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It's a review. Messy in the format, but interesting. It also addresses the comedy/tragedy confusion. Hope it helps!
THE CHERRY ORCHARD. By Anton Chekhov.
Ankara State Theatre, Küçuk Tiyatro,
Ankara, Turkey. 14 October 1999.
Anton Chekhov has always been popular in
Turkey. The National Library catalogue contains
eighty-six different translations of his works, many
of which form a staple part of the English and
Russian Literature curriculum at both the underand
postgraduate levels. His three major plays, The
Cherry Orchard, Uncle Vanya, and Three Sisters, are
frequently performed in major theatres in Istanbul,
Ankara, and Izmir. A recent writer on Chekhov,
Özdemir Nutku of Ege University in Izmir, has
explained that the reason Chekhov is so popular in
Turkey is that playgoers respond to his balance
between "subjectively painful" and "objectively
comedic" perspectives on life, and his ability to
link the catastrophic with the trivial in a dramatic
form, erasing the boundaries between comedy and
tragedy.
On paper, it seemed this revival of The Cherry
Orchard, which marked the opening of the Ankara
State Theatre's fiftieth season, was deliberately
designed to reinforce this tragicomic message. It
was directed by the American Christopher Martin
(who previously worked on two other productions,
The Grapes of Wrath and Camino Real). It also
marked the return to the stage of the actress Heps*en
Akar, who had become something of a specialist in
playing tragicomedies in a forty-year career with
the State Theatre that included major roles in plays
by Lorca, Chekhov, Strindberg, and Tennessee
Williams.
This particular Cherry Orchard, using a recent
(1998) translation by Ataol Behramog¨lu, began with
a notable coup de théâtre. At the back of the stage,
two large wooden double doors opened to reveal
the actors silhouetted against a harsh yellow light,
shabbily dressed and carrying suitcases. This provided
a neat foreshadowing of the end of the play,
when lack of money forced Madame Ranevskaya
(Akar) to sell her house to Lopakhin, and ultimately
leave her beloved cherry orchard for good.
The notion of a family in decline was emphasized
by Gül Emre's set design, featuring a stark,
semipermanent structure of bare wooden boards
and peeling mahogany panels, flanked by clusters
of steel poles, representing trees in the orchard. An
old wooden rocking horse stood forlornly near the
doors at the back of the stage. Perhaps the children
had enjoyed playing with it when they were growing
up; now it was simply a piece of old junk,
neglected by everyone and cluttering up the play
area.
Throughout this production, Ranevskaya and
her aristocratic circle of friends endeavored to
preserve a facade of respectability by indulging in
their favorite pastimes-hunting, fishing, and having
parties. However, they soon became aware of
the increasing futility of their endeavors. This shift
was clearly indicated through sudden changes of
emotion; the festive atmosphere of a ball scene at
the beginning of act 3 was dispelled as Ranevskaya
abruptly stopped dancing and stared moodily at
the audience. On seeing her expression, Anya
(Eylem Yıldız) burst into tears. By contrast, Lopakhin
(Cahit Öztüfekçi) became more and more selfconfident
as the action progressed. At first, he
appeared embarrassed in Ranevskaya's presence,
shifting uncertainly from foot to foot as he delivered
his lines in a quavering tone. However, he
almost jumped for joy as he described how he had
bought "the most beautiful estate in the world!"
On hearing this, Ranevskaya sank into a chair,
apparently overcome with emotion.
But the audience was not encouraged to feel
sorry for her. Throughout the revival, Ranevskaya
and her circle seldom engaged in face-to-face conversation.
Many of their lines were delivered directly
to the audience, in the form of soliloquies.
Any physical contact-for example, kisses or hugs-
was kept as brief as possible. Ranevskaya herself
spent much of the production sitting queenlike in a
chair at the center of the stage. As the head of the
family, she was accustomed to having everyone
else pay their respects to her and saw no reason to
change despite her straitened social circumstances.
The only character who refused to observe such
niceties was Lopakhin, who made a point of talking
face-to-face with everyone, including Ranevskaya.
At such moments, the audience's sympathies
were with Lopakhin, as he tried his best to
converse with a class of people who obstinately
believed in their right to rule.
This production of The Cherry Orchard focused
less on the tragicomic aspects of the play, and more
on the social dimension, stressing in particular the
rise of the bourgeois middle class at the expense of
the landed aristocracy. At times, it lacked definition
(some of the supporting cast tended to garble
their lines, rendering them difficult to understand),
but it nonetheless hinted at the social upheaval that
eventually led to the Russian Revolution of 1917,
some thirteen years after the play was first performed.
LAURENCE RAW
Bas *kent University, Ankara
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