On the tongue

Performances of classical plays are performed on fashion catwalks

There is nothing new about performing a classic play on the runway for fashion shows. A long time ago, Kamenkovich staged Wilde’s “The Importance of Being Serious” with the first generation of the “Fomenko Workshop” right at the Slava Zaitsev Fashion House. But then there was nothing special about the reception, and they played the play quite traditionally, they just let us see the beautiful costumes, walking back and forth across the tongue. But now I had to see two “podium” performances in a row, staged not only in different theaters, but even in different countries, and both of them wanted to be a statement specifically about the modeling business. It seems that show business now seems to many people to be a mirror or a metaphor for life. Why not? The only important thing is whether the director has something to report about this life from the podium.

The first was a production of “The Thunderstorm” in the small Riga theater “Observatory”, directed by Galina Polishchuk, who graduated from GITIS six years ago. The performance is performed in the foyer of the Latvian National Theatre, a luxurious white hall with amazing stucco moldings and high arched windows. There are only a few rows of spectators, and in front of them is a narrow path leading to a billboard with the inscription: “Marfa Kabanova’s Fashion House.” The play is called “We” - For some reason Polishchuk was afraid that without changing the title her statement about today would be incomprehensible. But everything is obvious from the first minutes: the few heroes of the heavily shortened and slightly added play are models, squeezed into the iron fist of the still young, elegant blonde, business owner Marfa Ignatievna. And the wanderer Feklusha is a secular journalist who endures gossip, tormenting everyone with questions and not listening to answers.

While finishing Ostrovsky's text, Polishchuk first of all settled scores with brainless journalism - she composed idiotic reports and stupid ratings, meaningfully empty questions and pretentious answers (it was worth listening to Kabanova talk for television cameras about the lack of spirituality of the Internet). From the outside, all these attacks looked typical, but from the reaction of the audience it became clear that the satire had a specific address: the public recognized both the journalists and the transparently veiled names of the newspapers.

The five “Observatory” actors specifically immersed themselves in the fashion world: they learned to walk the catwalk correctly, strike poses, and pose for fashion shoots. The costumes for them were created by four fashionable Riga couturiers, and the premiere of the “regeneration” of “Thunderstorm” took place at the opening of Riga Fashion Week on the premises of the Riga Stock Exchange. The actors later said that real models and designers took the performance seriously, recognized themselves and, saddened, later complained that they really felt enslaved by their owners, who controlled every step and demanded silent obedience and dazzling smiles for the press and clients. At the performance, indeed, once again the thought occurred to me that a classical text is capable of withstanding and pulling out any interpretation, if only you take it seriously.

The performance was performed in Latvian, but its leitmotif was the song of the Russian group “Banderos” “Columbia Pictures does not represent”: “I don’t care... on the charts. From Prada, Gucci and D&G outfits. No need. We’re already in a match...” Karina Tatarinova played the curly, fragile Katerina as somehow otherworldly; it seemed that anyone could lead her by the hand - she walked along the catwalk automatically, looked over heads and saw something of her own. Her lover Boris (Arthurs Kruzkops) was no better than the rest. But the main couple here were the Kabanovs: young Marfa Ignatievna, played by the very famous beautiful Latvian actress Reziya Kalnina and her handsome son Tikhon (Andris Bulis). A radiant mannequin, frivolous and goofy, in general, happy with life. He just goes with the flow, obeying his smart, loving mother, who decides everything for him. An affectionate calf, he could easily cajole his mother when she was angry or forbade something, and she, despite her iron grip, could not resist her son’s charm. A couple of actors gave the performance, which was generally a lot of confusion, additional human depth.

Now the performance on the podium was done in Moscow, at the Pushkin Theater. Here they staged Molière’s “Funny Primroses”, changing the title to “Funny ZheMe” (don’t ask what this means; we’ll assume that we are talking about the sexes - F and M). Director Elena Novikova did not set any special goals for herself, but decided, as written in the program, to simply make a “youth comedy,” which is a euphemism for “funny rubbish.” No sooner said than done. Provincial cousins ​​Madelon and Kato, who had read novels and dreamed of social life and love affairs, turned into provincial fashion models who came to the capital for fame. Young charming actresses, blonde Anna Begunova and brunette Alexandra Ursulyak, sweetly portray the girls’ clumsiness, fear and admiration in front of the cameras. And they cleverly parody the vowel-swallowing provincial dialect, which is especially funny when you try to express yourself flowerily. The dad (Konstantin Pokhmelov), who demands that the beauties do not swear, but immediately marry wealthy suitors, in contrast to his views on life, looks like an old long-haired rocker, like Iggy Pop. A pair of suitors (Alexander Anisimov and Alexey Voropanov) look like identical twins in identical suits and Beatle wigs. Alexander Matrosov funny plays Mascarille, portraying the marquis in high heels and platforms. The director's idea to transform the false marquis from a servant, whose coquetry is humiliating for girls, into a metropolitan artist, whose acquaintance should be flattering for them, looks strange, but it is better not to ask questions and not look for logic in this performance. But the girls with Mascarille funny sing the song of the group “City 312”: “I will remain ashes on my lips.” There is probably nothing more to say about this performance. Oh yes, everyone’s outfits were designed by fashion designers Chistova and Endourova. So it’s time to show “ZheMe” at the next Russian Fashion Week.

Dina GODER