PREMIERE TOWARDS THE END

I do not want to cry out after a classic: "Do you love theatre? Do you love it as much as I do: with all the fervour and passion of the soul?" And especially, I do not want to cry out invitingly: "So, go and die in it!" The 19th and 21st centuries have different assessment criteria. The theatre of romantic ideas and realistic positions has long seemed a "legend of deep antiquity" to many. And more and more often, we have to see on the stages of our theatres incomprehensible pieces, which consist at best of expressive images that are not linked by any thoughtful staging or at worst of total pretensions to modernity. However, one essential thing is missing behind this claim: the directors' understanding of who the audience is. It is normally assumed that all these "feats" are carried out in the name of the audience. But this is the case if the director recognizes the need for a dialogue with them. Unfortunately, most often directors fail to recognize it. Why? This is quite a different subject of discussion. But on the example of the premiere of "Wolves and Sheep", which was held towards the end of the anniversary season at the Samad Vurgun Russian Drama Theatre, we can conclude that the modernity of a performance and the intelligibility of the director's professional language are not limited to the time when the play was written.

As you know, Ostrovskiy created the story about wolves and sheep in the second half of the 19th century. It was the time of a new generation and the flourishing of capital linked to their activity: they sensed the structure of the age very well, were educated, smart, not affected by reflection, knew very well what to stake on in their business games, and multiplied their fortune through the slogan "nothing personal, only business". The playwright called such clever, pragmatic and not very conscientious people wolves. Now these business bigwigs are referred to as sharks. But what has changed over the century and a half? Accountants' abacuses have been replaced by calculators, and Stock Exchange News (one of the largest media in the late 19th - early 20th century) by the Internet. Everything else remains as it was: major businesses eat small ones. And business bigwigs' temptation to reach the dizzy heights of power is often fraught with crime. In the performance of Timur Nasirov, who was invited to the show as part of the project of the Ministry of Culture and Tourism, the topic of big business, focused on highly questionable "good deeds", is clear and comprehensible. Ostrovskiy's text acquires a totally contemporary feel, because it reflects what is happening in our lives today. Here is Murzavetskaya, an elderly county lady who tries to get rid of her ne'er-do-well nephew Apollo (Yuriy Omelchenko) by marrying him to the young widow Kupavina and getting her hands on her fortune. Aleksandra Nikushina plays her with gusto and even passion. Her Meropa lacks any restraint. She stops at nothing in order to snatch at least something for her own gain. Hypocrisy and sanctimony are in no way concealed. Even fake documents, for which she might end up in Siberia, do not scare her. She knows that here in the county, she is allowed to do anything. There are connections, there is authority and there is a formidable reputation of strength. And most importantly, there is an absolute immunity to remorse: moral crime and law-breaking are committed easily, with a chuckle and even flirt, followed by significant looks at Chugunov not because of women's interest in his person, but because criminal conspiracies are committed like this, almost intimately. Apparently, such situations occur so many times that it is no longer necessary to discuss them in detail: half-cries, half-chuckles, half-looks, a couple of clarifying words - they have long learned to understand each other! The cynicism of both knows no boundaries. The main thing for Meropa is to observe decorum. Although, by and large, she no longer cares what people say about her. After all, no one dares to enter into conflict with her. And at some point, she believed in the power of her own impunity. And it excites and causes euphoria. So Meropa has as much fear as a Russian roulette player. Even if she felt fear before, it has long turned into courage - will she be lucky this time or not?

Nasirov does not have a hackneyed-oppressive spinster, whose memory and habits are burdened by the recently abolished serfdom (this is according to Ostrovskiy). He and the artistic director Nikita Sazonov move all the events of the story to the first two decades of the 20th century. So, what Murzavetskaya-Nikushina has is not despotism, but shameless impunity multiplied by the excitement of a Russian roulette player. But how much pleasure she takes in giving up her position of a "cool county lady" in favour of someone stronger. Berkutov! As if tired of the role of a county "boss", she had been waiting for this all her life - for someone to come and subdue her. And she obeys with joy and pleasure, offering Vasiliy Berkutov her support in elections, her connections and services only to be admitted to the circle of the select few, whom the author calls "wolves". She is ready to become a "sheep", but only in the circle of the select few. And Berkutov (Murad Yagizarov) graciously allows her to do so, cementing their unexpected alliance with a gift in the form of a little coffin where knowledge slain by society - books - rests. No-one needs them any longer here. Therefore, the books look like charred black embers. Murzavetskaya, not daring to disobey, accepts them in order to put them away somewhere far away, because they are unnecessary.

And Berkutov indulgently watches Meropa's awkward fussiness around the fearsome gift. He needs her now. But will he need her tomorrow? Question! Yagizarov's Berkutov is an impressive, slow gentleman who knows the price of his word, look and the cause he serves. And the cause requires competence, a rational approach and sober calculation in all situations. However, the man from the capital, Berkutov, is perhaps morally no better than the provincial woman Murzavetskaya. His advantage is that in all his actions, he does not go beyond the law. His whole life is subject to competent sober calculation. Business is above everything. So every day that sees a lucrative deal is not in vain. Kupavina is the same kind of deal. In order not to waste his time and energy on unnecessary sentimentality and explanations to the young widow who trembles with love, Berkutov shortens the time of courtship and places this mission on Murzavetskaya. Pretending to be a timid know-nothing, he asks her to put in a good word for him before Kupavina and to woo her for him. Why? She would be more than happy anyway if he pronounced a word about his intentions! But he needs Murzavetskaya in this case! Why? It's simple. Such "trust" is an element of a deliberate game. Let the "cool county girl" fall into the illusion that she is really powerful and really means something. Let it happen. Just in case. After all, in your retinue you need to have sheep who believe that they are wolves whose services can be used if need be.

