Actress in the window

COLTA.RU represents the prime minister of the column of the chief dramaturus of the Meyerhold Center, the Laureate of the Golden Mask and the ex-callist of the Russian Reporter Sasha Denisova about the morphology of the theater.

The rain washed Moscow at the end of February.

“Washed”, however, the verb is inaccurate: strictly speaking, he finally stained Moscow. The snow still lay with bald patches on lawns, in the middle of dirty snowdrifts and naked branches, like Brueghel’s characters, citizens, urgent affairs attracted them to the third transport ring, cars slowly floated in the puddles of cocoa, this endless Moscow time of the year, called the “theater season”. This time is hopeless, bloodless, endlessly, inhumanly, gray, impatiently, it begins in September and ends in May, it is perfectly alone - the theater. In one of these temples of art, and strictly speaking, GBUKOV, that is, state budgetary cultural institutions, I spend life. The theatrical novel has no time to write everything - let it be at least a theatrical story.

“My life consists of rehearsals and preparation for them,” director H. said bitterness of self -denial and how he was right! True, in his case, it never reached the premiere.

I went to the first rehearsal with decoration. This is always an exciting moment. How is she, decoration? Is everything so? The decoration was established solemnly as a New Year tree of regional scale. It was so! In each corner of the scene, material work was going on - and, unlike some rehearsals, absolutely creative. My soul sang from this creation. Suddenly, the eye closed with enthusiasm, the window fixed the window. There was something wrong with the window. In this window, actress X was to dance to Giselle ... The dance of Giselle was rehearsed: the weeks of life left for him.

And now the window brought us under the monastery. It was designed so that it could not dance Giselle in it. I remembered the lines of the poet: “The light was lit. A shadow flickered in the window ”... So: in our window it was impossible to even flash.

-Come on, flicker! - I ordered actor L.

The window was such a depth that with all the desperate attempts to flash actor L. was not visible in any perspective.

But actress H. was already traveling to the rehearsal and it was clear - the state acceptance window would not pass. After conferring with the artist, I commanded:

- saw another window!

The windows should have left for some time. And then actress H. called

“I’m here ... late,” she said. - I can't find the keys to the car.

- And you do not rush! I said suddenly affectionately. - Look for them well, why do we need our nerves before the premiere!

The freshly sawed window stood in the scenery by the arrival of the actress.

Actress H. entered the stage carefully, like a cop when capturing an important criminal. For decency, she glanced through the whole decoration, but remained indifferent to her. She was worried about one thing. Throwing predatoryly to the window and while declining in it, the actress found a defect.

- Let me! Why is the wall so narrow? I'm hiding here! I have the whole scene on this built! On the fact that I am hiding behind the wall, and now I can see me! - the actress heated, examining the side element of the window.

"Would you see, Golub Soul, what was here an hour ago!" - I thought cheerfully and took up the other, leaving the artist to get out of this dialogue. Sometimes it came from their corner:

- I've been on stage for twenty years! This is a disgrace! I can see me! The wall is narrow on the left! And I say, narrow! I refuse to rehearse dance of Giselle! Take it off! And I say, take off.

The window was completed-they pulled something, fitted, subsided.

“I don’t understand how to make a decoration without consulting an actress ...” the actress summed up insultedly.

Actresses ... Actresses are a combat avant -garde of the theater, a fifth -generation destroyers squadron, ephemeral flowers capable of poisoning, eating, strangling, but also tie or break. Actresses are subtly, but a tightly organized appearance of mankind. If you have not consulted with the actress - about the scenery, about her role, and all the roles in the play, the play, the solution of the whole play and each role in particular, as well as the universe as a whole - the matter is bad. They did not find a common language, did not tame, did not tame, did not fall in love ... Because if you love the actress - and she, she will also fall in love with. Of course, it will not cease to grumble.

Here is like a little prince and a rose. Water and prick.

