The Cherry Orchard: ‘quietly riveting’ staging of Chekhov classic

This stirring production of Anton Chekhov’s final masterpiece features “glorious” performances “across the board and the generations”, said Dominic Cavendish in The Telegraph.

Kristin Scott Thomas is “hypnotic” as the superficially carefree, inwardly agonised Lyuba Ranevsky, who returns to her failing estate after years of exile in Paris. Stephen Mangan is “brilliant” as the low-born but now wealthy businessman Yermolay Lopakhin. And the excellent supporting cast includes Vinette Robinson as Lyuba’s adopted daughter Varya, and Jeff Rawle as the hard-up Boris Simeonov-Pishchik. This is not quite top-drawer Chekhov: it is not as good as the 2007 production of “The Seagull” that won Scott Thomas an Olivier. But it’s assured and “quietly riveting”.

In his new adaptation, playwright Conor McPherson “cranks up both the bitter and the sweet as he massages the plot and dialogue for some big laughs”, said Andrzej Lukowski in Time Out. Here, for example, the “old codger” servant Firs (the terrific Karl Johnson) is as “mad as a hatter and swears like a trooper”. And it’s a “storming performance – dare I say a career best – from the perennially underestimated” Mangan. Even while plotting to buy the estate, his Lopakhin remains “bound to these people, forever cowed by them”.

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Mangan is a “wonderful” actor, but I’m afraid he’s miscast as Lopakhin, said Dominic Maxwell in The Times. He delivers plenty of “beaming charm” but there is no grit and precious little sense of inner turmoil. And, while Scott Thomas is convincing, this is the “least outstanding stage performance” I’ve seen of hers. The evening overall is “diverting” but, ultimately, disappointing.

This is a “handsome and engaging” staging, with some funny moments, said Arifa Akbar in The Guardian. And the individual performances are all effective. But somehow, “you don’t feel much pathos” for the group as a whole, and “the drama never quite enters dark or tragic territory”. There’s elegance and insight here, but insufficient emotion.
Harold Pinter Theatre, London SW1. Until 9 January.