The Cavalier daily Wednesday, February 4, 1970 | ||
D.C. Theatre Review
Chekhov's 'Cherry Orchard' At Arena
By Steve Wells
Cavalier Daily Staff Writer
WASHINGTON - As I walked
through the lobby of Arena Stage
during one of the intermissions on
the opening night of their present
production of "The Cherry
Orchard," I thought back to their
preceding offering, "You Can't
Take It With You," and suddenly I
found myself drawing a rather
unusual comparison. I wondered at
the time whether the plays had
been staged successively with this
comparison in mind or whether it
was a coincidence or whether these
were merely the half-baked transmissions
from the brain of a tired
critic who had literally fought his
way to and through a city crippled
by an unexpected snowstorm in
order to do his job.
To understand my comparison,
you must first have at least a
surface understanding of "The
Cherry Orchard," which many of
you already have. Anton Chekhov's
play, which was first presented by
the Moscow Art Theatre in 1904, is
about changing times. Madame
Ranevskaya is a land owner whose
family has been high on the Russian
social scale for generations. Her
estate on which her beloved
cherry orchard lies - is also the
home of her daughter, Anya; her
brother, Andreyevitch; her adopted
daughter, Varya; a governess, Charlotta;
and, among others, a faithful
old valet named Fiers.
The problem that faces the
family is that the mortgage to the
estate must be paid or else the
property will be sold at auction. A
merchant who is a close friend
warns them of the impending
consequences, but he is ignored.
The family does not want to lose
their home, but to work to save it
would be unthinkable. In the end,
however, they are forced to move
and because they now have no
choice but to look to the future,
they leave all of their past behind.
In both Chekhov's drama and
Kaufman and Hart's comedy, large
families are the focus of attention.
In both, the families construct their
own little world in which they hide
from all that is not beautiful. And
in both, they are confronted by
reality, in one form or another,
which they dismiss with a laugh.
Kaufman and Hart's characters
come through the confrontation
intact and continue on their merry
way. But Chekhov's people are
overpowered by it to the extent
that their lives are greatly changed.
One play tells us to live as we like
and to enjoy life while we have it;
the other says that reality is
inescapable and must be faced and
accepted without compromise.
The Arena's production of "The
Cherry Orchard" is not up to theirs
of "You Can't Take It With You,"
but it still cannot be considered a
failure. The performance is competent
but low key in almost every
regard, except for some visual
techniques employed by director
Alfred Ryder, which are of consistently
high merit.
Mr. Ryder has encompassed the
stage (in the round) with venetian
blinds which effectively rise slowly
at the play's beginning and fall at
its end. It is a theatrical touch
which gives added dimension not
only to Leo Kerz' attractive set but
also to the play itself. Mr. Ryder
has also made good use of a revolve
for changes of scene and for
gracefully moving characters into
place. His staging is fast paced,
or at least as fast paced as Chekhov
will permit, for, as we all know,
Russians can be long winded and,
accordingly, this is a very loquacious
play.
In a director's note in the
program, Mr. Ryder says that he
has staged "The Cherry Orchard" as
both a comedy (as the author
himself would have it) and a
tragedy (which was Stanislavsky's
leaning when he directed it at the
Moscow Art Theatre). In his
attempt to convey humor, Mr.
Ryder has failed. There is simply
nothing funny on display here and
Mr. Ryder's forced efforts to create
physical humor are grossly out of
place. If there is anything funny in
"The Cherry Orchard" I dare say it
has been lost in the English
translation.
But the tragedy of the situation
has not been lost. It may not be as
emphatic in this production as in
others, but nevertheless, it is here.
We are shown people who are
helpless to help themselves because
they were never taught how, the
need had never arisen. It used to be
that only the socially elite attended
their parties; now, as Fiers observes,
almost anybody can come. The
cherry orchard used to be productive,
but now it is just a waste of
land, and when one of the characters
boasts a wooden bookcase
which has been in the family for
countless years, we become aware
that in this world only non-living
objects are not subject to change.
Thus, the tragedy is the family's
inevitable transition from one way
of life to another, from the
grandiose to the commonplace.
The only general complaint
which I have against the cast is an
inconsistency of accents. Some
speak with thick Russian ones
while others content themselves
with their natural ones. Worse still,
accents vary within single characters.
Other from this, the company
is, on the whole, satisfactory. Carol
Gustafson does not dominate as
Madame Ranevskaya but her interpretation
is one of considerable
understanding and endurable
strength. Robert Prosky as her
brother and, William Hansen as the
protective Fiers give the evening's
finest performances while Howard
Will, for the most part, does well
by his role of the merchant who
unintentionally purchases the estate.
Gloria Maddox offers a superb
characterization of Varya, in love
with the merchant but unable to
marry him because of class
difference. Pamela Dunlap portrays
the young and pretty Anya with
the enthusiasm of a high school girl
but with just a bit more range.
Richard Bauer's student, David
Darlow's young valet, Phyllis
Somerville's maid, Max Wright's
clerk, and Grayce Grant's Charlotta
are all plausible.
The production, which
continues through February 22nd,
may not be the most scintillating
treatment of Chekhov, but it is no
less than worthwhile.
The Cavalier daily Wednesday, February 4, 1970 | ||