Year of the Family

Premiere at the Oleg Tabakov Theater Studio - “Fathers and Sons”

The radio beeps: “Moscow time is six o’clock,” a small pause flashes, which always happens between the announcer’s text and the anthem, and the anthem is played, only not the current one, but “God Save the Tsar.” It doesn’t matter what kind of system the country has; the age is also unimportant; Russian people don't change. The performance by Konstantin Bogomolov, staged in the “Snuffbox” based on the textbook novel by Ivan Turgenev, was made not only by a nihilist, but by a person who understands Bazarov perfectly. This performance is a list of claims to one’s native country; these claims are stated clearly, mockingly and in a brightly theatrical manner. No hysterics, no tears. The diagnosis was made with the care of the doctor; diagnosis "Russia"; and there is no cure. All that remains is to describe the symptoms and joke - and the performance turns out to be both physiological and absurdist, like medical humor.

Mutual misunderstanding between the intelligentsia and the people? Well, of course. That the reverent gentleman Nikolai Petrovich Kirsanov (outwardly Vitaly Egorov, who is not at all suitable to be the father of the twenty-year-old hero, amazingly plays fatherly care, these small touches to his son after a long separation, this effort not to bother himself, not to interfere, and secret tender glances), that “buttoned up "all the buttons" his brother Pavel Petrovich (Andrei Smolyakov sometimes overextends his characterization a little, as if fearing that the viewer will sympathize with his hero too much) - they don’t understand a thing about men. The only representative of these men (Dmitry Maksimychev), always drunk to the point of self-oblivion, in an absurd cape and a wild fur coat, makes a slurred speech about bars and peasants, immediately begins to scream “oh, apple” - and the very sight of him makes the “aristocrats” sick who consider themselves truly Russian. But Bogomolov speaks even more harshly about “the people”, inventing his own Fenechka (the role went to Yana Sexta). In the book she is the embodiment of silence, modest femininity; in the play she became what she must have been in reality - outside the amorous gaze of aging landowners. A stupid peasant woman who has enough cunning to mutter words about eternal gratitude and eternal love for her benefactor; Meanwhile, she does not understand this benefactor at all, and the easily explained Bazarov is much closer to her. She instantly begins to make out with him, not out of any depravity, but simply out of relief - well, finally, she can make love with someone without high-minded reasoning and listening to exercises on musical instruments.

Cultural figures with their pathetic conversations and lordly habits? But what? The landowner Odintsova (Elvira Danilina), with whom Bazarov was in love, turned in the play into an opera diva a la Anna Netrebko - not just a beauty, but a sex symbol. She performs in the theater (the actress opens her mouth to the soundtrack), autographs records (and gives one to Bazarov as a souvenir). And (an excellent scene) the lady says the texts about how she is unhappy and doesn’t want to live, while lying imposingly on the pillows, while the Arab servant at that moment thoughtfully massages her calves. This combination of the services of a personal massage therapist and arguments that life is sad and meaningless instantly causes laughter in the audience - which is what it is designed for.

Angrily and cheerfully, Bogomolov slaps the “sacred myths” of domestic intellectuals - Pavel Petrovich Kirsanov, who advocates for the “old culture,” watches in the cinema not just anything, but “Death in Venice,” and the Mahlerian motif becomes the annoying motif of the performance. High music and great cinema have become common symbols of participation in “culture,” but the film ends before our eyes, the credits roll, the era of these symbols has already become decrepit.

But Russia is not only drunken peasants, pretentious divas and “guardians” frozen in their chairs with hemorrhoids. Russia is also parents, family; the family, which Bazarov is so embarrassed about, grimaces so much when listening to the rattling of his old father (Alexander Vorobyov). Evgeny Miller, who is given the main role in the play, wonderfully plays all the shades: how he abuses Bazarov in his father’s house, and how he imperceptibly leans against his native wall, how he commands his parents, and how gentle he is with them. In general, the actor portrays the nihilist clearly and subtly: in the scene when the hero opens his arms with Fenechka, lust flashes across his face, normal male hunger, and self-loathing, and a flashing rude decision - but why be shy. Miller’s Bazarov is not a school “portrait of a nihilist,” but a living person. Great job.

The work of Andrei Fomin is no worse - he got Arkady Kirsanov. And this youthful enthusiasm for his older comrade, and the recitation of beautiful things, and kindness (manifested in dialogues with the older Bazarov) - everything was played by the actor, everything was thought out. And his natural return to the camp of the “fathers” is indicated without tension, naturally and easily. In the final scene, forgetting about Bazarov, as if it never happened, two happy couples - the younger Kirsanov with his bride and Nikolai Petrovich with Fenechka - skate under the falling snow and raise New Year's glasses to Russia. Here they are, Russia. Those who think differently are not taken into account.

Anna GORDEEVA