THE CHERRY ORCHARD
Arcola Theatre
, London E8
Opened 21 February, 2017
***

The Arcola has now become a fully producing theatre. This increased autonomy is partly bought by a number of occasional “banker” productions such as this Chekhov classic, in – amazingly – the first London production of Trevor Griffiths’ 1977 version.

As a left-wing playwright, Griffiths can be relied upon not to succumb to – indeed, his avowed intent is precisely to combat – putting an elegiac spin on Chekhov’s account of the decline of the old pre-revolutionary Russian gentry, as their estate is sold from under them without their ever seeming to grasp the urgency of the situation. Nor does director Mehmet Ergen, although I am in two minds about his method here. He has struck a melodramatic note: not hugely so, but the performances are often palpably larger than the Arcola’s space warrants. The exemplar is Jack Klaff as Gayev: contrary to his predilections throughout his long career, he here waxes consistently orotund. This may be a deliberate characterisation of how staggeringly wrong these smug nobs get their priorities, but I’m unconvinced that it works. Likewise, although Ergen’s blocking is fluid and lucid, I could happily see a variant in which not one of the actors ever falls to their knees at any point.

Nevertheless, the balance of evidence is on the positive side. Sian Thomas as Mme Ranevsky rightly refuses to let her warmth forgive her complacency; Jude Akuwudike’s Lopakhin, too, is sympathetic to the family without being merciful and forgoing his opportunity to buy the estate. Jim Bywater is a massively underrated actor by whom it is impossible not to be captivated even when he is merely the comic-relief neighbour Pischick. I have a tendency to put a stopwatch on the final act of this play, based on Chekhov’s exaggerated exhortation that it should last 12 minutes rather than the 40 of Stanislavski’s first production. Ergen here strikes the common midpoint at 25 minutes for the family’s leavetaking as the first axes are heard on the orchard offstage; there is much hesitation as various plot strands are not resolved, but our response to the pauses is not pity but frustration, in common with Griffiths’ unblinking view.

Written for the Financial Times.

Copyright © Ian Shuttleworth; all rights reserved.

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