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“Faust” by Eimuntas Nyakrosius in Moscow
The first performance took place on Thursday. It in no way justified the enthusiastic clicks that rang out in October after the “sketch of the play” was shown in St. Petersburg at the Baltic House. “...This “Faust” is destined to go down in the history of world theater” (Gleb Sitkovsky). “...A grandiose theatrical work, absolutely adequate to Goethe’s community” (Marina Zayonts). “...He is a great modern Lithuanian actor. And in this role the impossible plays...” (Elena Gerusova about Vladas Bagdonas). Yes, completeness to you. What the Moscow public saw was a well-thought-out, but unimpressive and tiring (almost four hours, of which two were spent on “warming up”) stage work. With twisted metaphors in poorly baked dough. With Bagdonas, who was exhausted by the weight of the words spoken by Doctor Faustus. With a good, but overly nervous actress Elzbieta Latenaite (Gretchen). It is unlikely that the action was confused - Nyakrosius builds the roles and mise-en-scène very firmly, and here the music of Faustus Latenas sounds all the time, dictating the rhythm of stage life - everything went within the limits of the rules, but with what effort, with what reluctance!During intermission, people ran away from the performance. Not with demonstrative indignation “what kind of nonsense is the theater called to me,” which is sweeter for an avant-garde artist than any applause (remember how often they tried to classify Nyakrosius as an avant-garde artist, although he does not fit into the clan camp), but guiltily. Yes, he is a genius, yes, we love him - but it’s so boring...
The unhappy performance, however, turned out to be a valuable gift for those critics (for me, in particular), whom the powerful theater of Nyakrosius fascinates, makes them forget about their duties, and returns them to simplicity. We slam our notebooks: we will dissect the stage fabric tomorrow, but now it’s a happy adventure and a miracle, not subject to immediate analysis. This was the case with the Shakespearean trilogy, The Seasons of Donelaitis, The Song of Songs; “Faust” could be viewed by thinking during the course of the action how it was done by the director. Why was it done? There is no joy, but there is a lot of benefit.
I will briefly outline the conclusions, in which, I think, there is nothing fundamentally new. In Nyakrosius's latest performances, less and less space is occupied by the plot, the course of events, the connection of causes and effects. He erases genre scenes from Faust: a feast with the burghers, a duel with Valentin (Gretchen's brother is played by Kestitus Jakstas), the broken Martha and the evil-tongued Lieschen - poetry, aka metaphysics, is cleared of all unnecessary, without, however, becoming abstract speculation.
Theaters that express themselves in the language of symbols (symbols are not completely exhausted by any interpretation) are not allowed to renounce the flesh of things, their texture. Eimuntas Nekrošius and his son Marius, who became a permanent artist at the Meno Fortas theater, are least inclined to abstractions. They are in love with nature, with matter, and very much understand Faust, who prays to the “blessed spirit”: “You gave nature to me for use, / Gave me the strength to admire it.” Let us note the wonderful word “use”: it implies focus and acumen. The ups and downs can be ignored.
Further, the “forest of symbols” in Faust, as in the two previous performances by Nyakrosius, is precisely a “forest” - it is decentralized. Here you will not find the main symbolic object, such as, for example, the stone sky in Macbeth or the stripped piano with office accounts on the music stand in Mozart and Salieri. The sign of the first act (Prologue in Heaven and Faust's Easter Night) is a swing with shoulders of unequal length: on the long one sits a slouched God (Povilas Budrys), and a frail, fidgety little devil, Mephistopheles' adjutant, clings to the short shoulder (excellent work by Vaidas Vilius). God shakes it off with disgust, then takes hold of the end of the heavy beam and walks in a circle, like a tired mill horse. The swing turns into a gate: God, exhausted, rotates the Earth, falls to his knees, places the beam on his lower back, and crawls on all fours. Let us note the detail: when Mephistopheles (Salvius Trepulis) wants to make a trial, partly mocking circle, he will grab the beam from God and run easily, without the slightest effort - for him this is not work, but fun. (In parentheses, one can recall Mandelstam’s: “He rules with a noseless gimp / He rules, cheering the soul, / So that the sweet and sour land turns like a carousel” - the prince of this world, of course!) Let us also note: God and Mephistopheles in Goethe do not coexist in a Christian way, and according to the Old Testament laws (as in the Book of Job), they are rivals, but not sworn enemies. Nyakrosius explained this with wonderful expressiveness - God the Worker, who cannot tear himself away from work, asked the demon who appeared, nodding his head: scratch my back - there, between the shoulder blades... Such little things are precious.
The sign of the second act (Faust's conversations with Wagner and the agreement with Mephistopheles) is a huge, more than three meters, tibia, whitening in the middle of the scene. The demon, as we remember, appears to Faust as a homeless poodle: where there is a dog, there is a bone, of course. However, let us also understand that a bone gnawed clean is all that Mephistopheles will throw to Faust in exchange for an immortal soul. The illusion of freedom turned into worthlessness; the illusion of love turned into seduction and shame. If you look for a moral in Nyakrosius’s performance (which may not be without meaning), it will be strict and simple-minded: deals with the devil are always unprofitable.
