St Ann’s Warehouse: How We Value Theatre’s Historical Footprint

Calder Wysong ’27

St. Ann’s Warehouse is, in a lot of ways, not too different from a hole-in-the-wall kind of restaurant. You arrive with zero expectations, see a production of a show that your parents decided to drag you along to, and walk out feeling much better about the state of theatre in the city beyond Broadway. When I first went to St. Ann’s on a Saturday afternoon, I wasn’t too inclined to go all the way out on the A line to High Street for the sake of watching Chekhov’s The Cherry Orchard, which would last between three to four hours. However, the show that came alive in that small industrial building surpassed my expectations. In fact, visiting the warehouse gave me a sense of security about how far classical theatre has come. I found myself in complete awe, and, as I headed home, I wondered extensively about St. Ann’s history. I knew it had been a factory prior to becoming a theatre space, but what prompted such a transformation? 

Although the theatre moved following 9/11, it was initially based in the Church of St. Ann and The Holy Trinity, considered a National Historic Landmark on Montague Street in Brooklyn Heights. Instead of theatre, much of the original programs were choirs, opera programs and organ recitals. Yet, the space’s rise in popularity led to performance from a number of distinguished, well-known groups performing there–including from the Chamber Music Society of Lincoln Center, which offered preview concerts from 1981-1983. This reputation was also key in securing the theatre a spot on the international stage, with actors such as Marianne Faithfull casted at the old theatre. This kind of international theatrical appeal was key in expanding the group to theatrical productions. Of course, the theatre continued music productions the entire time, including rock, jazz, and even blues performances. . On the tenth anniversary of the theatre’s showings, the Rolling Stones praised the theatre for being “the guiding light in New York’s avant-rock scene.” It’s abundantly obvious, really, that the relevance of St. Ann’s Warehouse isn’t a contemporary rush. Even prior to its current location, St. Ann’s has undoubtedly carried influence throughout the theatre world. Yet, with the overwhelming popularity of large-scale productions throughout Broadway, it’s seemingly lost some of that influence that made it stand out as an acting haven in the city.

Following 9/11, the theatre’s outreach extended to an old spice milling factory at 38 Water Street in DUMBO, where it remains to this day. Compared to its former location, the DUMBO area was a hub for the Brooklyn theatre community. As a result, the theatre’s influence grew, marked by its collaboration with the theatre company The Wooster Group. In just 5 years, from 2002 to 2007, the company produced a staggering 10 shows, including a showing of The Reading in 2002 featuring Al Pacino. In its new location, St. Ann’s relationships with international theatre houses strengthened, with London’s Royal Court Theatre and Poland’s TR Warszawa being representatives at a number of productions, using the warehouse as a hub for their theatrical endeavors. And, really, this was key in helping the facility expand to even greater lengths. The theatre showed two World Premiere productions, including a highly-acclaimed, live performance of Lou Reed’s Berlin in 2007. During my visit to see Chekhov’s The Cherry Orchard, I was oblivious to the all-rounded reputation Saint Ann’s has cultivated over the years. And, in spite of that, my experience at the show was absolutely wonderful.

One of the initial things that stuck out to me was how different the warehouse functioned compared to Broadway productions that appeal to tourism. Even the seating was different, as the stage was surrounded by the audience instead of looking out on it. I hadn’t noticed at first, but the cast was sparsely mingled among the audience as the show began. For those who haven’t read or seen the play, it follows Ranevskaya (played by Nina Hoss), the head of a fallen-from-grace wealthy family, forced to sell off her beloved cherry orchard to pay off a number of debts. The acting, while not only brilliant, did an excellent job of adapting the play to be more suitable for a modern audience–which is considered a common feature of Chekhov’s plays. The production served as not only a means of using the actors in a contemporary manner, but also aided the audience in understanding the thematic direction the play was taking to critique the class system in a contemporary society. In consideration of these ideas, one of the highlights of the show was the brilliant performance of Adeel Akhtar, who played Lopakhin, the former proletariat friend of the Ranevsky family., In one scene, he goes on a drunken tirade and discusses his deal (spoiler alert) buying the cherry orchard. This scene, especially, conveyed the message of the struggles of the class system that Chekhov was trying to convey, while simultaneously delivering the actor’s excellent skills on a separate front. Seeing the once-poor Lopakin confront those who, to an extent, led him into both ruin and fortune was brilliant, for lack of a better word. 

The experience was stunning, really. The play wasn’t just a means of conveying some kind of societal commentary, though, in spite of its excellent job of doing so. Really, it’s not just a chance to see an unconventional style of theatrical performance when visiting St. Ann’s. Above all else, it’s an opportunity to be immersed in a kind of history behind theatre that, in spite of great successes, is unrepresented when compared to larger productions. We consider the lights and sounds of Broadway so familiar to us, while there are plenty of gems like St. Ann’s scattered throughout the city, unseen in proportion to these larger productions. It sets a kind of precedent to where and when we view art, and why–when it’s popularized, put at center stage. Isn’t it on us, then, to give wholehearted support to groups like this–not just St. Ann’s, but anywhere?

The Bardvark