The Royal Shakespeare Company's eagerly anticipated staging of Anton Chekhov's 'The Cherry Orchard' has crashed and burned at the Swan Theatre in Stratford-Upon-Avon, despite boasting an A-list cast that would normally guarantee box office gold. Tamara Harvey's production is a star-studded extravaganza featuring Helen Hunt as the imperious Madame Ranyevskaya, Bill Pullman as her dotty brother Gaev, and Kenneth Branagh as Lopakhin – the rough-around-the-edges shopkeeper's son whose rise signals the impending demise of Russia's stodgy aristocracy.
Yet, for a production with such heavyweight names, many observers have scratched their heads in bewilderment at its glaring lack of emotional punch. Laura Wade's adaptation may be an update on Chekhov's language, but it's been described as more 'spruced up' than radical, leaving some perplexed by the deliberate choice to use American accents for the aristocratic siblings and Northern Irish brogues for Lopakhin and his trusty sidekick Yasha. It's like watching a heavyweight boxing match where the fighters forget to throw their punches – all style, no substance.
Harvey's direction does bring out some of the play's wackier moments, particularly through Michael Elwyn's hilarious portrayal of the doddering old butler Firs. But it's not enough to compensate for a perceived absence of real emotional depth and dramatic oomph. The only genuinely affecting moment comes when Esther Smith's Varya – Ranyevskaya's adopted daughter with a secret passion for Lopakhin – finally gets her chance to shine.
Branagh's Lopakhin is, as ever, good-natured and affable, but some critics feel his portrayal lacks the snarl and bite that made Adeel Akhtar's Donmar Warehouse version so unforgettable. When he finally reveals his ownership of the estate after the auction, it's a moment that's meant to leave us gasping – but somehow, it fizzes out faster than a damp firework.
Helen Hunt's Ranyevskaya is woefully one-dimensional, failing to convey the character's entitled passion and grief with any real conviction. Bill Pullman, on the other hand, brings bags of charm and comic flair to his role – which is a shame, really, because his part could have been so much bigger.
Anna Fleischle's set design is, as ever, breathtaking – a ravishing tapestry of faded grandeur and expressionistic bare branches that evokes the crumbling Russian aristocracy with chilling accuracy. But despite its visual splendours, this production feels like a missed opportunity to really explore the profound social and political commentary that underpins Chekhov's masterpiece.