The premiere of Kirill Serebrennikov’s new play “An Ordinary Story” based on the novel of the same name by Ivan Goncharov took place on the stage of the Gogol Center. The director showed a master class in how modern theater should treat classics to make it fair and truthful. We attended the production

Goncharov's first novel was published back in 1847. Since then, the small landed nobility, serfdom and the table of ranks have disappeared. Everything else seems to remain. The plot of the novel is universal at all times. Judge for yourself: a green provincial comes to conquer the capital, where all sorts of disappointments, difficulties and temptations await him. How many such fellows did French literature send to “lose illusions” in sparkling Paris, and American literature sent them to Chicago and New York in search of the notorious dream. Nowadays, perhaps every resident of Moscow recognizes Sasha Aduev in one of his acquaintances or, reluctantly, in himself. Except that not everyone has the right uncle.

Therefore, modernizing “Ordinary History” (the name, however, speaks for itself) turned out to be not so difficult. Instead of noble habits, give the hero a guitar and jeans, move the capital from St. Petersburg to Moscow in accordance with historical realities, and make the uncle an enterprising businessman, symbolically trading in light (truth, enlightenment, hope - the associative series can be continued endlessly). And voila - welcome to the 21st century. With the loss of the gallant details of the 19th century, history has noticeably become rougher - as if rubbed with pumice. A noble son would hardly lie drunk in garbage bags and use the unprintable equivalent of the word “damn.” But this is the price of the truth of life: every time you have to remove the smell of mothballs.

The set design of the performance tends towards symbolic abstraction: the black-covered stage was equipped with practical tables and chairs and several conceptual inclusions like the luminous “MOM” sign, the scarlet letter “M” from the entrance to the capital’s subway and the huge “O”, which are unobtrusively manipulated either by heroes or workers scenes. All this, coupled with light nudity and ironic BDSM hints, creates a harmonious setting for the translation of eternal meanings from the language of the 19th century to the modern one.

The uncle shows thorough “cookies” to each ideal of an inexperienced nephew. However, they all only anticipate the real ones that harsh reality is preparing. Falling in love passes, the line between talent and mediocrity is gradually erased, illusions melt away. Life experience breaks rose-colored glasses and crumples pages with naive poems, deceives and forces you to deceive.

The conflict between Sasha and Pyotr Ivanovich is often called a dress rehearsal for the confrontation between Oblomov and Stolz. But if the latter, having “butted heads”, each remain true to their nature, then the author turns the Aduyevs inside out. The dreamy poet turns into a hopeless cynic, and the stern uncle faces the loss of true love. Because it’s like she has no place here. “There is no better / That world,” the slogan generated by the newly minted Sasha the businessman speaks for itself. I want to cross the heroes.

The modern “Ordinary History” turned out to be gloomily hopeless, frightening, like a shabby entrance with broken light bulbs - life to the touch in a symphony of unpleasant sensations and smells. This is exactly what the Russian analogy of the myth of the “American Dream” should be. The reliability is beyond doubt. It turned out paradoxically: by maximally altering the literary source in a modern way, Kirill Serebrennikov confirmed Goncharov’s right to immortality.

Premiere theater

The Moscow Gogol Center presented the first premiere on the big stage after several months of renovation - "An Ordinary Story" based on Goncharov's novel, directed by the theater's artistic director Kirill Serebrennikov. Narrated by ROMAN DOLZHANSKY.

Goncharov's classic novel about the formation and maturation of the provincial romantic Alexander Aduev in the Gogol Center has been recoded for the modern viewer. Instead of the century before last - today's Russia. Instead of St. Petersburg - present-day Moscow. Instead of school literature from the bookshelf - the language that is spoken now. The theme of a provincial who has settled in the capital is not alien to the artistic director Kirill Serebrennikov himself, and in the performances of the Gogol Center it arises from time to time - there are a lot of young people both in the hall and on the stage, so the problem is “how to use your ideals” , is unlikely to seem too academic within these walls.

