeds the Senses, Nourishes the Soul

Kate Burton in

The Cherry Orchard by Anton Chekhov

In a new translation by Richard Nelson  

Directed by Nicholas Martin

Scenic Design, Ralph Funicello; Costume Design, Robert Morgan; Lighting Design, Donald Holder; Sound Design, Drew Levy; Original Music, Michael Friedman; Casting Director, Jay Binder/Jack Bowdan; Production Stage Manager, Stephen M. Kaus; Stage Manager, Eileen Ryan Kelly

CAST (in order of appearance)

Will LeBow    Lopakin, a merchant

Jessica Dickey    Dunyasha, a maid

Jeremy Beck    Yephikhodov, a clerk

Kate Burton    Ranevskaya, a landowner

Jessica Rothenberg    Anya, her daughter

Mark Blum    Gaev, her brother

Sarah Hudnut    Varya, her adopted daughter

Jeremiah Kissel    Pishchik, a landowner

Joyce Van Patten    Charlotta, a governess

Gene Farber    Yasha, a young footman

Dick Latessa    Firs, an old servant

Enver Gjokaj    Trofimov, a student

Robert Bonotto    A tramp

Patrick Lynch    The Station Master

Performances through February 4, 2007 at The Huntington Theatre Company      Box Office 617-266-0800 -or- www.huntingtontheatre.org

Kate Burton is the marquee name, but the Huntington Theatre Company and Director Nicholas Martin have assembled a talented ensemble to mount a stellar production of Anton Chekhov's The Cherry Orchard.  The cast and designers join forces for a solid, professional, and esthetically pleasing theatre experience.

When the curtain rises to reveal the nursery in Madame Ranevskaya's estate, there is an immediate connection from the eye to the world we are about to enter, thanks to Ralph Funicello's magnificent set.  The rear wall is comprised of three French doors draped with sheers and topped with palladium windows.  The early morning light seeps into the room and entices the audience with a view to the trees beyond.  Stately columns flank the space like bookends and convey its once regal stature.

Moments later, in sweeps a parade of characters and luggage just ahead of the grande dame of the manor, Lyubov Andreevna (Lyuba) Ranevskaya (Burton), at once happy and tearful.  With her daughter Anya and the governess Charlotta, she is returning to her Moscow home after five years in Paris following the drowning death of her young son Grisha.  While Lyuba lived extravagantly abroad, her adopted daughter Varya, brother Gaev, and the house staff struggled to maintain the mansion.  All turn out to greet her along with Lopakin, a peasant turned wealthy merchant, and Trofimov, the perpetual student who had been Grisha's tutor.  After running out of money, she has come home to deal with her grief and face the imminent loss of the estate.

Act One sets everything up nicely by introducing each of the characters and their story arcs, as well as alluding to the back-story.  Prior to the accidental death of her son, Ranevskaya's husband died of drink and she began an affair.  Her lover pursued her when she left the country and they lived together, first in Menton where he fell ill and she nursed him, then in Paris where he stole her money and abandoned her.  Anya and the governess were sent to retrieve her mother and the action of the play begins in May, 1904. 

The Cherry Orchard is considered to be a comic masterpiece, yet grief is the thread that sews all of its parts together.  In addition to the lingering specter of Grisha, the auction of the estate and orchard looms in the not too distant future.  While Lyuba and Gaev fret and hope to produce a miracle, they disregard the practical advice Lopakin offers which could actually allow them to keep their home.  He is the ant to their grasshoppers and Will LeBow convincingly portrays his frustration that he is unable to get them to pay heed.  However, the siblings are stuck in the past, mired in their grief, and overwhelmed to the point of not being able to see the forest for the trees.  All of their memories, glories, hopes, and dreams are woven into the stand of trees that is the cherry orchard.  The irony is that their inertia results in an irrevocable, and unwanted, outcome.

Much of the comedy inherent in the play comes from the relationships and romances.  Everyone assumes that Varya and Lopakin will marry, but he never seems to get around to proposing.  Dunyasha the maid dallies with Yephikhov, the accident-prone clerk, and Yasha, the mistress' footman.  As the former, Jeremy Beck is master of the pratfall and evokes both laughs and sympathy from the audience.  Gene Farber as the latter is a formidable challenger to him for Dunyasha's affections and Jessica Dickey plays the capricious role well.  There is greater sweetness in the connection between Anya and Trofimov as they begin to see each other as more than student and teacher. 

Mark Blum's Gaev treads a fine line between sensitive, loving brother, and the buffoonish uncle tending to talk too much.  His speech to a 100-year-old bookcase in the first act borders on the ridiculous, yet provides an opportunity for Chekhov to insert a metaphor for virtue, hard work, and knowledge.  The old servant Firs, played with much dignity, charm, and resignation by the veteran actor Dick Latessa, shuffles around the estate trying to look after Gaev as if he were still a boy.  Perhaps more than anyone or anything else, Firs represents the past and present of not only the estate, but Russia, as well.

In contrast to the old man and her mother and uncle, Anya and her new beau are the harbingers of the future.  Like Perchik in Fiddler on the Roof, Trofimov is an idealist who plans to be in the forefront of the revolution, helping to create a new Russia that exists for everyone.  Enver Gjokaj spouts his convictions with force and sincerity.  Jessica Rothenberg is wide-eyed and optimistic, trying to convince her mother that things will be better in their new orchard.  As Varya, Sarah Hudnut appeals in a nuanced performance as the caring and responsible older sister who is torn between her desire to be married or to run away to the solitude of a convent.

In lesser roles, Joyce Van Patten and Jeremiah Kissel add Salt and Pepper to this delectable dish.  Despite their limited time on stage, they are both fully engaged in whatever is going on around them and show themselves as the pros they are.  The supporting troupe of younger actors, including several Boston University students, more than holds its own with the old hands.

Segue to the ultimate pro in this cast of all-stars.  Kate Burton dons the beautiful wardrobe of Ranevskaya and becomes the Russian aristocrat on the surface, but draws from her own life experience and well of emotions to show us this woman from all sides.  She is flighty and frivolous, lost and overwhelmed, happy and loving, and finally resigned, if not relieved, when all is resolved.  One of my favorite moments is near the end of Act Four when everyone is leaving the estate for the last time and Ranevskaya sits with Gaev for one more minute, to take notice of the walls and windows and share a collective memory.  Most of us can relate to the feelings involved in leave-taking, but with their expressions and their embrace in that scene, Burton and Blum convey a groundswell of emotions that washes over us like a warm summer rain.  They are spent and so are we. 

Another moment that is visually breathtaking occurs when the curtain goes up on Act Two and we get to see the cherry orchard illuminated by the setting sun like on a late September afternoon.  Credit goes to Donald Holder for creatively lighting the sets, and Robert Morgan's costumes also offer a feast for the eyes. 

A play is only as good as the writing allows it to be and this one is blessed with the Chekhov source material intelligently translated by Richard Nelson.  He retains the structure and intention of the author's original work while making it resonate with today's audience.  Bring in the talent of Nicholas Martin and all of the humor and pathos that Chekhov created is brought to life on the Huntington stage.  The play portrays daily life, the human drama, and that is drama enough.

 

 

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