Vukol Chugunov is the same. Yuriy Baliyev plays him as a man without conscience and honour. His Vukol Naumovich is like a tempter demon that suddenly appears out of the back of the chair, in which Murzavetskaya is sitting. He is a little man from a casket: always ready to fulfill the will of his owner. But without detriment to his own interests! And in achieving the goal, any means are good! Chugunov-Baliyev is touched by someone else's trust, which borders on stupidity for him. Therefore, devouring his victim Kupavina, he just cries with emotion, entertaining the lazily trusting widow with the tricks of a self-taught magician who finds greasy candies in the victim's ear or hair. And he sheds tears while doing this: Oh, how stupid you are, my dear! And how good it is that you are so stupid! Here is a consolation prize for you! The playwright describes this character as a crocodile that devours its prey and sheds tears. But for Baliyev and Nasirov, Chugunov is not a crocodile. He is of the same breed as those who know how to gain someone's confidence, win their favour, charm them with ostentatious benevolence, and then swallow them, touched by the unacceptable gullibility of the victim. Baliyev's Chugunov is a rascal who commits a crime with a noble face. But he, too, is a sheep in the flock of the select few, and Berkutov allows them to exist. He who is stronger - unprincipled, brutal, clever, smarter and tougher - survives today.

A striking example of this is Glafira. She is still young. But unlike Kupavina, she learned very well the lessons taught by an unscrupulous company with fake ideals: in order not to get eaten, you yourself must eat. Natavan Haciyeva's Glafira is intelligent, practical and far-sighted. She is a great psychologist, strategist and tactician. How does she take the bumpkin Lynyayev (Aleksey Saprykin), who believes that women threaten to seize his cosy bachelor's space? With intelligence and logic. Indeed, anyone would try to seduce him with her beauty, right? But this one does not. She is not so stupid to scare a victim with her predictable behaviour! After all, it is the usual behaviour of those who try to lasso someone. And Lynyayev knows this! Haciyeva's Glafira invents her own trap, which looks like a role-playing game staged by a psychologist from the side! The director and actress, step by step, immerse the object of the heroine's mercantile interest in a pool of acting bliss, which then becomes a coveted trap for Lynyayev. "Just imagine, old chap, this will be like this and this will be like that..." Glafira begins her seemingly innocent game. And Lynyayev obediently follows (mentally, of course!) all the circumstances she proposes, and she gets so much pleasure from it that it is difficult to refuse. Her well-established life starts to seem tedious and unbearable. Poor Lynyayev is theoretically ready to voluntarily put on the noose of wedlock, but Glafira has no time to wait: the coach that Murzavetskaya sent for her is already at the gate. Therefore, the young lady skilfully pushes the situation towards the desired result. The wolf in a sheep's clothing showed her fangs for the first time. Wait for more! So far, only the first target has been achieved. And now the bumpkin Lynyayev is a husband who juggles dutifully and with pleasure! But the young lady had predicted this to him in a simulation game about what would happen if I became your wife. He was mesmerized by the openness of Glafira's speeches and missed the point of danger. How did Glafira strike him? With charm of sincerity, intelligence and youth. But who knows - maybe the picnic on the beach is a harbinger of the fact that Lynyayev is the first but not the last in a series of victims selected by Glafira. Lynyayev is a victim, but we do not feel sorry for him. Saprykin plays him as if he deliberately chose such a fate. Therefore, his final sentence that people are divided into wolves and sheep sounds like a conscious but not deniable truth. As a consolation, he holds out an apple to Kupavina who was forgotten by all and abandoned on the seafront. No-one is interested in her or needs her any longer - even her own husband Berkutov.

Bella Safina's Kupavina is a smart, young widow. She dreams of love, and the romantic flair of love stories she reads stops her from experiencing life as it really is. She wants to believe that Berkutov is fascinated by her and is in love - and she believes it and wants to be liked by everybody, see adoration and worship from others and bathe in the glory of a beautiful county lady, and the rest is of little interest to her. Due to a natural indolence of mind, she cannot tell a rascal from a good man, and therefore, she does not go into the details of Chugunov's business. She does not have Glafira's grip, although she, like Glafira, is longing for a beautiful life. It is just that she cannot do anything for this. And she does not want to. She, too, is a sheep voluntarily going to the slaughterhouse. And for this reason, like Lynyayev, we do not feel sorry for her. After all, everyone is master of their own fate. And everyone is free to choose where and who they should be with: with wolves or sheep? But there are also those who still cannot join either. This is Klavdiy Goretskiy. Oleg Amirbayov plays him as an ironic and charming man who seems to be ashamed of having to "be mean". But then he candidly acknowledges that his criminal gift to forge handwriting is nothing other than a way of making money. He was spotted, kindly treated and sent to study in England by Berkutov himself. And he has a proficient eye. Talents must be developed to turn them in favour of ... what? This is another question. And it is resolved in time by the society of those who create their own ideals, destroying the ideals of their predecessors. Therefore, the director keeps the finale open. He does not make a clear emphasis on the moral level with a rating of "good" or "bad". People - good and bad - live on the stage for two and a quarter hours. But it is up to the viewer to decide and choose what is "good" and what is "bad", because it is his time - the time of destroyed ideals and cynical substitutions...