Russian theatre
Creative confusion
Claudia Woolgar found Russia's present turmoil reflected in its theatres
Confusing variety appears to be the new order in the theatres of Russia, reflect- ing the fragmentation of the former Soviet Union and the current chaos of Russian society. In St Petersburg, the historical heart of revolutionary fervour, a modern-day mys- tery play is being developed to mark the 290th anniversary of the foundation of the city. The Interierney Theatre Company, under the directorship of Nikolai Beliak, have created an architectural pageant which combines elements of carnival, circus and theatre with Shakespeare, Pushkin and Blok. Their aim is to draw attention to the plight of the city, which Beliak believes is crumbling into total and irreparable decay. Perfectly detailed replicas of its noble buildings have been recreated as costumes and, by walking St Petersburg's history through its present-day streets, Beliak hopes to urge the city's inhabitants to care about its future.
At the heart of the mystery play is an anachronistic struggle between Lenin and Peter the Great for control of the city, which is represented, according to ancient tradition, by a young child. As crowds gather again outside the Winter Palace, and black marketeers continue to sell 17th- century antiques for a few dollars, it seems a new figure — democracy — has joined the cast.
In Moscow, too, there is a curious cast strutting the boards. A company from Tad- jikistan was there, performing a play with a 'I'm worried about all the stretch marks.' clearly nationalistic message. The Akhou- run State Theatre presented Joseph the Lost Will Return to Canaan by Faroukh Kosim, a piece illustrating how uncomfort- able the imposed umbrella of the CIS is, and how fragile its apparent unity. It is an extraordinary play, combining the Biblical story of Joseph and forceful Christian images with Muslim costumes and songs.
The simplicity of the play is its strength. Intimate moments are used to trumpet its cry for peaceful unity. At one moment Joseph is invited by his brothers to warm his hands on a stove, only to have them clamped against the scalding metal and burnt. Later Joseph's whole body shudders, racked with the pain of his suffering, and around the stage all his brothers shudder too as they realise the senseless brutality of their actions. Today a bloody civil war rages in Tadjikistan as the communists fight the Afghan-backed Muslims. At the end, Joseph's body is broken on a wheel by his brothers and he dies appealing to rea- son and goodness in men: 'Let us not hurt each other, for in the end we shall all die and our brotherhood will fall apart if we do not save it now.'
Another of the satellites of the former Soviet Union was also represented on a visit to Moscow. Under the directorship of Eimuntas Nekrosius, the Lithuanian State Theatre performed Pirosmani, Pirosmani by V. Korostyliov. The play speaks of the life and creative works of the well-known Georgian artist Nico Pirosmani, and is exquisitely beautiful. By its very nature, the play celebrates the cultural diversity of this huge Confederation, pitting the longevity of art against the inconsequential confu- sion of its creator's life.
Pirosmani's canvases are animated on stage and speak to him about his life and his art, forming a somewhat despairing look at the final day of his life. Each scene is itself sculptured and painted on to the stage and then coated in a soft, sepia light. The piece unfolds in magical images uncomplicated by words. Near the end of the play Pirosmani meticulously lays out a line of chairs for his invited guests. But his mistress comes back to taunt him, driving him closer and closer to death as Pirosmani shuffles along the chairs and she throws them violently away behind him. The final scene is highly charged as Pirosmani (Vladas Bagdonas) dies and his 'guardian angel' (Vidas Petkevicius) covers him in the dust that he will become. Ultimately all that remains on stage is an image from one of his paintings: a small model of a church nestling alone on stage in a blazing spot- light, as this creator's life is scattered into oblivion.
Moscow's studio theatres, on the other hand, present the relatively unchallenging voice of youth. A student rendition of Faulkner's Sound and Fury proved unimag- inative, so I followed the leather-jacketed crowds flocking to see one of Russia's pre- mier rock stars turned actor. A Berkoff lookalike, Petr Mamonov gives a perfor- mance of the most controlled imbalance and physical abandon in The Bald Brunette by Daniel Gink. A tale of personal inade- quacy and embarrassment in the presence of women and indeed of life itself, this faintly amusing but thin text is saved by its setting: a surreal backdrop of bold colours, a blue wardrobe and transparent glass cabi- net or cage, and Mamonov's music — caco- phonic and anarchic — enhancing the impression of a world in which nothing is what it seems.
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