The fact that she can’t resist giving away money or hiring an orchestra she can’t pay for? It’s funny and it’s sad. But we get it. She can’t change.Īnd as we get to know the large cast of characters, Falls ensures that we can see that nearly everyone has such uncontrollable flaws. Even Lopakhin, the man who now seems to own the future, can barely open his mouth around Varya (Alejandra Escalante), Ranevskaya’s adopted daughter and the woman everyone assumes he will marry. It all leads up to one of Chekhov’s most famous scenes, as we await whether he will be capable of forming words.Īna Kuzmanic’s lush costumes draw us into the period specificity and social order, while Todd Rosenthal’s set - which moves between elaborately detailed and minimalist - captures the grandeur and decay of the former aristocracy. The first and last scenes are set in a former nursery and playroom. That has never struck me as quite as important as it is in this production. We can see how Fry’s Ranevskaya gravitates toward her old tea set and wishes nothing more than that she could set everyone down for an imaginary party. She’s not silly she just longs for days before her life had grief and money problems.įalls leans into the comic in Chekhov, but never loses that sentiment - of loss, of human frailty. After Fry and Bandealy, the most essential performance here comes from Guinan as the ancient, deaf Firs, who in his own day resisted change and now goes around muttering that everyone is a “nincompoop.”Ĭhange is inevitable, and time can’t be stopped, and eventually, perhaps, we’ll all, like Firs, be left behind.Lyuba arrives with her entourage in tow: her teenaged daughter Anya Anya’s governess, Charlotte the elderly manservant Firs Lyuba’s immature older brother Leonid Gayev her adopted daughter, Varya and Charlotte’s dog. Kate Fry is a wonderfully ebullient Ranevskaya. We can see why everyone is drawn to her, seemingly following her from room to room. Bandealy expertly captures the contradictory impulses of the practical Lopakhin, who is at once frustrated at her unwillingness to listen and resolute in his adoration of her. When his father would beat him, the oh-so-genteel Ranevskaya would take him in and treat his wounds. Yes, she’s clueless. But she’s so good. What could be, and has been, treated as satire comes across here with gentleness. But facing facts and adapting to change - these are not qualities that the landowners Lyubov Ranevskaya (Kate Fry) and her brother Leonid Gayev (Christopher Donahue) were raised to value. As aristocrats, they were raised to play and charm and host parties and give away money, and in Gayev’s case, to spout sentimental speeches, which once may have been directed to local societies but now must be exercised to a piece of furniture.

The Cherry Orchard by Anton Chekhov