If we remember the previous performances of Kirill Serebrennikov, then, in my opinion, a direct path leads to “Ordinary History” from “Near Zero” based on the acclaimed novel by Nathan Dubovitsky. Here, as there, the most important is the image of the capital's Moscow society as a black hole, bending and devouring everyone who falls into its zone of attraction. Even literal analogies come to mind - the main design elements of “An Ordinary Story” (the stage design here was invented by the director himself) are huge luminous holes-zeros, around which events unfold. And all around was blackness, only a couple of red letters “M”, indicating the entrance to the Moscow subway. So that there is no doubt, at some point the details add up to the word MOSCOW: for this, the second “M” is turned over, the section in one of the zeros goes out, and the role of S is played by the related dollar icon on the currency exchange rate board that appears from the street exchanger.

Aduev Jr.’s uncle Peter operates in this city, apparently, with really big zeros. A mid-level oligarch, he claims to produce light, but looks more like the prince of darkness, even reminiscent of Bulgakov’s Woland: all in black, speaks from somewhere in a darkened corner, limps, and at first it even seems that his eyes are different colors. The dry, calculating businessman from Goncharov’s novel is turned by Alexei Agranovich into a cynical and cruel functionary, into some kind of living dead. Accurate in detail, confident, imbued with invisible, but more than appropriate humor here, Agranovich’s work condenses the image of the uncle to some kind of mystical concentration. If Goncharov's Aduev Sr. simply accurately predicts all the disappointments awaiting Aduev Jr., then the hero of the new play seems to have the secret power to independently send trials to people.

As for Aduev Jr., in the work of the young actor Philip Avdeev, reference points are still more important than the continuity of the process. The difference in potential between the prologue and the finale is, of course, striking. In the beginning, there is a handsome provincial rocker with an open smile and spontaneous reactions, who leaves his busy mother (Svetlana Bragarnik) for the capital: the plywood nest room falls apart, and the hero finds himself among the blackness of Moscow. In the finale, Alexander is a self-confident, favorably married careerist, still young, but already the “master of life,” ready, out of old memory, to benefit his wilted and aged uncle. By the end of the performance, Kirill Serebrennikov seems to change places between the two main characters. Alexander Aduev, having killed all living things in himself, becomes a calculating schemer. Pyotr Aduev, who a few years ago taught his nephew not to give in and not to trust feelings, is having a hard time with the death of his wife, whom he, as we now understand, deeply and sincerely loved. And in the end he even manages to grab a pinch of the audience’s sympathies - perhaps even more valuable than those in which the character of the charming Avdeev should literally bathe in the first part.

The genre that Kirill Serebrennikov chose when paving the way for Ordinary History ingeniously balances between modern mystery and satirical comedy. Intertwined with the action, Alexander Manotskov’s vocal cycle “Five Short Revelations” based on the text of “The Revelations of John the Theologian” seems to separate what is happening from reality, turning the plot into a sublimely detached edification. But the caustic, merciless observation of the director brings the performance back - as in the scene of Alexander Aduev’s arrival in his hometown, where he meets his first love: a young woman pregnant with her third child sells flowers, and her husband steals goods from cemeteries and returns them to sale.

It seems that in the very title “Ordinary History” one can hear the writer’s call for humility before the law of life - every “nephew” is destined to turn into an “uncle”, and this rule should be accepted without anger. Kirill Serebrennikov also does not intend to rebel. He peers into the darkness with interest and curiosity, but still with fear too - in any case, he himself is not in danger of becoming a theatrical “uncle”.

Goncharov’s novel “Ordinary History” was published in 1847. It was written relatively quickly and much easier than the novel included with it in a kind of trilogy - “The Cliff” and “Oblomov”.

In the center are two heroes - an uncle and a nephew. The young romantic Sasha Aduev and his uncle Pyotr Ivanovich are the complete opposite of him. But for some reason he attracts many readers even more than his nephew.

So, Sasha Aduev is the only son of a wealthy landowner. The father is not seen in the novel - apparently, he died. For mother Sasha is the center of the Universe. She can't imagine anyone not wanting to pamper him as much as she does. Even if it is her uncle Pyotr Ivanovich Aduev, her husband’s brother.

