April, 2 was played only one show - performance based on novel by Anton Chekhov "Ward № 6" in the Moscow University of Art. I played the role of Ivan Gromov.
I'll try not to go into colloquial clichés about what it was - playing that role. And that will assess those few people who saw it. I saw their eyes.. People came to us for hug ... Or leaving in silence, but they forget to realize that they are surround by the walls, doors, other people's shoulders...
How catastrophic we missin a time! Just a few days, 3 runs and all, as always, turned out very very "draft". About non-ready conditions say all injuries are much more suited to the "big circus production" that to the small theater form, in which - we are. Burned hands from the ropes to the blisters that fester, sprains, swelling joints, tears, failures, falling asleep on the rumble of full volume show music ...
4 to 5 meters stage, 6 chairs with stairs that goes to the roof. Air was so squeezed. The atmosphere of suffocation and tightness incoming immediately. This is very annoying, infuriates, exhausting, because thinkin of the psycho-physical behaving on it is very difficult. The audience will sit in the amphitheater and all the actors have to climb up and strip off the skin on the hands and body, almost motionless, hanging on the ropes for to give actors at this moment to be seen. But the answer to the question "Why?" will come later.
Full sense of the growing failure from the usual words - "Dont bother, take easy.
Everything will be fine."
Master, who shuffles the scenes, people, conversations like a true magician. Provocation works as perfect as a Swiss watch. All nerves knots become strippin. And depending of the availability and the length of leashes, demons from inside begin to go walkin and look around.
In the nearest pharmacy ends all antibiotics and cigarettes.
Sign of the finish line - a answer to any common questions with quote from the script.
But Master made this line - finishing labyrinth in a minefield.
In the labyrinth we went with our teachers, who burned their feet with us and even tried to carry us on hands. We went there with those who have not stepped on stage, but put make-up straight inside themselves. Almost torned pieces of the script said that the script writer get know something unknown for all of us about Chekhov. They gave us props in their hands and all things were covered with their PARTICIPATION.
We went out into the stage and breathed the wall. The air was burned by lamps, eyes and increasing sound of Ave Maria of magic Opera Mechanica. Master doesn't watch any of his performances, but before leaving from backstage we stepped on the shadow, which had familiar contour.
Then actors often says - it was like in a fog. Little lie. Even with the sweat in eyes it is so. But to say - went to the point A from B and (using basic skills) push a tear from left eye - the same lie. Skills did not work those time and voice been broken really. Stuck in wet costumes - the feelings of swimming in an overcoat.
We didn't made revolution. Not poured testimony from the bucket on audience. We are not undraw the frontiers. But I think we hugged each other and grouped in such a way that allowed all who interested - to come IN.
It was uneven, many was missed...
We missed a target, but the shot was more important.
We have not beaten the cup, although many spilled on the road. But the Master allow such generosity.
Probably I stayed static, but again and again experienced that non-often feeling that none of us was unnecessary and redundant ...
P.S. Thank you, Gulya ... I knew you were there. And for all that pictures.
No comments:
Post a Comment