The Cherry Orchard Diaries: "Holy Sh*t! It's Going To Work!"
Sorry for the delay. From now on, I'll be sending these out on Sunday night/Monday morning as standard. It just makes the most sense since writing this on the weekend gives me time to process properly away from the room rather than doing it before we're done for the week.
Today I'm going to cover how week two has shifted my understanding of the production as well as a little of what it's like being a writer in a rehearsal room. Oh, and there's a bit of a switch up to the usual programming at the end...you'll see.
Anyway - onwards!
"Holy Sh*t! It's going to work!"
...is what I thought mid-way through the second week. Maybe that comes across as a strange thing to note ("How can you think it's not going to work? You bloody wrote it!") but writing a script is not the same as knowing it will translate to an audience. Especially in what is a high-concept version. You fear (or at least I certainly do) that maybe you've been a bit too cocky or bombastic and this reimagining is a bit of a folly that will overwhelm the subtler emotions. It wouldn't necessarily be anyone's fault, everyone involved can be brilliant, but it can wind up just sort of not quite invoke the strength of feeling and clarity of story you'd hoped for.
But with all the work I've had on, across every medium, more often then not I have found there's been point when something just clicks and it lets your body properly relax. With this play, it was while the actors were putting Act Three (of four) on its feet. That's what we'd been doing the whole week so far - shoving a skeleton of movement under the flesh of the text - and it's been both exhausting and exhilarating.
This moment, this "it's going to work!" moment, is a crucial bit in this particular version and if the audience doesn't buy it then it'd be pretty terminal for the emotional trajectory of the play. And there I was, having a little cry. At my own words? Yes. And I felt a little embarrassed and narcissistic afterwards but it was honestly nothing to do with what I'd done, rather it was the truth and confidence with which the actors held that moment. They've made that spaceship feel as real as a grand old house in early 20th century Russia. And if that's what this is like at *this* point, I know it's going to be absolutely electric once it's got the support of the full production and the actors have had proper time with it. (P.S. I can't wait for the cast to be announced - it'll be pretty soon, I believe - but they're all lovely and brilliant). It could all go wrong from here of course but, for now, I'm feeling quietly confident. Everyone in the production really does seem like they get what we're trying to do. Fingers crossed you'll feel the same when you see it.
More generally, this week has given me a better sense of the flow and texture of this version of the play. It's thrown up a couple of residual beats from the original that still need a bit of refinement to fit the world. For so long I've been saying that I want this version to make you feel like I think the original aught to, even though it's set in deep space, and while I think it will do that there are some new thoughts, frames and journeys in this version that I still need to take full ownership of (i.e. not be able to blame Anton for). Thankfully, it's not very much, and the actors have been generous when I've been adjusting their lines on the fly.
As I've maybe noted already, this is my first time in a rehearsal room for I think, four years, and I'm still getting a handle again of how to best be in the room in a way that's useful. For me, best practice in the past has been to channel my thoughts via the director so as to maintain a clarity of decision making and choice. At the moment though, it feels like we're all still playing with the text, turning it over, discovering things, and that's felt very collegiate so far. James, the director, has allowed me to contribute as much or little as I wish and it's been a pleasant surprise that I feel more confident than I ever have...or to put it another way, I've felt free to be fairly vocal with my thoughts which isn't always the case. I suppose I worry that it's sometimes too much and I'm trying to be careful to not directly contradict or jump on what's being attempted in the moment because - surprise surprise - the ideas that come out eventually are far more interesting than most things I have in my brain. And anyway, honestly, it's been a real joy to just let myself sink into the process and observe How The Pros Do It for the most part. I started off directing alongside my writing (though not for the stage) and I am desperate to return to it again, so I've been trying to absorb how James works as well as asking myself what I would be doing if I was in his shoes. Being a writer in rehearsal is much, much nicer than being a writer on a TV or film set where you can feel a bit like you're in the way (unless you're execing/running it yourself). For me, these weeks make sense of the years you spend slogging away by yourself.