Actresses are a subject of study, that's where the passion is, where is the flight, where there is tenderness, where is hatred, where are tears, where are thorns and petals! This is femininity - multiplied, accelerated, concentrated and - scattering. You think it was, it was! Everyone saw, all witnesses! Bubble, burned, lived, beat, shimmered! And everything, at the moment, went out - the performance ended, the fans resolved, the festive sausage was eaten, the make -up was erased, the tulips stuffed the tulips, put it on a coat, hunched her back, scratched her home. Where are the studs, where are the waders, where is the porcelain of the cheeks? Everything, until the next time - hello.

Actresses! Shine and tinsel, fire and dagger, greatness and scoliosis, greed and generosity, grumbling and radiance, insidiousness and defenselessness. My two actresses, going to my performance with two other actresses, unanimously said: it was I had to play it! This is my character!

- Which one? - I was amazed.

One character was 50 years old, and the second is 25. My two actresses were clearly in the middle age. But this did not bother them. They wanted to play.

Actresses want to play. Flicker in the window. This passion drives them - and now they envelop the directors and burn rivals with the red -hot iron.

- What other compositions? I said so to the director - either I or her. I don't like how she plays my role! And sits still watching how I play!

Mentally I say that the role was, strictly speaking, not only “mine” ...

- Of course, she has the main role, but I have it. Not a role, but a stub. The role of blinded from what was. Although there was nothing. I don't understand your hobby for youth. Is youth good for the actress? Take at least Maryl Streep ...

Mentally I say that in my youth, Maryl Streep was also ...

- What can a young actress know? Nothing! The charm of youth? A blush on the cheeks? No soul, no internal content. I would play this role much better - despite the fact that I am not twenty! And I look just about twenty!

Mentally I say that this performance is about the generation of twenty -year -olds, and not about those who look twenty!

The main thing is to be silent. And on the other hand, who, who else is able to seduce so delightfully?

When strangers, extraneous actresses somewhere on tour-in the Berlin Bar or the Ural Airport-suddenly recognized me as a theater figure, I felt like an idle billionaire. Oh, this smile, a bell of voice, politeness, troubles! But they have not yet presented it - I sat like a bag of potatoes.

Play. Flicker in the window. Like a ghostly fairy, like sylph.

Once, at the twilight of the Moscow court, the artist’s workshop, one actress so expressively told me “Hello, Sasha!”, That I even stopped drinking wine. I began to bother me who this twilight fairy. I asked - and a year later I made a performance with her. Actresses, Fairies, Sylphides! And why blame? Yes, expressive. And all the terrible dependence of their profession is to be in sight, a look, ready! Like, wink, expressively express readiness. Then you go to yourself with a gloomy face - and it owes nothing to anyone.

But they are waiting for roles. They want to play. Flicker in the window.

But who else has as much dignity, if not actresses? What biological appearance? Lviv, antelopes, horned deer?

Having discovered a broken bottle of poison, the actress burst into tears. Flafainsky bottle, props, God forgive! Buy! In the darkness of the scene, she mourned the bottle like life. Who else is capable of such feelings?

- How can I go on stage and play that my son died when the toilet is not washing behind the stage! - after a while she rumbled. - Let me! Why aren't they washing the toilet!

And really - how? After all, they come out and play - sparkles and tinsel, radiance and flutter ...

If I were a man, then all the condition - if I had it too, I would have erased the actress. But I only make my time and nerves on them. And it’s not sorry, it’s not a pity, imagine! When you look at the stage, you think: how could I want to beat it with a slipper yesterday - this moth, this sylph?

- You carefully swear allegiance! - I advise you to a young actress who, like a Senbernar, expresses her readiness to play in any circumstances.

“But they will poison,” I think. - Drink crushed glass and do not flinch. And not drogmsh, they will go to dance to “House 12”. Watching! Sylphides, harpies! "

- In this dress I have a stomach! - says actress H. - And the hands are complete!

“The dress should help play,” actress N refuses to play in an appointed dress. -And if it does not help, but just important to the costume artist some kind of paint there ...

