The Cherry Orchard by Anton Chekhov in a reimagining by Gary Owen | Stage Review
****
Sherman Theatre, Cardiff Sat 28 Oct 2017
Where does grief go? How does nostalgia stack up against the forces of progress? Chekhov purists may not approve, but Sherman Theatre artistic director Rachel O’Riordan and playwright Gary Owen’s ‘re-imagining’ of Anton Chekhov’s The Cherry Orchard takes the central concerns of Chekhov’s play and re-fashions them for the end of the twentieth century. Owen manages to capture the sense of impending upheaval that pervades Chekhov’s original text whilst offering a re-contextualised setting, in this case West Wales in 1982, at a time of fervent political change with Thatcherism, the Falklands War and newly-enfranchised home owners buying council properties all key to the circumstances of setting and character.
Similar to the Volcano Theatre’s recent visceral adaptation of The Seagull, Owen dispenses with several characters from Chekhov’s text in order to focus on the relationships between characters. Here we focus on the returning matriarch Rainey, her daughters Anya and Valerie, her brother Gabriel and three outsiders connected to the family by love, duty and service: the upwardly socially-mobile Lewis, the former tutor-turned-socio-anarchist Ceri and the dutiful housekeeper Dottie. I may not have been the only audience member disappointed by the absence of the bumbling Yepikhodov or the ancient butler Firs, but can see the logic in Owen stripping out the formal hierarchy of late nineteenth-century class in favour of a focused exploration of the family’s ties and bonds.
Owen creates a believable and realistic portrait of a bickering family complete with their indiscretions and foibles, directed with sensitivity and precision by O’Riordan and backed up by an excellent ensemble cast. Denise Black as Rainey exudes disaffection and cynicism with every line; any moment of possible sentiment is immediately undercut by her brusque dismissal of emotional connection. Morfydd Clark as the young university student Anya displays the requisite levels of both innocence and worldliness, emotionally and sexually manipulating the firebrand Ceri, played by Richard Mylan as a schoolboy revolutionary, raging at the capitalist exploitation of the working classes. Their relationship mirrors that of Trofimov and Anya in Chekhov’s play, brought up to date by Anya’s sexual freedom and financial independence. The rest of the cast also shine with truthfulness; Hedydd Dylan as the frumpish Valerie conveys the world weariness of the eternal spinster, despite the family’s expectations of her eventual marriage to Matthew Bulgo’s Lewis. Bulgo’s performance as Lewis was the highlight of the evening as the bittersweet realisation that he can take ownership of a house and land that his family were evicted from becomes apparent. Simon Armstrong’s Gabriel is closest in temperament and demeanour to Chekhov’s original optimist Gayev, and Alexandria Riley as the droll housekeeper Dottie displays a powerful vulnerability as her livelihood is snatched away.
The design and lighting by Kenny Miller and Kevin Treacy reveal a worn-out living room in keeping with the ramshackle state of the character’s lives, and the ambient soundscape by Simon Slater was especially atmospheric at the points where the past invades the present. Perhaps the only element that jarred was the loud 1980s music that played during the scene changes – it just didn’t feel as organic to the staging as the rest of the design elements. The use of rock and pop music however did work when it was played as part of a scene, delightfully so in a couple of places.
The central plot points of the play – the arrival of Rainey/Ranevskaya from the city, the sale of the house and orchard and the final departure – are faithful to Chekhov, but O’Riordan and Owen save the best moment for the end. To quote the American writer Janet Malcolm on the play’s original form: “Death is the hinge on which the work swings”. O’Riordan and Owen remind us that Chekhov’s greatness lies in what is unsaid, and that deep and powerful memories from the past are sometimes all that’s left when everything else is stripped away.
words ALEX WREN