In a play so heavily laden with dialogue, the staging is crucial to maintain a sense of movement, and Mendes accomplishes it impressively, especially when, immediately following Trofimov’s speech, a line of serfs appear backstage and slowly move forward, foreshadowing an attack or revolution that the family appears to be blissfully unaware of.

One has to wonder, however if The Cherry Orchard would pack such a powerful punch if America were not in the throes of its own economic crisis. How many Madame Ranevskyays are going over their checkbooks on Park Avenue right now, wondering where exactly all of her money went? How many Trofimovs are shaking their heads and fists over the Wall Street bailouts? It is thanks to a superbly talented cast that this play delivers such an emotional impact, especially Cusack’s Ranevskaya, who is a fluttery, charming, childlike woman, both sympathetic and infuriating at the same time. After listening to her talk carelessly about her family’s financial troubles, one cannot decide whether to hug her or shake her. As Lopakhin, Beale depicts a man so firm in his convictions and proud of his accomplishments, and so rooted in succeeding in the future, one wishes we had him in charge Congress right now. He is not a flawless protagonist, however, and one particularly tender scene with Varya is truly heartbreaking moment and a testament to both actors’ incredible skill.

Despite all of its accomplishments, and there are many, The Cherry Orchard did not leave this critic feeling satisfied. Although every effort is made to ensure the audience is left with a note of wistful, haunting sadness, the lingering emotion is that of curiosity and puzzlement. The same could be said of many decisions taking place in Washington D.C.