Sasha, as mentioned above, is an enthusiastic romantic and idealist. He longs for high goals, high feelings - and to be a writer. He arrives in St. Petersburg, and his mother writes a letter to Pyotr Ivanovich asking him to take care of him.

Now let's move on to the character of Pyotr Ivanovich. This is truly the complete opposite of Sasha. He is used to relying on Reason in everything. He considers Business to be the main thing in life, and feelings are just a pleasant addition, but nothing more. Once upon a time he also came to St. Petersburg. What he had to go through to become what he became - a civil servant and owner of several factories - remains behind the scenes. But as a result, we have before us a person who is extremely closed, rational, but...kind.

The main feature of Pyotr Ivanovich can be considered that he has already realized that people are not angels. But not demons either. And besides high feelings, everyone also has low feelings. And he accepted it. Recognized that people are people.

Sasha, with his characteristic youthful maximalism and, what can we say, the selfishness of a spoiled child, cannot come to terms with this. Having experienced the betrayal of his girlfriend and the “betrayal” of a friend (we’ll talk about this below), he decides to hate all people. When he meets his uncle and his young wife Lisa, he makes fun of everyone he knows, comparing them to animals. By the way, Pyotr Ivanovich, in a conversation with Sasha, never allows himself to slander, apparently considering this a waste of time. Although he can even be cruel to Sasha himself, ridiculing what is dear to him. It can be assumed that Pyotr Ivanovich simply wants to protect his young nephew from the pain that invariably accompanies the clash of illusions and reality. But to no avail, as always happens. Everyone should have their own bumps - this is the law of life.

And although Pyotr Ivanovich may indeed seem like a cracker and a cynic, wise thoughts slip into his words. When Sasha accuses Nadenka, who cheated on him, of ingratitude, his uncle tells him: “Why should she be grateful to you? For love? So did you love her for her sake? Did you want to please? He also tries to bring him back to reality regarding the “betrayal” of his friend Pospelov. That when he met Sasha after several years of separation, he did not rush to hug him. For Sasha, this is a betrayal, after which he becomes completely disappointed in people.

Pyotr Ivanovich gives the impression of an integral and strong personality. But it is not so. Pyotr Ivanovich is an extremely reserved person. Sasha believes that his uncle values ​​money too highly. But, judge for yourself, can a person who values ​​money more than anything in the world, every time Sasha comes to him for advice, ask: “Should I give you some money?”

But the fact of the matter is that Sasha and Pyotr Ivanovich’s wife, Lisa, need something completely different from him. A kind word and sincere participation. Just what he is unable to give. It’s easier for him to pay off than to let loved ones into his soul. Denying stupid sensitivity, he himself is not able to show feeling. For which he had to pay in the end. But I think if any of the characters can be reborn, it will be him.

Kommersant, March 17, 2015

Uncle without rules

"An Ordinary Story" at the Gogol Center

The Moscow Gogol Center presented its first premiere on the big stage after several months of renovation - "An Ordinary Story" based on Goncharov's novel, directed by the theater's artistic director Kirill Serebrennikov. Narrated by ROMAN DOLZHANSKY.

Goncharov's classic novel about the formation and maturation of the provincial romantic Alexander Aduev in the Gogol Center has been recoded for the modern viewer. Instead of the century before last - today's Russia. Instead of St. Petersburg - present-day Moscow. Instead of school literature from the bookshelf - the language that is spoken now. The theme of a provincial who has settled in the capital is not alien to the artistic director Kirill Serebrennikov himself, and in the performances of the Gogol Center it arises from time to time - there are a lot of young people both in the hall and on the stage, so the problem is “how to use your ideals” , is unlikely to seem too academic within these walls.

