Artist Profile by Peggy Queener

Live musical interludes, chamber music, and the cast's melancholy rendition of "Old Folks at Home", filled the world of this Cherry Orchard; set in Charleston, South Carolina, in 1923. The social issues plaguing early 20th century Russia transformed into similar maladies in Charleston: disintegration of the idle, wealthy planter class, brought on by the freeing of the slaves. I loved Blake's concept for the production - I felt that placing the story in this country, set in such an iconic time period, and incorporating regionally-appropriate music (a banjo & guitar) throughout, created a particular resonance in the play that helped draw the audience into Phare Play Productions', The Cherry Orchard.

It certainly helped me. I myself have a deep connection to the south, having gone every summer of my childhood to visit my father's family. Even in the 1970's, glimpses of the Old South were very much in evidence. Having been a first-hand witness to this southern pride, I related very strongly to Madame Lyubov Andreyevna Ranevskaya's ultimate loss of her beloved family estate, and the full meaning of that event.

I deeply appreciated her efforts to remain emotionally buoyant in the face of her tragic losses: her husband and son's deaths, her lover's desertion, the depletion of her fortune, and her attempted suicide. Believe it or not, I didn't have a lot of hesitation approaching the darkest aspects of Madame Ranevskaya's story.

The challenge I didn't expect occurred in relating to a character who was brought up to singularly be a social ornamentation, albeit a very important one, and it was very complex for me. On one hand, I enjoyed her brilliant social skills: witty conversationalist, the ability to make everyone around her feel special and included, and her beautiful personal style. I discovered that what I feared was embracing her total lack of self-sufficiency. It was a difficult rehearsal process: I simply couldn't wrap my mind around the notion that this woman never learned how to solve any of her problems!

Although I never judged Ranevskaya's actions; or lack thereof, I frequently had to resist my own "independent modern woman" tendencies in order to remain true to the core of this character. Lyubov's complete inability to know how to deal with the family's debts and prevent the impending auction of the estate, and her dismissive attitude towards Lopakhin's solution for saving her dearly loved orchard; I found these to be the most difficult elements to incorporate into my performance.

What I admired most about Lubyov, despite her tendencies towards self-absorption, was the depth with which she loved those around her. Frequently, during rehearsals or performance, I discovered feeling a very child-like quality to her love - innocent, and lacking any type of resentment or conditions. This was a great gift in being able to explore Lyubov Ranevskaya's emotional life. After all that she'd been through, she was still able to feel the purest element of joy in her love of her family and friends. I have a great deal of respect and empathy for her.

Rehearsals for The Cherry Orchard took place at the Lodestar Theatre, (on Ninth Avenue, between 43rd & 44th streets), which had been Phare Play's home. During our rehearsal period, we learned that Phare Play would be leaving the Lodestar, and we would perform our play elsewhere. We rehearsed with two different blocking arrangements, for two different theatres.

We performed The Cherry Orchard in vastly different spaces, coupled with dressing room challenges of their own. The Beckman Theatre, (at The American Theatre of Actors, 54th St., Between 8th & 9th Avenues), was a 36-seat house, with audience members on two sides of the playing area. Thirteen people, a lot of period costumes, a banjo and guitar, and one adorable dog shared a very tiny split room arrangement there. That was our home the first weekend.

The second weekend found us at the Roy Arias Studios, (Times Square Arts Center, 43rd St. at 8th Avenue), in a space that had concrete walls and a tile floor. The audience sat in folding chairs, and the stage consisted of a six-inch high plywood platform. We had windows in the "theatre", and the room became so warm during one performance, we opened them and shouted our lines over the din of Times Square traffic. Our dressing room was adjacent to the performance space, just as large, and it also served as our backstage area. Although the performance locations changed, our audience was able to find us, and were delighted and moved by our telling of The Cherry Orchard.

In retrospect, I find it ironic that we performed a show about a family losing its home at a time when we, the company, really had no home. Perhaps our collective experience helped us to understand our characters' plights. For me, the entire experience felt strangely nomadic. Despite the upheaval of our roots, I was completely enveloped by the environment created by the ensemble, during each and every performance. The relationships were so real that I was moved to tears; as Madame Ranevskaya, when I looked at my fellow company members, I perceived only the world we inhabited in 1923 Charleston, S.C. This is a testament to the talent, commitment, and professionalism of the The Cherry Orchard ensemble, and to Blake Bradford's actor-sensitive direction. I feel very fortunate to have worked with so many gifted and generous artists, and to have been a part of Phare Play Productions', The Cherry Orchard.