Only old men went into battle

"Woe from Wit" by Sergei Zhenovach on the stage of the Maly Theater

The premiere, played yesterday in the bastion of theatrical traditionalism, is one of those for which critics and theatergoers have special hopes. If we evaluate the production in the light of these hopes, we can safely say that it was not a success - it did not open up new theatrical names to Moscow, did not amaze with the novelty of the concept, and did not become a turning point in the director’s work. If we take a break from expectations and consider the performance as such, we can find many merits in it. To begin with, almost for the first time on the oldest stage, instead of “historically accurate” outfits and boring interiors, there appeared elegant costumes by Olga Yarmolnik (Sophia’s dress a la modern is especially good) and stylish Suprematist scenery by Alexander Barkhin (multi-colored movable boards on which The light falls from the windows at an angle of 45 degrees; in the middle there is a fireplace with a real fire). The rejection of the benefit style of playing also seems revolutionary for the Ostrovsky House. When you remember how the appearance of each star in Oleg Menshikov's play of the same name was arranged (a long pause, loud music and - here she is, my dear, she appeared), it is difficult not to pay tribute to the restrained and intelligent manner demonstrated by the luminaries of Maly.

At first, it generally seems that Zhenovach managed to find that ideal combination of directorial will and acting freedom, which could turn out to be saving for the theater, which throughout the 20th century stood on the sidelines of production quests and battles. The opening scenes are wonderful. The director solves them in the spirit of a traditional European comedy: two lovers, a maid helping them and a strict father preventing the reunion. All sorts of small details are very good. And the elderly Petrusha with a pot, going out to the line “everything in the house has risen.” And the way Famusov (Yuri Solomin), who has just failed with a maid, is indignant at Molchalin (Alexander Vershinin) - he is young, a bastard, so luck smiles on him. And how, having mentioned the smoke of the fatherland, Chatsky (Gleb Podgorodinsky) with pleasure inhales the smoke from the fireplace.

Funny details appear later. But the further you go, the fewer details become, and the more platitudes become. And joyful hope - oh, how good the exposition is, there will be something in the main part - as if the smoke from the fireplace is dissipating. The ball deflates without ever taking off.

In the second act, the performance begins to seem completely boring, inarticulate, and the young shoots of Maly, who, for obvious reasons, got almost all the main roles, are completely lost against the background of the “old people”. Both Viktor Pavlov (played by Zagoretsky - almost Khlestakov) and Tatyana Pankova (Princess Tugoukhovskaya) give this shoot a hundred points ahead. Not to mention the absolutely brilliant Yuri Solomin. It is his Famusov who turns out to be the central character of the play. There is little imposingness in it, but the energy is overflowing. He is ready to joke familiarly with the servant and scold Chatsky like a father - what are you talking about, why are you in the Carbonaria? He doesn’t want harm to anyone, but is simply trying to protect his daughter. And what goes wrong in calculations doesn’t happen to anyone. In general, he is not some kind of special retrograde, but simply a caring dad and an old womanizer (the passing phrase: “She hasn’t given birth yet, but according to calculations, in my opinion, she should give birth” - Solomin pronounces in such a way that the audience involuntarily feels suspicion: maybe it’s from him?)

Next to such “old men”, the young ones are not that bad - say, Repetilov (Dmitry Zenichev) or Skalozub (Viktor Nizovoy), who looks like General Lebed, are played quite well, but, as Scrambled eggs used to say about suitors, they are a little thin. It is almost impossible to understand what role in this whole story (stage, of course, and not literary) is assigned to Molchalin, what role to Sofya (Irina Leonova), what role to Chatsky (played by Podgorodinsky, who is very similar to Chatsky-Menshikov, only without the latter’s charm and talent). . It is clear that the main character is not heroized, but also not debunked. That this is a sincere and passionate person. That he loves Sophia passionately and deeply, just as Sophia herself loves Molchalin. But such an explanation is unlikely to satisfy those who expected that “Woe from Wit” would be not just a good performance, but an Event.

The event, it seems to me, is different. The fact is that the calculations of theater analysts and forecasters turned out to be incorrect. They believed that the main stumbling block for Zhenovach would be the Maly stars. And they, on the contrary, became a help and demonstrated the readiness and ability to work with a director who, without indulging in formalist delights, could protect them from theatrical vulgarity and give the play an ensemble feel. And this in itself is worth a lot. In any case, it indicates that a marriage between a great theater and the talented Zhenovach can be concluded out of love, that their genetic code in some very general ways coincides, and that the artists of the good old Maly will no longer frighten each other with the word “director.”

Marina DAVYDOVA