And now

(Photo: Pavel Gorshkov )

For inquisitive journalists looking for an explanation for everything, the press release before retelling the plot of “Eugene Onegin” (against which the ridiculed English film is a standard of philosophical depth) says: “The action takes place in the artist’s studio. The scene turns into the Larins’ estate along the way.” This is, of course, a distraction. There is no “artist’s workshop”, although the entire stage is filled with busts of Pushkin of various sizes. “The action unfolds” on the Tagansky stage, which, as always, is equal only to itself and does not turn into anything.

Two-tier stage design: cells with curtains. The curtains are open - from each cell, as if from a stage, the actor shouts out his line from Pushkin in his own way. The curtains are closed - a shadow theater plays in the light: ladies in fluffy skirts bow, men in top hats. Curtains open, curtains close - the crackling of metal rings beats the rhythm. Those who came to see the textbook “poetic theater of Yuri Lyubimov” like “Comrade, believe ...” thirty years ago can return to the museum archives for it. The new Tagansky style, developed by Lyubimov in recent years, has little in common with the previous one. Let's call its version, which is the newest "Eugene Onegin", "energetic and entertaining" (in contrast to the "socially significant" - say, the recent "Sharashka").

Lyubimov’s fresh youth are running around the stage, and Antipov and Grabbe are among the old people. It seems that the text rushes from one to another, but the roles of the main characters are fixed, so that a stupid schoolboy will not confuse who is in love with whom and who killed whom. (Onegin, as one would expect, is Lyubimov’s new “social hero” Dmitry Mulyar, who here remains the same ringing-voiced Oleg Koshev as he was in the roles of the “civilian” repertoire.) For this very schoolboy, in fact, everything was done. On the T-shirts under the frock coats it is written “My Pushkin”, “Pushkin is our everything” or even “I love Pushkin”. Young actors on the second tier of the structure first rap: “My uncle has the most honest rules”... Indomitable fun under Pushkin occurs in rhythms that jump from jazz to “bye-bye-bye.” Then everyone pulls black stockings over their heads and wriggles to the drum in African style. “Who the hell guessed that I would be born in Russia with intelligence and talent,” Onegin jokes.

Recorded Tagansky parodist Vladislav Malenko, who portrayed political leaders in Lyubimov’s previous performances, now either howls in the manner of Voznesensky, or hums on one note like Brodsky, or sings with the breathiness of Grebenshchikov. The joke follows the joke: when talking about champagne, all the actors unanimously spit corks at the audience, when they talk about “two pairs of slender female legs,” then, having placed the actress on an antique table, they feel with interest the knotty legs of the table sticking out from under her wide skirts. Onegin, pretending to visit the theater, squeezes between the rows, squeezing the audience’s legs and innocently paraphrasing Pushkin: “I endured Taganka for a long time, / But I’m tired of Lyubimov.” Tatyana’s conversation with the nanny is conducted by two actors in caps, nasally and humming, like Mavrikievna and Nikitichna. And so on.

Don’t just ask questions about interpretation, comprehension, and generally what it all means. It only means what we see. Lyubimov (in whose voice Pushkin’s lines about “late age” are voiced in the play) over the years fell into the simplicity of the late Tolstoy, who wrote for village children. For now, however, it is unknown whether today’s children will be as delighted with Lyubimov’s performance as he is counting on. But the finale, when the troupe, dancing, comes to the front of the stage with a drum, and Malenko runs around the hall with a microphone and asks the audience to begin a stanza from “Onegin” so that the actors will continue it, clearly should be a success. True, at the press screening the journalists were unable to squeeze out anything except the same “uncle of the most honest rules.” But during the bows, Yuri Petrovich, dashingly dancing, together with his oldest artist Boris Blank (who designed “The Good Man” in 1964) consoled everyone. Probably, when the schoolchildren arrive, the best ending to the performance will be for the entire audience to join the actors in dancing and chanting. With further transition to the disco.


(Photo: Pavel Gorshkov )