One can only admire the director's score in the second act. Nyakrosius is a great master of stage metaphor, a tireless inventor of unprecedented signs: they amaze the imagination, but their interdependence and subordination evoke delight. The second act is a brief history of spiritual fall, the story of how a wise and powerful man, but unable to stop himself, becomes the plaything of a demon. Every milestone is celebrated. Here Faust gets all dressed up in front of Wagner (Vladas Bagdonas is very accurate: his Faust is sad, despises his interlocutor, but still does not fail to show off), then he takes an extremely suspicious dog into the house, then the dog turns into a demon. Again a wonderful detail: Mephistopheles-Trepulis speaks the first phrases in a compressed, hoarse voice, a tight bandage (formerly a collar) compresses his throat; Faust unwinds it, providing the demon with not the least service. After this, everything will go like clockwork for Mephistopheles - with only one hitch. Signing a contract with blood (“Blood, you need to know, is a very special juice”) is still scary for Faust.
For a trivial-minded director, Mephistopheles would most likely have pulled out some parchment scroll from his bosom or from the air; with Nyakrosius everything is simpler and scarier. The demons take a thin rope, tie a knot in the middle - here's the contract, let's sign it: poke something here, and you're done. Faust hesitates. Gesture: move away, I don’t want you in front of me. The demons obediently run back to the back of the stage, but peeping voluptuously: well, already? Faust, with a gesture: further. Demons at the back, the same game: come on! At that second when Faust “signs” (the irreparable is done, and Bagdonas’s play obliges us to understand this), Mephistopheles experiences something like an orgasm. The scene lasts about three minutes, and they are unforgettable.
But still, the best scene of the second act (I think of the play as a whole) is the one where Faustus begins to translate the Gospel of John. He is in the center, in front of him are several open books. “In the beginning was the Word.” Bagdonas, having said this, slowly and intently bends down (he looks like a weightlifter grasping an apparatus), with a confident gesture, as if he scoops up a phrase, holds it, incredibly heavy, in handfuls, examines, ponders: “...From the first lines/ A riddle. Did I get the hint?" Then he transfers it and carefully lowers it into another book, on the right. A new version of the translation-interpretation - “In the Beginning There Was a Thought” - will go to the new book, and the same will happen with “Strength” and “Deed”.
And wordless black spirits scurry around, they take out piles of books, take them apart, lay them out around Faust, begin to fan each other with two-handed fans - and the air flies in gusts onto the open pages: to the right, to the left, from behind. The rustle of pages is so loud that it can no longer be called a rustle. Trembling books talk to each other without needing the services of a translator: the printed word has become alive. What simplicity of techniques and what density of meanings: only Nyakrosius can do such things.
The third action sign is missing. One can, of course, consider it a “sign” that the stage is filled with ominous truncated cones: they are variously decorated, cast in metal and sometimes begin to smoke like hills. Since Marius Nyakrosius made small windows in the walls, one might think that these are not hills, but yurts, but in fact we have before us something between “natural” and “man-made” - something different (if we remember the second part of “Faust” - "Lemurier") In the first act there were four of these cones, in the second there were six, now there are ten. One of them hides Margarita, the other - a casket with jewelry, which Faust will present to his future lover and victim.
On November 16, the final act seemed like a heap of directorial and acting omissions. The performance was running at idle. In “Walpurgis Night,” Faust and Mephistopheles, who were calmly sitting on chairs at the edges of the stage and discussing the flight to Brocken (“Hurry up and grab something, / Otherwise you’ll fall down the cliff”), were painfully reminiscent of the warlike Negritos from “Wampuka.” (“Let’s run! Let’s run quickly! Now we’ll catch up with them!”). Elzbieta Latenaite was so zealous that after the performance it was discussed: is Gretchen, according to the director’s plan, a witcher and a servant of Mephistopheles? Isn’t she the one who appears at the Sabbath (remember: in Goethe, the gorgon Medusa appears in the guise of Margarita), etc. On the 17th everything fell into place and ended with a natural ovation.
Latenaite worked smart and collected. She restrained her extraordinary acting temperament: this did not prevent her from seeing in the heroine a girlish wildness, inflamed sensuality and, most importantly, a willingness to live, “heeling and not looking for salvation” (Khodasevich). Latenaite played the distraught Gretchen, awaiting execution, simply wonderfully: on a par with Bagdonas, who (confirmed on the 17th) is truly a great Lithuanian actor. This should be especially emphasized, since in the last scene of the play Faust is assigned a passive role, Margarita - an active one.
“Where did you lose your former passion?/ You were mine. Who stole you? - the director, almost the only time in the play, reinforces Margarita’s last complaints with illustrative gestures (the main source of poetic energy in Nyakrosius’ “Faust” is the tension between verbal and physical actions, unexpected for each other). Gretchen presses her hands to her former lover's chest, then quickly, quickly knocks with her fingertips: this is where the heart should beat. Again he listens, again he hears nothing, again he speaks pitiful, beautiful words. And the demon is already hurrying his charge.
In the finale, Mephistopheles will again meet and argue with God: “- She/ Condemned to torment! - Saved! “Condemned - saved... Condemned - saved...” - this bickering will continue until the curtain closes.
So: lack of interest in the plot; decentralization of the symbolic series; searching for unusual collisions of word and gesture; repetition of mise-en-scène or physical action, which has the meaning of rhyme, are the main ingredients of Nyakrosius's poetic theater. The fact that all this is held together by the director’s genius need not be mentioned.