People leave rooms, enter rooms. Peep through windows. Hide behind doors. Everyone behaves as if they've just lost their best friend. It's all so melodramatic. There's a piano score by Tchaikovsky that plays relentlessly on the soundtrack so as to cue us to the perpetual state of melancholy. A real cheerless meandering stagey bore of a movie. Charlotte Rampling tries hard and Alan Bates looks like he wandered in from another movie.
Review of The Cherry Orchard
