Chekhov's 'Cherry Orchard' proves fruitful

As the lights go up at McCarter Theater on Emily Mann's newly adapted production of Anton Chekhov's "The Cherry Orchard," the audience sees a set layered with a number of strategically placed floor-to-ceiling screens, softly filtering the images behind them. Not far into the play itself, this motif of blurred reality takes center stage, and the realization dawns that no one in this play ever really sees things for what they truly are.

That, in short, is the essence behind Chekhov's story of Russia's dying aristocracy in an age of revolution and shifting social strata. Mann's adaptation dusts off the cobwebs that most current translations leave on Chekhov's language and often farcical moments, and brings Chekhov's keen sense of humor alive for modern sensibilties.

"The Cherry Orchard" traces the downfall of the Russian aristocracy in the years following the Russian Revolution and the subsequent emancipation of the serfs. As the play opens, Lyubov Ranevskaya (Jane Alexander), a widowed estate owner, returns from an extended stay in Paris to learn from Lopakhin (Avery Brooks), a former serf turned wealthy businessman, that the family's beloved cherry orchard will have to be cleared, subdivided and sold at auction in order to keep the family from going completely bankrupt.

Ranevskaya is naturally devastated to hear this news and spends the entire play in hopeless despair, yet she is determined to live her life as she has always lived it, and continues to spend money as if it grew on all those beloved trees in her backyard.

Meanwhile, the other members of the household, including two daughters and a handful of house servants, as well as Ranevskaya's imbecilic and verbose brother Gayev (John Glover) continue about their own lives, little concerned with the family's financial woes and the crumbling society that surrounds them.

The idealistic and romantic young daughter Anya (Anne Dudek), is complemented by her polar opposite, Varya (Caroline Stephanie Clay), the family's cynical and headstrong adopted daughter. The two family valets seem to represent past and future Russia. The caring geriatric valet (Roger Robinson) clings to the past, always hearkening back to "the old days" and lamenting the changes that are occurring around him. Yasha (Jefferson Mays), on the other hand, is the family's snobbish younger valet who seems to embody the westernized Russia of the future. These characters are constantly at odds with one another and exemplify the clashing ideals that were battling in Chekhov's contemporary Russia.

Despite its title, the plot of "The Cherry Orchard" seems less concerned with the loss of the estate and more involved with the sexual frustrations of the majority of the cast. Very few of the play's potential relationships work out, however, and all seem to center on the desire of a woman for a man who cannot commit.

All of these plot elements combine in Chekhov's work into a masterful drama that walks a fine line between farce and tragedy — a line that is difficult to traverse on stage. Under Mann's direction, the actors execute the comedic aspects of the play brilliantly — however, many soon find themselves reduced to caricatures. This would be appropriate if "The Cherry Orchard" were a purely comedic play, but problems arise when Mann asks us to take these caricatured figures seriously in the play's tragic moments.

And make no mistake, these characters do have their tragedies. Ranevskaya is attached to the estate because her only son drowned in the river there during childhood, but it is hard to take her tears seriously after spending the majority of the production laughing at her blatant stupidity. Likewise, Gayev delivers a ridiculous ode to a bookcase, but when he waxes sentimental about the estate, it is nearly impossible to approach his words without skepticism.

Despite these difficulties in synthesizing the different dramatic elements, this production features some outstanding actors and brilliant performances. Broadway and Hollywood veteran Alexander's portrayal of Ranevskaya is believable and at times brilliant, though occasionally she slips into melodrama.

As Lopakhin, Brooks — ,who is best known for TV's "Star Trek: Deep Space Nine" — is very convincing in his wheeler-dealer moments, but he has problems exhibiting the range of emotion that his character requires. His second-act speech, in which he falls to his knees and extols how the tables have turned in the master-slave relationship, reads much more poignantly than it comes across in Brooks' performance. At times, his booming sonorous voice and commanding stage presence, while outstanding in their own right, appear much more suited for Shakespeare than for Chekhov.

Some of the production's most phenomenal performances come from the supporting actors. Clay is perfect as the willful and stubborn Varya and German film veteran Sukowa contributes just the right amount of weirdness to the character of the governess, Charlotta. As for the men, Mays, from McCarter's recent production of "The Importance of Being Ernest," embodies Yasha's snobbish airs with a superb mixture of arrogance and eloquence, and Robinson as the aged valet Firs steals many of his scenes.

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Overall, Mann should be commended for an excellent adaptation of a complex show. Her direction, however, seems a bit stilted, as the barrier between farce and drama is much more rigid in her production than it should be, lacking the fluidity that Chekhov's writing demands. This combination of comedy and tragedy is one of the main reasons why many theaters shy away from "The Cherry Orchard," and McCarter's production is certainly a noble, valiant and enjoyable effort to bring this classic play to modern audiences.

Anton Chekhov's "The Cherry Orchard" runs at McCarter Theater through April 16. Call (609) 258-ARTS for show times and reservations.