IT is often a bit of a mystery to English audiences holding back the tears from performances of Three Sisters or Uncle Vanya to be told that Chekhov plays were intended as comedies. Even an attempt to perform The Cherry Orchard as broad comedy can come over as uncomfortably clunky.

Back in 1973 Neil Simon wrote The Good Doctor, a play with music based on ten of the great Russian writer’s short stories, within the framework of a narrator (Chekhov himself) sketching incidents in his life. It is quite brilliant, more successfully capturing the tragi-comedic aspects of the writing than anything I have seen in a lifetime of theatregoing.

So thanks to Richard Culham and Amateur Players of Sherborne for unearthing this rarely-performed jewel and creating such a delightful, illuminating, thought-provoking and very funny evening.

The programme includes a photograph of Chekhov in his study in 1895, and set designer John Crabtree has recreated that study at the side of the stage, opening onto a studio theatre where the writer can try out his works. This is immersive theatre in miniature for the Sherborne audience, and one play even brings the director into the audience to audition an eager would-be actress. After APS’s unforgettable Our Country’s Good in June this year, it underlines just how flexible the tiny space can be, and the astonishing depth and breadth of talent among the company members.

It all starts as Alex Scrivenor’s Chekhov talks about his compulsion to write and the insecurities and hesitancies that accompany it. He is an actor perfectly at ease with the audience, constantly breaking the “fourth wall” to chat as inspirations strike, making the doctor/writer a warm, endearing and very relatable person whose keen observations of human nature allow the creation of pitch-perfect vignettes, each one skewering real life.

There’s a petty government officer (Richard Jones) who sneezes over his boss at the theatre, and whose insecurity makes the accidental nasal explosion into an overwhelming incident. There’s a naive governess duped by her domineering mistress, and an eager but incompetent dentist (Rachel Butcher) whose first extraction is a disaster (not comfortable viewing for me, two weeks after a dental visit whose impact is still very keenly felt). There is the hesitancy of involvement in old age, delicately done by Martin Williams and Sally Matthews. The first half concludes as the diffident narrator transforms himself before our eyes into a scheming lothario, deservedly known as a seducer of married women.

Two old military men meet weekly to debate – this time the perfect lunch, over which battle lines are quickly drawn. Here Milborne Port Opera’s Richard Gaunt crosses courses with Adrian Harding, and neither actor has ever been better.

Cameron Thrower, the extractee, comes back as a tramp who feigns drowning for cash from eager passers by. Sarah Probert is the obliging auditionee who enlivens all of Chekhov’s three sisters, Samantha Elgar shows the power of persistence and George Lipop comes west from Sturminster Newton to play the writer as a young man, encouraged by his father (again Mr Scrivenor) to man-up at the local brothel.

All the 11 actors double up in vivid characterisations, delighting the audience and leaving us richly entertained and impressed, with lots to think about. Richard Culham’s directoral debut with APS is a triumph, delicately capturing the hilarity and pathos of human foibles. I can’t understand why the play is not performed more frequently – perhaps just because not many companies could muster the forces to do it so very well.

GP-W