If we remember the previous performances of Kirill Serebrennikov, then, in my opinion, a direct path leads to “Ordinary History” from “Near Zero” based on the acclaimed novel by Nathan Dubovitsky. Here, as there, the most important is the image of the capital's Moscow society as a black hole, bending and devouring everyone who falls into its zone of attraction. Even literal analogies come to mind - the main design elements of “An Ordinary Story” (the stage design here was invented by the director himself) are huge luminous holes-zeros, around which events unfold. And all around is blackness, only a couple of red letters “M”, indicating the entrance to the Moscow subway. So that there is no doubt, at some point the details add up to the word MOSCOW: for this, the second “M” is turned over, the section in one of the zeros goes out, and the role of S is played by the related dollar icon on the currency exchange rate board that appears from the street exchanger.

Aduev Jr.’s uncle Peter operates in this city, apparently, with really big zeros. A mid-level oligarch, he claims to produce light, but looks more like the prince of darkness, even reminiscent of Bulgakov’s Woland: all in black, speaks from somewhere in a darkened corner, limps, and at first it even seems that his eyes are different colors. The dry, calculating businessman from Goncharov’s novel is turned by Alexei Agranovich into a cynical and cruel functionary, into some kind of living dead. Accurate in detail, confident, imbued with invisible, but more than appropriate humor here, Agranovich’s work condenses the image of the uncle to some kind of mystical concentration. If Goncharov's Aduev Sr. simply accurately predicts all the disappointments awaiting Aduev Jr., then the hero of the new play seems to have the secret power to independently send trials to people.

As for Aduev Jr., in the work of the young actor Philip Avdeev, reference points are still more important than the continuity of the process. The difference in potential between the prologue and the finale is, of course, striking. In the beginning, there is a handsome provincial rocker with an open smile and spontaneous reactions, who leaves his busy mother (Svetlana Bragarnik) for the capital: the plywood nest room falls apart, and the hero finds himself among the blackness of Moscow. In the finale, Alexander is a self-confident, favorably married careerist, still young, but already the “master of life,” ready, out of old memory, to benefit his wilted and aged uncle. By the end of the performance, Kirill Serebrennikov seems to change places between the two main characters. Alexander Aduev, having killed all living things in himself, becomes a calculating schemer. Pyotr Aduev, who a few years ago taught his nephew not to give in and not to trust feelings, is having a hard time with the death of his wife, whom he, as we now understand, deeply and sincerely loved. And in the end he even manages to grab a pinch of the audience's sympathy - perhaps even more valuable than those in which the character of the charming Avdeev should literally bathe in the first part.

The genre that Kirill Serebrennikov chose when paving the way for Ordinary History ingeniously balances between modern mystery and satirical comedy. Intertwined with the action, Alexander Manotskov’s vocal cycle “Five Short Revelations” based on the text of “The Revelations of John the Theologian” seems to separate what is happening from reality, turning the plot into a sublimely detached edification. But the director’s caustic, merciless observation brings the play back - as in the scene of Alexander Aduev’s arrival in his hometown, where he meets his first love: a young woman pregnant with her third child sells flowers, and her husband steals goods from cemeteries and returns them to the market.

It seems that in the very title “Ordinary History” one can hear the writer’s call for humility before the law of life - every “nephew” is destined to turn into an “uncle”, and this rule should be accepted without anger. Kirill Serebrennikov also does not intend to rebel. He peers into the darkness with interest and curiosity, but still with fear too - in any case, he himself is not in danger of becoming a theatrical “uncle”.

MK, March 17, 2015

Marina Raikina

An ordinary requiem for the soul

"An Ordinary Story" became a sensation at the Gogol Center

The wonderful Russian writer Goncharov, who was included in the curriculum of the Soviet school with just one novel, has come to our time like no one else. A dramatization of his outstanding novel “An Ordinary Story” (created in 1847) was presented by Kirill Serebrennikov at his Gogol Center. To the heated question - how to stage classics today, so as not to offend the memory of the creators and the feelings of believers - the director answers with his premiere - to stage them hard and well.

In Serebrennikov’s dramatization, the storyline is not changed at all - from point “A” (one village in the Russian province), the boy Sasha Aduev (with a guitar, ideals and dreams) went to point “B” - the Russian capital with pure intentions to conquer the impregnable one with his talent. His uncle Pyotr Ivanovich Aduev lives there, a efficient, respectable, but very cynical gentleman who showers his overheated nephew with his sobriety, like a cold shower. The clash of youthful idealism and experienced cynicism is the main conflict of Goncharov’s novel, unchanged at all times. Only our time has given it a special sharpness and cruelty.

