The newest offering from the Vakhtangov Theater is called "The Beggar's Opera," although it is not John Gay's famous 18th-century ballad opera. It is actually "The Threepenny Opera." But, wait a minute. The production is not really Kurt Weill's and Bertolt Brecht's popular political musical, either.
Sure, the composer's and playwright's names are on the program. And, in a faint echo of Brecht's trademark use of political placards on stage, they even hang above the stage amidst a sea of London street signs.
But one would be hard-pressed to find more than a few shreds of Brecht's biting social commentary buried in this decidedly unengaging performance. And one wonders: How did the cast and production company manage to make Weill's spectacular, jazzy score so flaccid and tuneless? Imagine hearing the great "Mack the Knife" reduced to the level of an anemic pop song.
Director Gary Chernyakhovsky probably tried too hard to please his audience. Maybe he thought that since Russian life is so politicized these days, a socially oriented work would do the trick. But, with everyone so tired of politics, he proceeded to strip away all but the "human interest" angle.
Man does not live by bread alone, after all, as the shyster, Mr. Peachum, sings; there's also selfishness, spite, fear and slander.
What's left are the broadly-sketched trials and tribulations of the thief, Mack the Knife (Igor Lagutin). He marries Polly (Natalya Moleva), a shyster's daughter, and fakes marriage to Lucy (Vera Novikova), the constable's daughter, but he is actually in love with Jenny (Yulia Rutberg), a perky prostitute. When Polly's mom (Maria Aronova) enlists Jenny to get Mack arrested and hanged, the only person who can save him is the newly-crowned Queen. And she does.
It's worth mentioning now: The premi?re came just days after Moscow's October rebels were pardoned and released from Lefortovo prison. Were the production truly Brechtian, this coincidence of theater and life couldn't have missed getting a rise from the spectators. Instead, the diehards who still remained when the finale rolled around were as impassive as they had been all evening.
Even when Constable Brown (Viktor Zozulin) muttered that he fought in Azerbaijan side-by-side with Polly's father (Vladimir Simonov), it barely produced a ripple in the audience.
Okay, so it's Brecht without politics. That's possible, too. At least there's the great music and endless opportunities for cabaret-style dance to liven things up.
Think again. For all the singing (supervised by Tatyana Agayeva), there is precious little music. While managing to effectively strike pretty-boy poses, Lagutin sings in a voice that wavers between the expressionless and the flat. Simonov occasionally shows energy, but not much musicality. Moleva and Novikova can be downright screechy.
Chernyakhovsky deserves praise for avoiding the horrid practice of lipsynching. But next time, he ought to choose a cast that can sing. Yulia Rutberg is the only one of the lot to display at least some musical instinct and talent.
The clich?-ridden dance numbers, staged by Larisa Chumachenko, fare no better. Lacking in rhythm, discipline and snap, they mostly resemble chaotic, random movement. Only Rutberg and the sprightly Grigory Siyatvinda, as one of Mack's cohorts, do more than literally go through the motions.
The cramped action is confined to a red, hand-pulled double-decker bus that serves alternately as Peachum's shady establishment, Mack's abode in the stables or the constable's prison. (The program lists no designer.) While the actors struggle to conquer the bus's moving parts, the inviting expanses of the Vakhtangov's stage go to waste.
Call this production what you will, it still comes out a two-bit operetta.
"The Beggar's Opera" (Opera Nishchikh) plays March 31 at 7 P.M. at the Vakhtangov Theater, 26 Arbat. Tel. 241-0728. Running time: 3 hours, 5 minutes.
Sure, the composer's and playwright's names are on the program. And, in a faint echo of Brecht's trademark use of political placards on stage, they even hang above the stage amidst a sea of London street signs.
But one would be hard-pressed to find more than a few shreds of Brecht's biting social commentary buried in this decidedly unengaging performance. And one wonders: How did the cast and production company manage to make Weill's spectacular, jazzy score so flaccid and tuneless? Imagine hearing the great "Mack the Knife" reduced to the level of an anemic pop song.
Director Gary Chernyakhovsky probably tried too hard to please his audience. Maybe he thought that since Russian life is so politicized these days, a socially oriented work would do the trick. But, with everyone so tired of politics, he proceeded to strip away all but the "human interest" angle.
Man does not live by bread alone, after all, as the shyster, Mr. Peachum, sings; there's also selfishness, spite, fear and slander.
What's left are the broadly-sketched trials and tribulations of the thief, Mack the Knife (Igor Lagutin). He marries Polly (Natalya Moleva), a shyster's daughter, and fakes marriage to Lucy (Vera Novikova), the constable's daughter, but he is actually in love with Jenny (Yulia Rutberg), a perky prostitute. When Polly's mom (Maria Aronova) enlists Jenny to get Mack arrested and hanged, the only person who can save him is the newly-crowned Queen. And she does.
It's worth mentioning now: The premi?re came just days after Moscow's October rebels were pardoned and released from Lefortovo prison. Were the production truly Brechtian, this coincidence of theater and life couldn't have missed getting a rise from the spectators. Instead, the diehards who still remained when the finale rolled around were as impassive as they had been all evening.
Even when Constable Brown (Viktor Zozulin) muttered that he fought in Azerbaijan side-by-side with Polly's father (Vladimir Simonov), it barely produced a ripple in the audience.
Okay, so it's Brecht without politics. That's possible, too. At least there's the great music and endless opportunities for cabaret-style dance to liven things up.
Think again. For all the singing (supervised by Tatyana Agayeva), there is precious little music. While managing to effectively strike pretty-boy poses, Lagutin sings in a voice that wavers between the expressionless and the flat. Simonov occasionally shows energy, but not much musicality. Moleva and Novikova can be downright screechy.
Chernyakhovsky deserves praise for avoiding the horrid practice of lipsynching. But next time, he ought to choose a cast that can sing. Yulia Rutberg is the only one of the lot to display at least some musical instinct and talent.
The clich?-ridden dance numbers, staged by Larisa Chumachenko, fare no better. Lacking in rhythm, discipline and snap, they mostly resemble chaotic, random movement. Only Rutberg and the sprightly Grigory Siyatvinda, as one of Mack's cohorts, do more than literally go through the motions.
The cramped action is confined to a red, hand-pulled double-decker bus that serves alternately as Peachum's shady establishment, Mack's abode in the stables or the constable's prison. (The program lists no designer.) While the actors struggle to conquer the bus's moving parts, the inviting expanses of the Vakhtangov's stage go to waste.
Call this production what you will, it still comes out a two-bit operetta.
"The Beggar's Opera" (Opera Nishchikh) plays March 31 at 7 P.M. at the Vakhtangov Theater, 26 Arbat. Tel. 241-0728. Running time: 3 hours, 5 minutes.
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