Review: The Cherry Orchard, Harold Pinter Theatre ★★★★

The Cherry Orchard, Chekhov’s play adapted here by Conor McPherson, feels universal in its exploration of the follies of wealth, or indeed former wealth. Mould seeps through the walls and the decor is battered and worn, but the estate is the pride of the Ranevskys, who cannot imagine life without it even as creditors nip at their heels and the money runs dry.

Lopakhin (played with layered credibility by Stephen Mangan) can see the way out. He is a success story in the new Russian society, and he wants to help the family who once owned his own. The central irony is that despite his money, clothes and thriving businesses, the Ranevskys cannot bear to deal with him. Appearances are all, and the grubby day-to-day accounting is beneath them.

Review: The Cherry Orchard, Harold Pinter Theatre

Stephen Mangan

Image credit: Johan Persson

Madam (a cool and lofty Kristin Scott Thomas) has been a figure to look up to all his life. She nursed him when his father beat him. Even so, his desire to help, which is utterly genuine, is rebuffed. Chekhov’s script reminds us that class differences mean he can never be one of them. Mangan captures his bemused lack of understanding as he realises he holds the keys to their recovery, but that they will not take them. As Russia moves on, they will not accept the ignominy of building dachas for the emerging middle classes.

Another poignant layer comes from the servant Firs (a shambling Karl Johnson). He tells us his deep loyalty meant he did not take his freedom when it was offered, but we can also see that, like the Ranevskys, he cannot imagine life outside the hierarchy he grew up in. Leaving is too uncertain. Johnson gives an excellent portrayal of someone whose mind is wandering, forever revisiting the past.

Chloe Lamford’s set is a triumph. With its depth and rooms behind rooms, the doorways opening onto glimpses of further spaces recall photographs of the original Moscow Art Theatre production. People going up and down stairs and into back rooms give a clear sense of the scale of this large estate, and later the back of the set opens up to reveal the billiards behind. Ian Rickson’s direction gives a sense of constant flow and movement as people wander in and out of the house.

Review: The Cherry Orchard, Harold Pinter Theatre

Cast

Image credit: Johan Persson

The party scene has real verve as they dance and drink, with a real travelling band playing. It also raised further questions about priorities. Like those rearranging the deckchairs on the Titanic, what exactly are they prioritising? Why hire a band? Why get upset about broken billiard cues when absolutely everything is about to be lost? Firs laments the fall in status of the guests: there might still be a party, but the aristocratic invitation list is long gone as society changes. The governess Sharlotta Ivanovna (Ruby Bentall) is very accomplished at magic and ventriloquism, adding a further sense of absurdity to proceedings.

Uncle Leo (Peter Wight) constantly balancing on a chair to give speeches is very precarious, and had the audience wincing and hoping he would not fall. He and his sister see their childhood and their family all around them.

Review: The Cherry Orchard, Harold Pinter Theatre

Karl Johnson and Peter Wight

Image credit: Johan Persson

We end with the family departing. The death of Grisha, Madam’s son and brother to the others, haunts them all, and leaving the place where he died will be painful. They leave behind their memories, their home, their cherry trees and, in a final indignity, Firs. We hear saws begin to attack the trees.

Chekhov wrote the play in 1903, but his ideas and McPherson’s language make it all feel relevant. As we watch, we are prompted to look at our own world. What value do we place on the past? How easy is it to adapt as society changes around you?

As the trees fall, is it so different from the growth of Airbnbs killing village life in tourist regions such as Cornwall? The clash between old and new, and the economic cost of change, is ever present. This is an approachable and appealing introduction to Chekhov.

Images credit: Johan Persson