The Cherry Orchard – at the Lion and Unicorn, Kentish Town

12^th March 2008

Tonight’s journey had two stars who merit a special mention: there was the mouse/cleaner beavering away on the platform at Camden Town, oblivious of the rapt attention from the waiting train; and there was the son of a friend who happened to be passing the station at the end of the evening, and took me to my front door: made my evening. It is fascinating to watch wild animals in their natural habitat, with your own thoughts having to take the place of David Attenborough. Not that my friend’s son is a wild animal, of course: He’s now married with small children, so his wild days are over (at least for some decades!). And is it reasonable to describe a mouse (or if you’re posh, ‘mice’) as a wild animal? I guess if it’s having to clean a tube platform for a living, its wild days are over too, and probably for the same reasons as my friend’s son (although it, poor thing, will not have the opportunity to indulge it’s middle-aged angst later).

The more alert reader will have worked out that this week’s journey was north of Camden Town. But not very far north: I was at the Lion and Unicorn in Kentish Town. Kentish Town, as we all know, is in Ireland. I had quite forgotten this, but I was quickly reminded by the décor: the adverts plastered round the walls indicated that the only drinks available were Guinness, Bushmills and Baileys. Plus, unadvertised, the ubiquitous Fosters and Stella equivalents, since publicans, like mice, also have to make a living. It’s still Lent, but this being Ireland, they knew that only too well already: fancy having to go through the Cheltenham Festival and St Patrick’s Day during Lent. The Blackboard Notices, in green and orange chalk, invited us all to enjoy the Irish Stew, the ‘craic’, and the Gerry Kelly Roadshow on St Patrick’s. Hopeful, no doubt, of shifting lots of the aforementioned Guinness, Bushmills, and Baileys.

And there was a real moment of theatre. My companion and I sat at a little table with two stools. I sat down, and my companion stooped down to push her crash helmet (don’t ask!) under the table. At the same time, a young lady asked if she could take the other stool. Now, I couldn’t understand why she would do that, and, rather peeved, told her there were two of us here (there were plenty of stools available). She, in turn, looked peeved, and seemed distinctly reluctant to go away. A bit of a standoff followed. Then my companion stood up, and the young lady looked startled, said she thought my companion was already sitting on a stool. Good job it was a woman: if it had been a bloke, there might have been a fight!

Anyway, I was here to see The Cherry Orchard: for the second time in a week. Giving me the opportunity to compare the Fringe theatre I love with the poshest Little Theatre in England (remember ‘Little Theatre’ is a technical term). I guess this is some curious complement to Chekhov, but it was still recognisable: except for the costumes; and the set; and the Russian Peasant, who seemed actually to be a Russian Peasant! As you would expect (if you thought about it), the fringe travels much lighter, relying more on the actors. The ballroom scene, for example, seemed reduced to a single line, which, I confess, I wouldn’t have understood if I hadn’t just seen the other production make a big meal of the same scene. And, in the intimate setting of the Lion and Unicorn, full period costume would have been terrible overkill, and rather distracting.

As for the Russian Peasant, he wasn’t really Russian: he was Kosovan, which may, or may not even be Serbian any more. But his accent added just the right quality to the part. In fact, this cast was truly cosmopolitan, and ran to six nationalities.

I enjoyed this production much more, but I think that’s just me: up close to the actors in a room above a pub is better than looking down on a well-lit stage across twenty rows of plush seats. It requires me to be more involved in order to enjoy it. It’s more grown-up.

After the performance, I got to have a drink with the leading lady, who was happy to answer a lot of silly questions.

And you don’t get that Up West!