By Anthony Morris
The Orchard is a new work by Pony Cam, a high-energy experimental theatre collective who have been creating memorable shows for over five years, often operating on the “fringe” edges of mainstream theatre. Known for their physical, fresh, and unexpected ways of communicating with audiences, they once again present something that defies traditional categories.
This production opens with an ad-hoc audience Q&A, where we’re introduced to the premise: to tell the story of Anton Chekhov’s 1904 play The Cherry Orchard—but without using any of his words. We learn that half the cast are audience members chosen in the foyer before the show, while the other half are Pony Cam’s current ensemble: Claire Bird, Ava Campbell, William Strom, Dominic Weintraub, and Hugo Williams. Strom, in introducing the show, tells us it’s their “earnest attempt” to tell the story—and indeed, for its 75 minutes, the production is many things, but “earnest” is a lasting and accurate impression.
This is not a play about a play—it’s a performance about a play, and it works very hard not to be a play. At times it’s soapbox lecture, pantomime, stream-of-consciousness monologue, Eurovision Song Contest, open-mic night, first-year art student party, country-fair strong-man contest, and wood-chop event. It might sound like chaos, but this is very intentional Pony Cam theatre—held together by the clear blocking of four key elements:
- The microphone – a place for explanations and actions.
- The wood stump podium – a spot for exploring The Cherry Orchard’s themes and metaphors.
- The wings and backstage – filled with early 20th-century antiques and the audience- cast members (in quickly repurposed mothballed costumes), representing the silent, suspended original Chekhov cast.
- The central stage – where the Pony Cam ensemble asks, “What are we going to do with the orchard?” and questions everything.
The show builds to a crescendo like a live Eastern Bloc rock concert, paralleled by a ticking global-warming clock: hotter choreography, hotter costumes (think Dr Zhivago in winter), hotter language, hotter lighting, hotter sound. Hotter questions—and more damaging decisions. All of this is shaped by Sophie Woodward’s accomplished set and costume design, Harrie Hogan’s dynamic lighting, and Dans Maree Sheehan’s deft producing.
The ensemble offers an exceptional, mostly unscripted and rehearsed-improvised theatre experience. The cast riffs (sometimes like art-college debates gone on too long) on the central question—“What are we going to do with the orchard?”—with moments that are poetic, provocative, and revealing, giving us glimpses into the company’s own dynamics. The joy lies in the ensemble’s strong physical dialogue and mutual trust. Hugo Williams, with impeccable timing, content, and ability to stay in character, was the standout in the performance I saw.
The Orchard asks a single question hundreds of times and delivers hundreds of answers. Pony Cam has crafted questions that challenge our relationships, careers, life choices, politics, environment, arts funding, real estate obsessions and our ME-ME capitalist world.
On the sides of the stage, the ghosts of Chekhov’s cast observe, watching from 121 years away—when Chekhov presented a self-proclaimed comedic farce in a Russia where the middle class was rising after the end of serfdom. They, like us, may have been unsettled and provoked to consider their own “orchards.”
As the brief show notes put it: “What will you salvage? How much are you willing to let go?
How much will be taken from you?” Judging by the animated post-show conversations in the foyer and courtyard, this production succeeds in sparking reflection.
Well done to the Pony Cam team. This earnest, physical, and provocative exploration of Chekhov’s final play demands audiences to step into its dynamic world—and to see what you think and feel once the dust literally settles and your string is broken, as it did for Firs, the aging man-servant in the original production.
Image: Pia Johnson
