Until now, Vasily Sigarev has enjoyed good fortune as a playwright. He made his Moscow debut two seasons ago at the age of 23 with a play called "Plasticene." The hip crowd in Moscow immediately latched onto the play, and it won its author an international reputation -- the Royal Court Theater in London performed it last year with no small success.
When "Plasticene" came out at the Playwright and Director Center, where it continues today in repertory, I was guardedly impressed. The fact that Kirill Serebrennikov produced it was a key ingredient in the show's success.
As a playwright, Sigarev exhibited an admirable independence, unabashedly writing about sex, drugs and confusion in a young man's life. He did that using a relatively natural lexicon that usually allowed his characters to speak like people rather than literary characters. What hurt the play was that the origin of the pain in it occasionally resembled that of a popped pimple more than any deep-seated ailment. The lurid mix of homosexuality, violence and rebellion seemed as though it might have been culled from a list of themes that have proven popular at the box office.
But the upshot was that Sigarev clearly had something going for him. I was curious to see what he would do next.
"Black Milk," directed by Sergei Yashin at the Gogol Theater, is a play I probably would not have attributed to Sigarev were his name not printed in the program. Although it is another work about youth and morals, it has none of the loose ends, none of the paradoxes that redeemed the underlying conventionality of "Plasticene."
A young Moscow couple, Lyovchik and Melky, or Tiny, are traveling the provinces selling toasters, pretending to be giving them away for free and taking payment only for delivery. But they get stuck at an out-of-the-way train station. And when the local residents realize they've been duped, they descend upon them demanding refunds.
Matters are complicated because Tiny is pregnant. She's as tough as nails and twice as grumpy, most of the time keeping Lyovchik's hands full as he tries selling a toaster to the station ticket seller, makes fun of an old drunk, humiliates an old woman in distress and beats back a horde of unhappy customers. But during the experience of a premature birth induced by all the excitement, Tiny has a change of heart. She sees God and resolves to mend her ways. She will even give up smoking and popsicles, which seems to irritate her lover boy more than anything.
The more this play develops, the more inane it becomes. The fact that Sigarev backed off a happy ending does little to attenuate that. The characters are molten stereotypes. Aside from the hotshot couple, there is the kind drunk, the scheming ticket seller, the good and moral woman who acts as a midwife and the throng of heart-string-tugging common folk.
Yashin bought this play at face value. He serves it up as a plodding moral admonition.
The unattractive set by Yelena Kachelayeva does little to raise the show's sights. It features a twisted train track flying through the air and is flanked by the two grimy walls of the station interior.
A handful of actors distinguish themselves nicely against the odds. Ivan Shibanov scratches out a few shades of charm in the handsome, blank-headed, violence-prone Lyovchik. Anna Gulyarenko puts some genuine human sympathy into the midwife Lavreneva.
Most interesting is Alla Karavatskaya as Tiny. She holds her own against Sigarev's repetitive, slangy text while playing the smart-aleck girl who has yet to experience the mystery of giving birth. But it is in the few scenes during Tiny's short-lived "reform" period where she really shines. Even as the play bogs down in cliches, Karavatskaya finds ways to give her heroine the aura of truth.
Late last season, I saw what amounted to a dress rehearsal of another of Sigarev's plays. I won't judge the production because it has not opened yet, but the play, "Lie Detector," is a monumentally silly work about a hypnotist saving a bickering couple's marriage. It, like "Black Milk" and, to an extent, "Plasticene," is blatantly constructed on stock characters and situations. Increasingly, this seems to be what characterizes Sigarev's work.
"Black Milk" (Chyornoye Moloko) plays at 7 p.m. on Sat. and Thurs. at the Gogol Theater, located at 8A Ulitsa Kazakova. Metro Kurskaya. Tel. 262-9214.
When "Plasticene" came out at the Playwright and Director Center, where it continues today in repertory, I was guardedly impressed. The fact that Kirill Serebrennikov produced it was a key ingredient in the show's success.
