Writer-director Simon Stone and dramaturg Yi Dan-bi present quite an inventive adaptation of Anton Chekhov’s classic The Cherry Orchard set in South Korea today. The production is performed in Korean with projected English supertitles at the Park Avenue Armory in its North American premiere. Feverishly interpreted by a 10-member ensemble in a visually striking show, the drama traces, more or less, Chekhov’s people and story regarding an aristocratic family in decline. As the four seasons change, they worry about losing their picturesque country home to debtors but cannot rouse themselves to any responsible action.
Theatergoers familiar with the 1904 Russian drama will discern how cleverly the adapters have transformed nearly all of Chekhov’s characters into modern Korean individuals whose situations and traits are not so different from their originals. The trickster governess is gone, while the elderly family retainer has been rejuvenated as a moony young driver crushing on the maid. Expect otherwise to meet again mostly old acquaintances casually dressed in 2026 clothes and attitudes.
The still-lovely matriarch returning home from years abroad, coolly portrayed by award-winning South Korean star Jeon Do-yeon, remains an irresponsible, self-centered romantic. The entrepreneur who attempts to rescue the family finances, soulfully depicted as a lonely guy by Squid Game notable Park Hae-soo, remains awkward about his humble beginnings. Amiably played by Son Sang-kyu, the character of the dilettante brother who once upon a time rhapsodized about an old bookcase now goes into similar ecstasies over a vintage record player. The drama retains the original’s four episodes denoting the passage of a year, staged in two acts.
There are some noticeable differences, however. Jeon’s sophisticated lady obviously is an alcoholic. The friendship between a perpetual student and Jeon’s younger daughter erupts into a full-blown affair and sees them going off as a couple. A poignant party sequence proves a drunken, rather joyless, shindig. There’s considerable information regarding the failing company, why it got that way, and how its ruin will affect thousands of workers’ lives. Going beyond extraneous story issues, certain stretches of dialogue and especially the bold secondary performances delivered under Stone’s sometimes stylized direction are more emotionally intense than one generally finds in Chekhov productions. Newcomers to the play will discover not a bittersweet study in aristocratic stasis so much as a melodrama about the family business.
The extremities in the text, staging, and performances—resonating with a faint echo in the sound design and electronic music by Jang Young Gyu—are consonant with the memorable visuals provided by scenic designer Saul Kim and lighting designer James Farncombe set against the looming, blackness of the Armory’s vast Drill Hall. Not a blossom of the cherry orchard appears, since it apparently is planted with the audience. The Korean text makes much ado about the mansion, actually a guest or party house said to be an architectural masterpiece somewhere on the family estate. It is rendered here as literally a glass house of abstract triangular shape; the stepped, sloping roofline suggesting a spiny stegosaurus—rather a nice touch to situate these characters on the verge of social extinction within a ghostly dinosaur. Although the grand scale of the production precludes intimacy, the director and the lighting designer make excellent strategic use of the gleaming structure and its glowing possibilities to tell afresh Chekhov’s old story.
The Cherry Orchard opened Sept. 16, 2026, at the Park Avenue Armory and runs through Sept. 26. Tickets and information: armoryonpark.org
