The Cherry Orchard ** C-

Many consider “The Cherry Orchard” to be Chekhov’s masterpiece. I do not share that opinion. To me, it falls short in many respects. It revisits many themes that Chekhov addressed more artfully in his earlier plays, particularly in “Uncle Vanya.” It has too many characters to develop more than sketchily. Furthermore, most of these characters are insufficiently compelling to merit our attention. The plot has an element that I have never understood: it defies reason that Ranevskaya (Diane Lane) would hold a party on the very day that her estate is to be auctioned. However, the verdict of history is that the play is a major classic, so it was intriguing to see what a promising American playwright, Stephen Karam, would do with it in his “new version” for Roundabout Theatre.

The verdict is mixed. The translation is quite idiomatic, but the central concept of the production did not work for me. Karam tries to draw analogies between the effects of serfdom in Russia and the legacy of slavery in America. Instead of nontradtional (P.C. for colorbiind) casting, we have color-coded casting. Three characters who represent Russia’s future — nouveau riche landowner Lopakhin (Harold Perrineau), proletarian student Trofimov (Kyle Beltran) and the lucky neighbor Simeon-Pischik (Chuck Cooper) — and one who escapes it — manservant Yasha (Maurice Jones) — are all played by black actors. All the others, who are more or less victims of social change, are played by white actors — Ranevskaya, her daughterr Anya (Tavi Gevison), her stepdaughter Vanya (Celia Keenan-Bolger), her brother Gaev (John Glover), governess Charlotta Ivanovna (Tina Benko), clerk Yepikhodov (Quinn Mattfield), maid Dunyasha (Susannah Flood) and servant Firs (Joel Grey). It’s an interesting idea, but I did not think it was a valid analogy. For one thing, serfdom was not based on race. I'm not sure why the tramp who interrupts the picnic scene suddenly begins reciting Emma Lazarus's "The New Colossus."

Most of the actors were creditable, but not memorable; however, they did not seem to be working as an ensemble. The party scene, lively to a fault, seemed to belong to a different play. The incidental music by Nico Muhly did not suggest Russia. A brief melody after the party scene incongruously recalled the “mazel tov” song heard at Jewish celebrations. Scott Pask’s set design was low-key, although I did like the Calderesque mobiles that represented the cherry trees. There’s an area rug in act one that two actors tripped on. Some of Michael Krass's costuming choices were puzzling, especially a particularly garish outfit for Lopakhin. Director Simon Godwin, an import from London, did not seem to have a sure grip on the material. It isn’t a terrible production, just a misguided one. Running time: two hours 20 minutes including intermission.

The Oldest Boy ****

Lincoln Center Theater is presenting the world premiere of this fascinating work by Sarah Ruhl, one of our most versatile and interesting playwrights. Her plays are so varied that it is difficult to find a common denominator other than flashes of her intelligence and humor. The present work almost has the aura of a fairy tale. An American woman identified only as Mother (a superb Celia Keenan-Bolger) is married to a Tibetan refugee (James Yaegashi) who owns a restaurant in an unnamed American city. Each of them has broken an engagement to marry. One day two Tibetan Buddhist monks (Jon Norman Schneider and James Saito) pay an unexpected visit. They think that the family’s three-year old son may be the reincarnation of an important Buddhist teacher. When the son (Ernest Abuba) passes their tests, they are convinced that he is indeed their late teacher reborn and ask to take him back to India, their home in exile, to be educated in their monastery. I will say no more about the outcome. Rebecca Taichman, who has directed many of Ruhl’s previous plays, once again demonstrates her affinity for Ruhl’s sensibility. It is hard to imagine a better production. The sets by Mimi Lien, the gorgeous costumes by Anita Yavich, the evocative lighting by Japhy Weideman, the sound design by Darron L. West, the puppetry by Matt Acheson, the choreography by Barney O’Hanlon and Taichman’s skillful direction combined to weave an almost hypnotic spell over me. It was a stimulating experience. Running time: 2 hours including intermission.

The Glass Menagerie ***

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Whenever the critics seem to be competing to see who can lavish the most praise on a play, I begin to worry that I am being set up for disappointment. To some extent, that is the case here. While I will grant that the current Broadway version of Tennessee Williams' iconic early masterpiece, under the direction of John Tiffany,  has an intelligent unified vision, I do not think that it is a definitive version for the ages. Bob Crowley's symbolic set emphasizing the isolation from reality of the Wingfields' apartment is an interesting choice. Nico Muhly's incidental music is quietly evocative. Steven Hoggett's stylized movement design seemed more often a distraction than an asset. Crowley's costumes for the women seemed off -- Amanda's gown in the last act seemed better suited to Miss Havisham. To my surprise, the main disappointment for me was Cherry Jones as Amanda. I found her monotonously strident and lacking any trace of vulnerability in the early scenes. Zachary Quinto made a fine Tom. The scene between Laura (Celia Keenan-Bolger) and the gentleman caller (Brian J. Smith) was beautifully rendered. I feel like Scrooge, but I can't honestly say that I was swept away by this production. I liked it, but I didn't love it. Running time: 2 hours, 45 minutes including intermission.

Peter and the Starcatcher **

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I wish that I could join the chorus of praise for Rick Elice's Peter Pan prequel, which moved to Broadway from the New York Theatre Workshop. Unfortunately, despite inventive stagecraft, committed performances (especially by the three leads -- Christian Borle, Celia Keenan-Bolger and Adam Chanler-Berat), a wonderful scenic design by Donyale Werle, fine costumes by Paloma Young, pleasant music by Wayne Barker, terrific lighting by Jeff Croiter and assured direction by Roger Rees and Alex Timbers, the play did not captivate me. The first fart joke should have been a warning signal. The frenzied action, sophomoric humor and stratospheric twee quotient merely wore me down. All the cleverness did not compensate for the play's basic hollowness. Since everyone around me, especially the children, seemed to be having a wonderful time, I felt that the fault must surely be mine. It was an alienating experience. Running time: 2 hours, 15 minutes including intermission.