8 June 2024 I 14:30 I Donmar Warehouse, London
⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐
Benedict Andrews' adaptation of The Cherry Orchard is polarising in every sense of the word. The challenges of one's culture are confronted, and what it means for this to be forcefully stripped away, in physical (Magda Willi's set) and emotional implications. 120 years after Chekhov's text was first published, the Donmar Warehouse's semi-contemporary vision removes displacement, as a modernist style presents family and heritage as time enduring in its consistency.
The attention to detail is subtle, but smart in Andrews' linear exploration of the text. For the first half of the production, technology through lighting and sound is notably abject, where besides a general wash, dialogue leads a sparse stage. Following the interval, more radical designs creep in to activate our senses, provoking a violent jump that heightens empathetic control. Especially in such an intimate venue, where an in-the-round space drives confrontation and vocal weight in opposing angles.
The audience are partially lit, forced to engage with the conversation. Sometimes comically, other times to observe us as participants in social change, the persistent acknowledgement keeps us alert. Rarely exiting the performance space, the actors speak with us (before Act One and during the interval), using a designated seat as their given entrance/exit. The level of dynamism is magnetic, where characters instantly burst to life, always a passive spectator when among the audience to enforce everyone as accountable.
Adeel Akhtar's Lopakhin induces a wonderment of both terror and sympathy through unsettling characterisations. His physical state is reckless and unpredictable, where a reclamation of his family's tortured history champions Lopakhin, a primitive performance to deliver a conflicting persona. These complicated roles are followed in Nina Hoss' Ranevskaya, a depleting matriarch who binds the soul of this production. Offering a rose-tinted view on privilege, we cannot help but be touched by the emotional value of her Cherry Orchard. Perhaps slightly antagonised in Andrews' vision, the vulnerability Hoss represents is understood with sheer compassion, regarding humanity as the crucial theme.
The important thing about this Chekhov play is a cast without a centre. Each individual impacts the ultimate outcome, where a stellar cast realises vastly contrasting personalities. From Daniel Monks' impassioned delivery in Trofimov's desperate plea to be heard, to June Watson's heart-breaking final moments, as Firs' worth is abandoned to the sake of materialism. There indeed is a monumental amount to digest following the show, but a socially empowered adaptation thrives in this.
Becoming more viscerally aggressive in its progression (with the aid of Zac Gvi's live musical direction), Benedict Andrews solidifies himself with a proud presentation of Chekhov's writing, selecting the creeping tensions and pulling them to the forefront. The way the audience is involved curates the work as a timelessly relevant piece of theatre. It was so good that I couldn't resist buying the playtext in the interval! It would be very difficult to ever forget this adaptation.
Comments