The Cherry Orchard

In his adaption of Anton Chekhov's play, The Cherry Orchard, Mihalis Kakogiannis shows a great deal of respect for the 19th century Russian play. In fact, Mihalis shows so much respect for it that he tried to have the film flow and seem very much like a play. Although the technique is an interesting way of trying to adapt a play to film, it ultimately leaves the audience wishing for less of a boisterous staged feel and more of a subtle real life feeling that film can so wonderfully produce. To Mihalis' misfortune the over animated and often over dramatized characters do more to take the audience out of the film than it does to push them into the story. Although the staged feel to The Cherry Orchard does make the film seem to drag on without the interest one would find in a lifelike representation of the events, there is several very significant themes that are important to Russian history that come across very nicely in the film.

One of the most interesting aspects of The Cherry Orchard is the way that we see the very different reactions to the emancipation of the serfs. If we look at the two "main" characters of the film, Madame Ranevskaya and Gayev, we see two people that are having a very hard time adjusting to the realities of the serfs being freed. They're not only in constant denial of the economic state of their estate but they are also oblivious to the possibility that former serfs are gaining both power and respect. If we look at how the film expresses the Raznichintzhe class, we see two different expressions. First we see Lopakhin that represents the emerging merchant class in Russian. Although Lopakhin was a former slave, by the end of the film we see that he wields the most respect and power through the active and hard work that he has done as a free citizen. Now on the other hand, Trofimov represents the Intelligentsia class that is emerging towards the later part of the 19th century. His nickname as the perpetual student gives away that he is not about working and doing business in a capitalist society, instead he talks of enacting greater change to help the uneducated freed serf class that now has a ton of freedom and not a whole lot to do with it. Now as Lopakhin showed one of the possibilities for freed serfs Firs showed another. Firs represents a relic of the past, a serf that was more content with being a serf and serving than being forgotten and left behind in the new society. Which is exactly what happens to firs at the end of the movie. Just like Firs, older serfs that could not enjoy the full expanse of their newfound freedom were in a way left behind by society. Although as a movie I believe that The Cherry Orchard could have been a little more intriguing had the director strayed further way from the play format, there are still many interesting aspects to the film that make it a enjoyable piece of Russian oriented cinema. Definitely, worth the watch if you have any interest in Russian life towards the end of the 19th century.

How should one live? This is the fundamental question in most of Chekhov's works. Here it's openly exposed and discussed. Should the declining aristocratic family attach themselves to the possession of their cherry orchard (a symbolic representative of the grand ornaments of the Russian aristocracy) or should they give in to modern commercialization in order to survive? What is the value of tradition and how many trees should each one os us have? Chekhov does not answer. But he formulates the questions in the most fascinating way. In addition to scholarly speeches about such fundamental dilemmas, the author also takes pleasure in a witty verve, offering us a 'veduta' of high culture and life in style in 19th century Russia. But, as the critic Pierce Inverarity summed up, this is not just a typical nineteenth-century play; its potential topics, questions and answers are relevant to any individual dealing with society and history, anywhere and anytime. However, as universal and moving as it can be on stage, Chekhov's play isn't the stuff of a great movie -- there's simply nothing filmic about it.

Michael Cacoyannis seems strangely reluctant to tell this story in a straightforward, understandable fashion. This ridiculously edited film rates a 7 out of 10 only because it does, in its idiosyncratic way, convey something of the story of a Russian woman, of the landed gentry, fallen on hard times, who is desperately seeking to preserve the ownership of her estate, on which is an ancient and beloved cherry orchard. If she is forced to sell, the orchard will be cut down and the estate "developed" into "affordable housing". So what else is new, eh?

By all, this is the choppiest editing and directing style I have ever encountered. Chekhov's play is certainly not constructed this way. There is no effort to introduce characters in an orderly fashion so that one may get to know who they are, and what their relationships and motivations are. Some of this eventually emerges if you are patient and alert enough, but don't blink! Some of the cast work is excellent. They must have been frustrated, though, if they knew what kind of editing would appear in the final cut.

People leave rooms, enter rooms. Peep through windows. Hide behind doors. Everyone behaves as if they've just lost their best friend. It's all so melodramatic. There's a piano score by Tchaikovsky that plays relentlessly on the soundtrack so as to cue us to the perpetual state of melancholy. A real cheerless meandering stagey bore of a movie. Charlotte Rampling tries hard and Alan Bates looks like he wandered in from another movie.

Cacoyannis began his career filming Greek tragedies five decades ago. Anyone seeing his production of Chekhov's wonderful play knows he adores this work: the discerning casting, the use of Tchaikovsky's little-known piano pieces. Best of all is the look of the production-- its costuming and lighting have the quality of delicate homage. Watch for scenes like the arrival of auction-bidders in a muddy street midway through the film-- a bit of period recreation on a par with Coppola and Scorsese. Chekhov's brilliant bits of stage-business are treasured here: Varya's clobbering her wished-for fiance with a door-slam, Epikhodov's goofs, Yasha's mother-problem, and especially the family's sitting gravely down together before their dispersal. These are lovingly done, and if citing them here is meaningless to those who haven't read the play, I'm afraid the film will mean as little to them, especially on videotape, where the exquisite visuals won't count for much. The acting can't sustain novices-- the cast, especially the males, show the effects of limited rehearsal time, sliding in and out of cohesion. The exceptions to that are Katrin Cartlidge (in a role that often stands-out in stage productions), Ian McNeice, and Michael Gough, delivering the finest performance I have seen from his 50+ years of movie-acting-- acting-teachers should march students to see CHERRY ORCHARD to hear how Gough reads a choice line like, "Now I can die." Cacoyannis nodded in spots: the weird accents affected by the lower-class characters add nothing, and the hammy Act II beggar-- one wants to thrash him. This is not a great film. But the play it serves may be the past century's greatest. At a time when American theaters cannot afford large-cast period plays, a Chekhov-fan feels special gratitude for this production.