The Cherry Orchard

As part of the Adelaide Festival, LG Arts Center’s production of The Cherry Orchard was nothing short of extraordinary. A reimagining of Anton Chekhov’s play that was boldly and brilliantly adapted for modern Seoul by Simon Stone and while Chekhov’s original focus on loss, change and social upheaval remains timelessly relevant, Stone’s interpretation sharpens its urgency through the lens of three generations of a Korean chaebol family confronting collapse in a rapidly shifting world.

At its centre was Doyeon Jeon as Doyoung Song who by returning to the stage after 27 years, commanded it with breathtaking emotional precision. Her portrayal of a matriarch paralysed by grief and denial was layered, raw and devastatingly human. Alongside her, Haesoo Park (known globally for Squid Game) brought depth and quiet intensity to Doosik Hwang, the self-made entrepreneur whose ascension embodies the new Korea. Sangkyu Son as Jaeyoung Song captured aristocratic indifference with unnerving ease, while Moon Choi (Hyunsook) and Jihye Lee (Haena) embodied the fractured emotional terrain of the next generation. The ensemble: Yunho Nam, Byunghoon Yoo, Sejun Lee, Juwon Lee and Heejung Park each brought a unique quality to the production’s delicate tonal balance of tragedy and laugh out loud comedy.

Visually, the production was stunning. Saul Kim’s architectural set design created a hyper-real domestic world that shifted easily to create the desired mood. This was beautifully accomplished when combined with James Farncombe’s masterful lighting. The transitions from warm nostalgia to icy inevitability occurred so subtly that one felt the emotional change before consciously registering it. Youngkyu Jang’s ambient score was stunningly and cleverly embedded into the work; it never intruded, instead it was subtly beneath the action which heightened the  tension and melancholy in equal measure. The sound overall was clean, crisp and mostly clear, with only the slightest costume interference against body microphones which was promptly rectified each time.

Performed in Korean, the surtitles presented both a gift and a challenge. Korean is an incredibly fast language, and I often felt torn between watching the phenomenal characterisation unfolding on stage and glancing up to catch the translation. It was, at times, a workout for the senses. I found myself wishing I spoke Korean, feeling almost ‘ripped off’ that I could not keep my eyes fixed on the actors for the entire performance. That said, the production team had clearly considered sightlines carefully: screens were positioned above and beside the stage, and even under the dress circle overhang for those further back. Although viewing from the dress circle may have been an easier visual juggle, I am genuinely unsure how this could have been executed better.

Ultimately, The Cherry Orchard was politically resonant and deeply moving. It honoured Chekhov while standing fiercely in its own contemporary identity. This was a masterclass in adaptation, design and ensemble performance.

Peta Bojanic

Photographer: Jack Fenby