Why are they struggling like that - for a replica, window, suit?

People's Artist A. celebrated the 60th anniversary of work in the theater. She was worried about a drawn dress in the lobby.

-No, well, you know, they painted me with some collar, I never wore this! I demand that they draw with a small one! Tre-bo! - The actress expressively knocked on the scene with a stick.

“It's very beautiful, Galina Alexandrovna,” I said peacefully. - This collar is very refreshing.

- Do you think? - thought the actress. - Well, go look again, then you will say.

- No, have you seen? - Another time she was worried about the photo portrait. - Hanged my photo, here is so huge! I demand that he be removed immediately! Tre-bo! No, well, do you understand? And why is the scene dirty, all in the ground?

- This is the director K. with the Earth.

- So, God with her, with the earth! Although they also took fashion. Where is it visible for the scene to be dirty? Well, have you seen a portrait?

- This is a very beautiful portrait, Galina Alexandrovna!

- Do you think? No, I personally like him, you understand, but why so huge! Go look again! And then you will tell me!

Sometimes she called.

“So, I know that you are writing folios, but I'm for a moment.” I want to ask a woman a woman - what will I be at a banquet?

- Galina Alexandrovna, in an evening dress, of course.

- Well, well, but tell everyone that everyone is in dresses, otherwise I will be like a crow. I have to run to Bakhrushinsky to speak, but fell - I did not notice the log at the entrance. I have to go to the emergency room, and I will go to speak. Here is life!

I was lucky to speak with the legend of Mayakovka, People's Artist Tatyana Karpova , who recently turned one hundred years old. Then I understood something about actresses. Why are they like that? Why grumble? Why are they demanding? Why are they crying?

“She's in a stroller,” warned Zatruppa. - I broke my leg, I wanted to play, I thought, after the operation it would be like a new one, - and that’s all, a wheelchair.

Karpova lives in a departmental house; Ancient furniture made of rosyandra, figurines, a round table, a green lamp, tea from servicing cups.

Tatyana Mikhailovna looks great - black jumper, pearls. Since 1916, the year of her birth, a century has passed.

- We are Kharkov. With my friend Zina, they waved to Moscow. Where did we come? Of course, mainly to the Moscow Art Theater. We are sitting, it means, at the Moscow Art Theater in the passage. Orls, the People's Artist comes out, and says: "Girls, what are you sitting here?" We say: "Yes, we are waiting for Stanislavsky." And he says: “Stanislavsky? But there is no Stanislavsky. ” Then we thought-yes Khai will be Nemirovich-Danchenko. And he says: "No, you go to the second Moscow Art Theater, there is Bersenev, a very good director." All, and we leaned with her. But the beginning of classes was already, and he said: “I will take you. But only I have no place. You will go to the Ministry of Culture, let them allow us two more places. ” And we flooded, of course, to whom? To the minister. He said: "I can't do anything for you." We say: “So you are killing talents! I want to play! "

This is an indestructible desire to play - the leitmotif of life.

- We played the performance "Spring in Moscow." And they announced the alarm. Bombed, and we play.

Okhlopkov put the “Young Guard” with Prima of the theater, Maria Babanova, in the role of Lyubka Shevtsova, but Babanova lost her voice before the premiere, and the young Karpova had to replace her teacher. When the performance was nominated for the Stalin Prize, the prize was given to Karpova.

Babanova did not forgive her student: she did not talk for many years. And what else she could combine - only deprive herself. Poor prickly defenseless roses! Karpova came to her only for the funeral.

It would seem, well, what is there, Lord, a role! But no: the role. Costume. Window. Life.

- Recently, I, therefore, came to the theater in a stroller, went on stage on the walkers - the scene is empty, no one in the auditorium. And I held out my hands, as if there are spectators - as I love you, I will still be with you. In general, I felt so good. It is impossible to live without a theater - I still want to play!

Play. Flicker in the window. Like a ghostly fairy, like sylph.