In Russia, however, Sebastian remains most famous for one of his half-dozen plays — “The Star Without a Name.” This melodrama, written in 1944, had major success on Russian stages in the 1950s and 1960s, and it was made into a popular movie by Mikhail Kozakov in 1978. Under the direction of Yevgeny Ginzburg and under the title of “Mona,” the play now has been revived at the Dzhigarkhanyan Theater.
Ginzburg, who has toiled with success in television and cinema since the 1970s, brought a film director’s efficiency to the play. He coaxed precise, if sometimes rigid, performances from his cast, and through his use of music, incidental sounds and lighting, he always keeps things moving, even during long pauses. At times, especially in the music composed by Georgy Garanyan, his production is prone to sentimental overkill. And his use of the frequent loud crashing and clanking of trains in a station — for that is where the play’s first act transpires — can be monotonous.
“Mona” is a tale of the heart, however, and Ginzburg told that story ably.
This is the chronicle of a 12-hour love affair, and of those who were there to witness it. These are the station master in a sleepy country town, a trio of school teachers, a student and others. Their life of routine, repression and occasional feeble rebellion is shaken one night when an express train makes an unexpected stop to unload a mysterious passenger — a glamorous woman who has no money and refuses to say who she is.
The two acts of “Mona” are largely different plays — one about the eccentric characters inhabiting the faceless town, the other about love coming and going in a flash. Pyotr Prorokov’s set easily transforms a realistic office at a train station into the interior of a humble home.
Part one is carried almost entirely by Alexei Annenkov, the irritable but colorful stationmaster. This big man in a small job is the typical bureaucrat, a stickler for pointless regulations, and the source of the town’s juiciest gossip. Annenkov is suitably blustery when his character is pushing around his weight, and every bit as meek when he finds himself out of his league.
Mona, as played by Yelena Ksenofontova, is definitely out of the stationmaster’s league. In fact, dressed in a sheer, flowing gown of white, and glowering from behind fiery eyes, she might pass as having come from another planet. She is curt in her speech, unpredictable in her behavior, and endlessly intriguing. All she has to her name, aside from her beauty and attitude, is some lipstick in her purse and a few stray gambling chips.
This all proves to be emotionally fatal for the local high school’s soft-spoken astronomy teacher (Sergei Vinogradov). Because Mona has nowhere else to go, he invites her to spend the night at his place, where she is horrified by the mice, mystified by the fact that anyone should own so many books, and, finally, astonished to learn that he has discovered a new star that he has yet to name.
Sebastian’s play is chopped into small, almost discrete, episodes, especially after Mona slips into the astronomy teacher’s orbit. Like the teacher, we don’t really see love coming — it’s just there already when it happens. And we barely have time to see it go — we just know it is no longer possible.
The end of the astronomer’s romantic dream comes abruptly when Mona’s gambler boyfriend discovers her whereabouts and reminds her of the glitz and perks of high society that she will never be able to live without. Yury Anilogov is imposing as this rude, narcissistic, cynical fop who somehow is capable of maintaining his charm.
The characters in “Mona” often represent caricatures rather than real, complex individuals. As a result, the performance sometimes seems smaller than it might have been. But the undeniable gist of the story remains: Love can rip people out of the world they inhabit and throw their lives into chaos, even as it gives their lives meaning. And, this play suggests, that meaning remains even after love is consumed by the chaos it created. “Mona” plays Oct. 10, 18 and 24 at 7 p.m. at the Dzhigarkhanyan Theater, located at 17 Lomonosovsky Prospekt. Metro Universitet. Tel. 930-7049. www.dzigartheater.ru. Running time: 2 hours, 50 minutes.