La Cerisaie: bits and pieces of pathos and ferocious humour are all that remain of the tragic content !

La Cerisaie: bits and pieces of pathos and ferocious humour are all that remain of the tragic content !

photo. Theatre TG Stan. Lopakhin, Firs, Lyubov

La Cérisaie (The Cherry Tree/the Cherry Orchard) presented by the Belgian company TG  STAN (i.e. Stop Thinking About Names)

The Flemish  TG Stan collective from Antwerp  chose to perform their version of Chekhov’s last play (1903-04), as a comedy where the tragedy was reduced to moments of pure pathos as  the actors free themselves from the  constraints of Chekhov’s  theatrical conventions.  The enclosed space of a dying society has flung open the windows and let fresh air flood into the theatre to produce  a counter discourse that brought this performance beyond  what we might expect.  This reading  was at times intriguing but at times disturbing because we seemed to lose something.

The TG Stan  is a  collective of  actors whose aim is to refresh  the classics,  by obtaining from each actor a profoundly  personal  interpretation of the speaking subject and in this sense they reached their mark.  The  group has  no artistic director, there is no  authoritarian  stage presence  to orient the cast  towards a specific esthetic  which means that  each  actor makes his or her own choices.  Even where accents are concerned we often hear  guttural Flemish sounds  gargle through the French  or even  the odd  German word  uncovering a sense of familiarity between these artists and ourselves.

 

One has the impression that the actors are  almost improvising, using speech rhythms that have nothing  to do with the need to project their voices into the audience. And yet,  we hear them all clearly.  And one immediately has the sense that these are excellent actors who articulate beautifully, have much stage experience but are trying to deconstruct the work, reduce  the discretely stagey style of “normal” chekhovian performances  to capture the effect of a conversation accidentally overheard in the garden next door.  A situation that is recognizable, familiar but not too intimate or embarrassing. The actors  all have individual  functions within the  collectivity bursting open the acting space where the whole stage enters into the performance: the wings,  all the backstage area, piles of props in one corner waiting to be used and  all the technical equipment, the lighting and so forth.

We understand how this group of close collaborators has learned to second guess their colleagues reactions and understand exactly how they react in performance situations. But just exactly what is this performance situation?

We are not in a neo-realistic third wall situation where the audience is full of  indiscrete voyeurs watching what it is not supposed to see;  we are not in a Brechtian  space where  foregrounding  the technical aspects of the play, costume changes, set modifications,  lighting changes and so forth, destroy the illusion of reality;  we are not in a symbolic space of images that denaturalize  the actors nor are we in an expressionist space that foregrounds the mental disturbance of the characters as it stretches and twists  the visual components to  capture   the inner trauma of their mindset . Not  at all.

We are in a  space  of  characters/actors who are pure products of their own theatre  and who have become exactly whom they chose to be within the limits of the narrative, disregarding the rules of staging or the gloomy side  of what was always considered the angst that possessed Chekhov.

The actors change the authors ‘ didascalies,  impose their own choices and thus  rewrite the play in one sense according to their own contemporary sensibilities without betraying the essence of the situation.  And no one else has interfered in their decisions. This is the  newness of this experiment.   The lack of director has freed the actors/characters totally , given them a freshness that we have never seen, and off they go but, on the other hand, all trace of real tragedy has disappeared, replaced by a bursts of spontaneous  passion of all sorts .

.  Our gaze is constantly drawn all around the acting space at one time as if we were entering a crowded room for the first time! And no special space seems to dominate the conversation. As  certain individuals speak, others are  working,  to the point where we barely realize that  a performance is actually in progress. The ‘characters  all flutter strangely until  there is a shriek from the audience and the  rest of the cast comes rushing in  after  a five year absence. Will she still remember who I am, asks   Lopakhin a landowner,  about  Lyubov, the present owner of the domain.   Then they all enter  from the audience, chatting excitedly, happy to be back in Russia after this five year holiday,  talking about their Parisian adventures, hugging and kissing each other. They are at last home.  Lyubov is nearly  hysterical with joy. One daughter  pulls out a wiggling herring  as a gift. Such surprising details are common.

The results are at times  a bit disconcerting given the precarious future of the family.  Firs the 80 year old servant in the play becomes a handsome young smiling fellow on  stage who is rather pleasing   and whose  age changes  the stage energy  because even though he is a young man, his replies still shows he is hard of hearing  and  the  incongruous  reactions  of a younger man saying he is  nearly deaf  becomes a joke  while Lyubov the owner of the domain comes sweeping into the room  in near hysterics, crying and greeting all with great whoops of joy without appearing to worry about her future.

The atmosphere is  relaxed in spite of the news that they have to sell the domain to pay for their debts because the  prerevolutionary society is dying,  money is losing its value , all the landowners are losing their land and the old aristocratic society is falling apart.

Mother Lyubov  screams that she could not stand to lose her  beautiful domain but  her tone shifts rapidly and soon her  yearning for the past is transformed into  laughing and playfulness  while  the conversation returns again and again to the question of the land as soon as it becomes clear that the  sadness is compounded when they realize that the rich merchant Lopakhin has bought the Cherry orchard, and they all try to understand what this will mean to each of them.  He has made a  good offer on the property and they  must begin to prepare their exit.

The chattering and movement grow immensely, life must continue  as coffee is  served in dainty cups whereas  one of the daughters Varya, described by Chekhov as a nun  bears no resemblance to such a character.  Trofimov the eternal student and intellectual  who speaks in the most serious terms about the future of  Russian  society and the  intelligentsia, is mocked by the others even as he makes it known that he would like  to marry  the beautiful Anya .

At that moment  even the  set seems to be crumbling away , the sign of an aging world   that will soon disappear. We see that from the  neglect, the huge empty space, the slightly off-white  old blinds  suggest warn out colours or a surface  that  has not been washed for a very long time. The  daughters seek refuge in  their own partners.   Varya   in love with   the new landowner Lopakhin hopes he will say something but there is only silence, even when the family is about to leave for Moscow. Lopakhin says nothing to her and so his  reasons for his restraint  remain obscure even though he has confessed that he is interested in her. The play does not delve into such questions. All is left open but the  disappointment  is strongly suggested by the silence that follows Lyubov ‘s asking Varya :   “Well?”dying to find out about a marriage proposal that has never happened. However,  nothing was said  and by slightly bending her head, Varya shows us she has missed her  last chance to get married and is condemned to a life of solitude whereas Lopakhin’s motives are almost of no importance. Such is life.

Such silences criss cross  with counter moments of  loud hysterics  during the  good-bye party in the house. There is a wild tribal ritual of thumping feet and symmetrically rocking bodies under the glow of soft orange lights in the back room of the house.  Much emotional  energy is spent and then they are  gone and  what remains is a great void.

A strange stage  experiment which left the spectators  chattering among themselves  as they left the theatre, trying to uncover the meaning of this new work presented in a form that clarifies nothing but that adds new unknowns and new secrets to Chekhov’s work. Audiences will be discussing this play for a long time to come.  I guarantee it!

 

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