Translated material
On the swing
“Uncle Vanya” by Rimas Tuminas at the Vakhtangov Theater
I don't want to argue with anyone. Not with those who believe that the best performance of Rimas Tuminas was the old Vilnius “The Cherry Orchard”, where an old house literally collapsed on the heads of the characters. Not with those who also loved the winter “Masquerade” made in his hometown, where the deceased Nina turned into a grave monument covered with snow, or the paradoxical “Madagascar”, which ironically interprets the origins of Lithuania. Not with the lovers of the mocking “Playing Schiller” in Sovremennik, where the secret note was hidden... I won’t say where, well, in a very intimate place. And I won’t even argue with those who see originality in the latest noisy productions of the Lithuanian director in Moscow: in the nervous and ragged contemporary “Woe from Wit”, fatherly scolded by Putin, or in last year’s Vakhtangov premiere of “Troilus and Cressida”, where the culprit Trojan troubles Beautiful Helen turned out to be a mountain of naked, shapeless meat with a hoarse voice. Now I don’t even want to discuss all this, since Rimas Tuminas at the Vakhtangov Theater, which he has been directing for the third season, has released a play that cancels previous disputes about this director. Chekhov's "Uncle Vanya", which looks excitedly, so that it almost doesn’t occur to you to ask questions that were not left in the previous whimsical and foggy productions of Tuminas. Why does the hero do this? what is this for? what does this mean?Preserving his ironic intonation, Tuminas staged a sad and bitter performance, not about some fussy puppets whose reasons cannot be understood, but about living people. And it became clear that the troupe of the Vakhtangov Theater, which had long had a joyless appearance, was in excellent shape, and Tuminas knew when to stop fooling around and not overwhelm the artist with the garbage of the director’s tricks. This is where the viewer will open his mouth.
What I mean is that, in my opinion, “Uncle Vanya” is the best performance by Tuminas, the most clear and human and at the same time the most original and personal. Moreover, judging by the reviews, the performance is growing and gaining strength from showing to showing. Now it is clear that the last season, when there was an ugly fuss around the director and there was talk about whether a stranger should be left in the position of head of a large Moscow theater, Tuminas did not fuss, but calmly prepared for his main premiere. And this whole story, which fortunately ended happily, will not even be worthy of a line in the anthology, which will include Tuminasov’s performance. And thank God.
Tuminas, just like Nyakrosius, who constantly works with the wonderful Lithuanian composer Faustas Latenas, this time filled the production with music so that it ceases to carry only the “applied” function of intonation background and accents, becoming as essential a part of the performance as in ballet, where all action is determined and given by it. Moreover, Latenas builds the musical fabric on very popular motifs - songs, dances, some vulgar waltzes, etc., but all this adds up to a tense, disturbing, soul-tugging sound environment. It seems that the influence of this music is even excessive - Tuminas is unable to escape any of the accents that it gives, which is why the action turns into a series of exhausting emotional peaks, the viewer is thrown as if on a swing, each subsequent takeoff seems like a shock finale, but there are already such finales the first act is ten. And I want to frame each one, remember it and then show it separately. Like, for example, the scene where Uncle Vanya (Sergei Makovetsky) shoots Serebryakov (Vladimir Simonov). The first time we hear a shot behind the stage, the second - everything is already happening for show, on the proscenium. Elena Andreevna (Anna Dubrovskaya) and old mother Voinitskaya (Lyudmila Maksakova) dramatically rush to shield the professor with their bodies, and he, having effectively pushed the women aside, comes out and stands, proudly sticking out his chest, right under the gun. But even at point-blank range, poor, ridiculous Vanya cannot even touch the enemy. And when Uncle Vanya wants to shoot a third time, Serebryakov turns around and very slowly, to the music, accompanied by all the household members, goes into the depths of the stage. Vanya is fussing, aiming at the back, as if he were being shot, but, having reached the backdrop, the entire line turns around and threateningly walks straight towards him, as if on a podium, coming close, he leaves again, and Vanya still runs around in panic and confusedly with his pistol.
All the actors play in a sharp, almost grotesque drawing, but for some reason this does not turn “Uncle Vanya” into a caricature; on the contrary, it emphasizes the nuances and unexpected turns of Chekhov's story, a new look at it. Here is the nanny (Galina Konovalova) - a kind of old lady in powder, with painted lips and a flower in her hair, flirtatious and obviously drinking. In the Voinitsky house she “works as a manipulator” and literally ties the sick Serebryakov into a knot. Lyudmila Maksakova in the role of Mother Voinitskaya is impossible to recognize: in a dark bob wig, dark glasses and a long pencil skirt, she seems downright a suffragette, while dashingly lifting her skirt and falling into unstoppable hysterical laughter with delight in front of Serebryakov.
The amazing Serebryakov couple - Vladimir Simonov and Anna Dubrovskaya play a harmonious pair of spouses who are very suitable for each other. Both are picturesque, arrogant, slow-motion. A nightly family scene with a capricious old professor tormenting his young wife turns into a theater for each other, full of sexual tension and mutual hysterical delight. They are similar even in small things, for example, in their aversion to someone else's touch. Here is a majestic, pretentious professor listening to Uncle Vanya’s accusations at a family council. He fusses again, blaming his son-in-law for his lost life, grabs his sleeve, falls to his shoulder, and the professor moves away with disgust. But the beautiful Elena, arrogantly putting up with Sonya, coldly touches her cheek, and when she stretches out her lips for a kiss, she moves her away in fear and disgust. Sonya is played by young Maria Berdinskikh - she plays almost like a child, an earnest little thing in boring teenage dresses and heavy boots, an ugly gray mouse, sincere, touching and ringing.
Except that Astrov (Vladimir Vdovichenkov), a brutal but not very meaningful cowboy in a hat and leather vest, and Telegin (Yuri Kraskov), who has turned into a loud and unfunny clown in a Chaplin bowler hat, do not yet reach the level of the other characters. Perhaps that is why, in order to cover for the actors, Tuminas gave all his “stuff”, which he almost abandoned in “Uncle Vanya,” to these two characters.
But no matter how good or not all the other actors are, it’s all about Uncle Vanya, Sergei Makovetsky, who hasn’t played roles of this class at the Vakhtangov Theater for a long time - this schizoid smart guy with some kind of stupid, crooked, with a jerking gait, in a fifty-year-old man, fussy and awkward, defenseless and unadapted to life, like a child. Anyone who has seen the posters posted in the subway remembers his strange face, where someone opens his eyes. This is from the last minutes of the performance. When everyone has left and little Sonya is trying to shake the completely unconscious Uncle Vanya, whom Astrov has just injected with morphine to calm down, she drags him out to dance. Sonya drags and spins her large limp body around the stage, and then, in despair, she stretches out her hands to open her eyes and spreads a smile with her fingers. With this clown face - bulging eyes and an idiotic smile pasted on - Vanya, like a clown, backs away into the depths of the stage for a long, long time until he disappears into the darkness. It's hard to forget.