As a playwright, Sigarev exhibited an admirable independence, unabashedly writing about sex, drugs and confusion in a young man's life. He did that using a relatively natural lexicon that usually allowed his characters to speak like people rather than literary characters. What hurt the play was that the origin of the pain in it occasionally resembled that of a popped pimple more than any deep-seated ailment. The lurid mix of homosexuality, violence and rebellion seemed as though it might have been culled from a list of themes that have proven popular at the box office.
But the upshot was that Sigarev clearly had something going for him. I was curious to see what he would do next.
"Black Milk," directed by Sergei Yashin at the Gogol Theater, is a play I probably would not have attributed to Sigarev were his name not printed in the program. Although it is another work about youth and morals, it has none of the loose ends, none of the paradoxes that redeemed the underlying conventionality of "Plasticene."
A young Moscow couple, Lyovchik and Melky, or Tiny, are traveling the provinces selling toasters, pretending to be giving them away for free and taking payment only for delivery. But they get stuck at an out-of-the-way train station. And when the local residents realize they've been duped, they descend upon them demanding refunds.
Matters are complicated because Tiny is pregnant. She's as tough as nails and twice as grumpy, most of the time keeping Lyovchik's hands full as he tries selling a toaster to the station ticket seller, makes fun of an old drunk, humiliates an old woman in distress and beats back a horde of unhappy customers. But during the experience of a premature birth induced by all the excitement, Tiny has a change of heart. She sees God and resolves to mend her ways. She will even give up smoking and popsicles, which seems to irritate her lover boy more than anything.
The more this play develops, the more inane it becomes. The fact that Sigarev backed off a happy ending does little to attenuate that. The characters are molten stereotypes. Aside from the hotshot couple, there is the kind drunk, the scheming ticket seller, the good and moral woman who acts as a midwife and the throng of heart-string-tugging common folk.
Yashin bought this play at face value. He serves it up as a plodding moral admonition.
The unattractive set by Yelena Kachelayeva does little to raise the show's sights. It features a twisted train track flying through the air and is flanked by the two grimy walls of the station interior.
A handful of actors distinguish themselves nicely against the odds. Ivan Shibanov scratches out a few shades of charm in the handsome, blank-headed, violence-prone Lyovchik. Anna Gulyarenko puts some genuine human sympathy into the midwife Lavreneva.
Most interesting is Alla Karavatskaya as Tiny. She holds her own against Sigarev's repetitive, slangy text while playing the smart-aleck girl who has yet to experience the mystery of giving birth. But it is in the few scenes during Tiny's short-lived "reform" period where she really shines. Even as the play bogs down in cliches, Karavatskaya finds ways to give her heroine the aura of truth.
Late last season, I saw what amounted to a dress rehearsal of another of Sigarev's plays. I won't judge the production because it has not opened yet, but the play, "Lie Detector," is a monumentally silly work about a hypnotist saving a bickering couple's marriage. It, like "Black Milk" and, to an extent, "Plasticene," is blatantly constructed on stock characters and situations. Increasingly, this seems to be what characterizes Sigarev's work.
"Black Milk" (Chyornoye Moloko) plays at 7 p.m. on Sat. and Thurs. at the Gogol Theater, located at 8A Ulitsa Kazakova. Metro Kurskaya. Tel. 262-9214.
A Message from The Moscow Times:
Dear readers,
We are facing unprecedented challenges. Russia's Prosecutor General's Office has designated The Moscow Times as an "undesirable" organization, criminalizing our work and putting our staff at risk of prosecution. This follows our earlier unjust labeling as a "foreign agent."
These actions are direct attempts to silence independent journalism in Russia. The authorities claim our work "discredits the decisions of the Russian leadership." We see things differently: we strive to provide accurate, unbiased reporting on Russia.
We, the journalists of The Moscow Times, refuse to be silenced. But to continue our work, we need your help.
Your support, no matter how small, makes a world of difference. If you can, please support us monthly starting from just $2. It's quick to set up, and every contribution makes a significant impact.
By supporting The Moscow Times, you're defending open, independent journalism in the face of repression. Thank you for standing with us.
Not ready to support today?
Remind me later.
Remind me later.
×
Remind me next month
Thank you! Your reminder is set.
We will send you one reminder email a month from now. For details on the personal data we collect and how it is used, please see our Privacy Policy.