None of it yet has stopped feeling like a privilege.
We open in less than a month.
Oh Boy.
CHEKHOV CORNER
You were expecting a cat update here and, look, here's a short one - Pretty Cat has become transfixed with my bedroom mirror and I'm not sure if it's because he sees a whole other world in there or if he's gone all Sunset Boulevard in his old age - but I'm afraid until I'm done with these diaries I'm going to be hijacking this section for a weekly quotation from Anton himself.
Basically, When I read his letters as a prep work (Chekhov: A Life in Letters published by Penguin Classics if you're keen), I found myself screenshotting and underlining every other thing. I threw a lot of what you'll see here on my Instagram, but I figured they're all good enough to share again. We'll begin with a bumper edition for all you writers out there - some procrastination solidarity about a play you might of heard of:
Reader, August came and went...18th July 1902, Lyubimovka
The weather is wonderful, the river is wonderful, and we eat and sleep in the house like bishops. A thousand thanks to you, from the bottom of my heart. It is a long time since I spent such a summer. I go fishing every day, five times a day, and the fishing is pretty good too (yesterday we had soup made from ruff), and I can't tell you what a pleasure it is just to sit there on the bank. In short, everything is marvellous. The only bad side of it is that I am being very lazy and doing nothing. I still haven't made a start on the play, merely thought about it. I probably won't start it until the end of August.
Chekhov was, admittedly, terminally ill at this point even if he wasn't quite fully aware yet so I suppose that's some excuse BUT STILL! The following is to Olga Knipper, his wife:5th February 1903, Yalta
I have been poorly for a time, but have got through it and my health is now better. If I am not presently working as I should be, the fault lies in the cold (it is no warmer than 11 degrees in my study), in the lack of people and, probably, in my laziness, which last was born in 1859, that is to say the year before I was. All the same, I do intend to sit down properly with the play after 20 February, and finish it by 20 March. It is all complete in my head. Its title is The Cherry Orchard, it has four acts, in the first of which flowering cherry trees are seen through the windows, an entire garden of white. And the women will be in white dresses. In a word, Vishnevsky will be laughing a lot, but nobody, of course, will know why.
Huge Mood. Rehearsing is genuinely my favourite part of writing for theatre but I can accept that it's less fun in Moscow during the winter. Olga's telling off appears to have had limited effect because, in this letter to director pal Stanislavsky...4th March 1903, Yalta
You gave me a good telling off for not having finished the play, and are threatening to take me in hand. Please do take me in hand, that's a threat I very much like the sound of; having you take me in your hands is the only thing I want, but as far as the play is concerned you have no doubt forgotten that long ago, in the days of Noah, I announced to all and sundry that I would be getting down to the play at the end of February and the beginning of March. My laziness has nothing to do with it. After all, I'm not exactly my own worst enemy, and if I had the strength I would have written not one but twenty-five plays. Anyhow, I'm glad there isn't a play, because it means you can rest instead of having to rehearse. The amount of work you do is absurd, it's slavery by any standard!
All of that is painfully relatable. Yet, in what I suspect isn't a huge spoiler, he did manage to finish it sometime between the end of July and the start of September. Have heart, dear writers. You'll get it done.28th July 1903, Yalta
My play is not yet finished; it's moving forward very sluggishly, which may be explained partly by my laziness, partly by the wonderful weather, and partly by the difficulty of the subject. As soon as it is finished, or even before, I will write to you or, better, send you a telegram. Your own part has turned out pretty well, although I can't really judge since I don't generally derive many insights from reading plays.
(The play subsequently went on in January 1904 - the critics were divided.)
Vin x
If you're new to Patelograms and like what you've read, you can subscribe by clicking here.
If you're an old hand, thanks as ever for taking the time.
(The Cherry Orchard runs at the Yard Theatre between 5th September and 22nd October 2022. It then goes to HOME from the 2nd to the 19th November)