Theatre
Gloomy victory
Mark Amory
Uncle Vanya (Haymarket) The Cherry Orchard (Round House) The endless debate on how to play Chekhov receives some fuel this week In the coincidence of two of his major plays, helmed, as they say in Variety, in contrasting styles by directors with im- pressive recent successes. Christopher (Dr Faustus, Berenice) Fettes has mounted an Uncle Vanya broadly of the gloomy autum- nal English school. The star-studded cast however make it more natural to concen- trate on performance rather than on overall approach. The title for once seems ab- solutely right. The evening concerns Vanya and Sonya, uncle and niece, who have always lived in the country and always will. Prances de la Tour (Sonya) with no ap- parent effort makes every scene in which she appears come to life. She is no mere drudge and is capable of flashing a con- sPiratorial smile as she says how much she loves a midnight feast. When this ugly duckling makes friends with her beautiful stepmother Elena the enchantment and truth that some of us have been going on and on about since the Olivier production In 1962 was suddenly back. She is in love. She has just told the man so in her clear voice and he has managed not to under- stand. She ought to be downcast and yet she 15 flooded with happiness, while Elena, who Is stuck with the ancient professor she once thought glamorous, is basically wretched, though her load is lightened for a while. Then hen when they wish to play the piano the Professor forbids it.
I was apprehensive about Donald Sinden. In a way he should be the perfect actor for Vanya The experienced farceur of Shut Your Eyes and Think of England who can as easily — he says more easily — plunge in- to the depths of Lear, must be ideally suited to a rejected lover who suddenly feels that hIs whole life has been wasted and must, when trying to assassinate his brother-in- 'aw, get a big laugh with the despairing ejaculation 'Missed again.' I feared that perhaps his style was too exuberant and ex- ternal, his rumbling vocal chords too man- nered for Chekhov; I underestimated his control and versatility. Also I thought him too old. It is true when Vanya says he is 47 it is a surprise but he also says that he may have another ten terrible years to live which seems a modest estimate. Hugging his hands between his thighs, treading on what seems to be a comfort blanket, encased in a suit that makes him a ridiculous shape, this Vanya whines with self-pity, as the others complain, but never forfeits our sympathy. He stands no sort of chance with Elena and at the end Sonya copes with five bills to his one so that it seems dubious how much his labouring for the estate has been worth. Sheila Gish began well but then seemed to be giving a conventional performance in- stead of playing a basically conventional woman. Harry Andrews conveyed the vani- ty of the professor with some mincing gestures but also let us see how this odious man had once impressed them all. Ronald Pickup was bitter but not vulgar, pas- sionate or funny enough — perhaps that is unfair memories of Olivier again. Bill Fraser waffled charmingly. Quite a cast and if they never quite come together, there is much to enjoy.
Uncle Vanya ends with a series of characters saying 'They've gone'. The Cherry Orchard begins with cries of `They're here' and soon they are and the stage is overflowing with shouting and cry- ing, with kissing and barking (sic), with cries of joy and recognition, which set the„, tone for the evening. 'I feel I must jump and wave my hands in the air,' says Madame Ranyevskaya and so does prac- tically everyone else. This makes a fine start and she, played by Alison Fiske, can ride the wave, losing little as she is swept along. Her only wish is to please and so to be loved and she does, she is. Even seeing her mother's ghost is probably just a device for changing the subject, banishing any awkwardness or unpleasantness. Sincerity is a casualty of this approach to life and so is a sense of proportion — when she says good- bye almost certainly forever to her daughter, the moment passes almost un- noticed by her as well as the audience.
There are other losses. Class distinctions cannot stand out in the swirl, which means Gaev, the brother who mutters of billiards and makes a speech to the bookcase,
becomes almost non-existent. The ancient servant Firs is a still point in a turning world and drives his master to bed like a sheepdog with a stray. The eccentricity of the governess is powerful enough to survive. Lopahkin, who buys the orchard, might seem the most robust of all but he no longer appears as dreadfully vulgar and unattrac- tive as all that, indeed though his words are insensitive, his manner is much like the rest of them and of course he is entirely in the right. This diminishes the play, the sale must seem a tragedy, at least for them. The practical daughter Varya is another who can be spotted above the foam though Lopahkin's failure to propose to her is no longer agonising. Of course the tender scenes are still there but cheerfulness, two or three people and perhaps a dog keep breaking in before they can take hold. I mistyped the title as The Cheery Orchard and that is about it. Mike Alfreds, the director, founded the excellent company, Shared Experience, and had a great success with The Seagull last year. He has pointed out that in this play people keep breaking things, which is true but is meant to include their hearts. If you had never seen it before you might well enjoy this production but you would be perspicacious indeed if you realised you had seen a great play.
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