The downward spiral of once-wealthy people who can no longer pay their mortgage, or even the interest on it, has a disturbingly contemporary resonance. Yet that exact situation was described with both pathos and humor by Anton Chekhov in 1903, in his final masterpiece, "The Cherry Orchard," a play about the late 19th-century collapse of the Russian aristocracy some decades after the peasants had been freed.
Andrei Belgrader directs a multidimensional, energetic revival of Chekhov's heartbreaking satire about the inability of many in the upper class to adapt to changing times, with John Christopher Jones' spirited translation and an excellent cast quite able to convey complex characterizations. The madcap and moody production, which opened Sunday night off-Broadway at Classic Stage Company, is the fourth and final play in CSC's Chekhov Initiative, which began in 2008 with "The Seagull."
Self-made merchant Ermolai Lopakhin is aghast at the impractical attitudes of the aristocratic Russian siblings whose family has for generations owned the estate and lovely cherry orchard where he grew up. In turn, the landowners are bemused that former serfs like Lopakhin are now amassing fortunes.
John Turturro is ingratiating and vigorous as Lopakhin, earnestly trying to press some last-ditch financial sense upon the oblivious aristocrats when the family gathers at their ancestral home to face the auction of their beloved but indebted estate.
The estimable Daniel Davis and two-time Academy Award-winner Dianne Wiest both give touching performances, by turns comical and poignant, as inept estate owners Leonid Gaev and his sister, Mme. Lubov Ranevskaya, who tragically persist in their unfounded optimism that some miracle will save their cherished family property.
Wiest, endearingly fluttery, adeptly flits between comedy and tragedy, registering an array of emotions along the way. Her interpretation of spendthrift Ranevskaya, prone to theatricality and delicately self-absorbed, adds great depth and poignancy to her dialogue and to some of Chekhov's famous silences. Davis provides an enjoyably addled portrayal of her goodhearted but prattling brother.
Turturro ably displays the dimensions of Lopakhin's complicated relationship with the family: resentful of the former lowly position of his own family, yet grateful for the nobility's kindness to him over the years. Turturro bounds energetically amid the family members, easily conveying Lopakhin's eagerness to help them out and his exasperation at their inaction. He's especially effective in the dynamic post-auction scene, where his Lopakhin cannot conceal a mixture of triumph, erupting anger and bewilderment, still tinged with a lifetime of ingrained respect, as the family learns their home is now his.
Belgrader enhances Chekhov's treatment of intimate emotions with both humor and despair in many colorful moments. One such treat is a scene where Lopakhin seems on the verge of making a long-awaited marriage proposal to Lubov's discouraged older daughter, Varya, (a fretful yet grounded characterization by Juliet Rylance). The pair performs a delicate farce of expectation and disappointment, as her future hangs in the balance while he repeatedly fails to get the words out.
Katherine Waterston is fresh and enchanting as Lubov's seventeen-year-old daughter, Anya. Slate Holmgren gives a lusty vulgarity to wily servant Yasha, and Alvin Epstein dodders around with whimsical dignity as Fiers, an elderly family retainer. Josh Hamilton is charmingly thick-headed as perpetual student and tutor Petya Trofimov.
Engaging performances are also provided by Elisabeth Waterston as naive maid Dunyasha, Roberta Maxwell as eccentric governess/magician Charlotta, and Ken Cheeseman as the sponging, absurdly fortunate landowner Boris Pischik. Michael Urie is entertaining, if a trifle over the top, as Epikhodov, a hapless household clerk.
Set designer Santo Loquasto covers the circular stage with a filthy-looking, suede-like fabric, apparently referencing the decay of the once-powerful aristocracy. You can't turn back, the path's grown over," Trofimov sensibly tells Lubova, as he and Anya happiliy set off on the younger generation's enthusiastic dash toward their uncertain futures.
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Online:
http://classicstage.org/