Eight actors (four men, four women) are onstage, sitting on a set with blue walls covered with clouds. They are wearing late-19th/early-20th-century clothes. A large cabinet covered with a white cloth is in the upper right corner. They all are staring ahead, except for one man leaning against the cabinet at the right who is staring down and is seen in profile, and another man in the upper left who is seated on a small chair, looking out in half-profile. The women are in the front, and the men are in the rear.

The last great production of The Cherry Orchard I saw was at Steppenwolf, nearly 20 years ago. Tina Landau turned the company’s upstairs theater into a near-immersive experience, with Riccardo Hernández’s set design incorporating swathes of lacy white cloth all around us—perfect for Chekhov’s characters, who spend so much time hiding from visible truths and […]

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