On the stage there is only light and shadow in the literal sense of the word: the successful and rich Aduev Sr. turned out to be a monopolist on the lighting equipment market. It also becomes a decoration: three giant letters “O” hit the hall with cold neon and, in various combinations, break up the gloomy space. That rare case when the scenographic solution becomes the most expressive metaphor (light and shadow, black and white), continuing in the costumes (the author is Serebrennikov himself). The monochrome is a bit boring, but Serebrennikov’s stylish one is so rich in shades of meaning (more than 50?) that allow one to avoid flat answers to flat questions: who is good/bad? who is right/wrong? and what values ​​are in use today?

In “Ordinary History,” the director did not answer, as it turns out, ordinary questions: with the help of Goncharov, he examined the time and generations that lived or were born in New Russia. One has gone through the difficult circles of Russian business (from crimson jackets to expensive ones from Francesco Smalto or Patrick Helman), without lyrics, cynical, effective, smart as hell, but for some reason the mind brings its share of grief. His antipode is a sweet lip-slapper poet, impetuous, but childish and with an attrited sense of responsibility. The director does not hide his sympathies - they are on the side of Aduev Sr. A serious study, similar to a duel with a sad ending - no one is killed, but the living, like corpses, uncle and nephew sit on a cemetery bench and look into the hall with dead eyes.

Interest in the almost three-hour duel (the hall is not breathing) is due to the performance of the actors. The role of Aduev Jr. is played by Philip Avdeev, but in the role of his uncle, quite unexpectedly for everyone, was Alexey Agranovich, who in Moscow is known primarily as the owner of his own company, producer, director of the opening ceremonies of the Moscow Film Festival. Surprisingly, it is Agranovich and his performance that give the action a special authenticity, and as a result make Serebrennikov’s performance more than successful. Not a picture painted in black and white, but a deep portrait of generations against the backdrop of time. It seems that Agranovich does not even play in the proposed circumstances, but exists in them, since they are familiar to him. Having lived and cooked in the post-perestroika meat grinder, it seems that he is ready to subscribe to many of Goncharov’s texts. Interview with the actor after the performance.

- Alexey, is it just me or do you really know the business environment that is discussed in the play so well?

- I know this drama in myself. Money is an important thing, yes, but I know the drama of a man who convinced himself that he was not given unique abilities by God, and he began to replace nature with common sense and efficiency. Life is a cruel thing, you are constantly faced with choices that apply not only to work, but also to your personal life.

- Still, be clear: do you have an acting education? You have a wonderful stage speech, you feel so at ease on stage.

- I was expelled from my third year at VGIK, I studied with Albert Filozov. I played in the play “The Seagull”, worked a little with Trushkin, but that was 20 years ago, and since then I haven’t played in a drama.

- How did you get into this unusual story for you?

- I met Kirill Serebrennikov in different companies. And he once asked me if I knew an artist of such and such age, with such qualities - in general, he described me. I told him a few, he said he knew, but something wasn’t working out. “Don’t you want to try it yourself?” - he asked. I thought, I wasn't confident in myself and he wasn't confident in me. But then I decided that such offers cannot be refused. I still feel like I'm in a good/bad American drama.

- We saw the recordings of that legendary performance with KO Zakov and Tabakov?

- No, I’ll say more, I haven’t even read the novel before. I was afraid to watch, now that they’ve already played, watchYu .

- How do you solve the dilemma for yourself: murderous cynicism or irresponsible idealism?

- There is no truth here. There are two Aduevs living in each of us, and to remain one of them in its pure form means to be either an idiot or a complete cynic. You have to trust God, fate - do what you have to, and come what may. For me, the ending that Kirill came up with is very important in this performance - it’s a requiem for an endangered human species. New people came, but... we raised them ourselves. Everything turns into nothing - this is the main merit and statement of Kirill.

In “An Ordinary Story”, as is often the case with Serebrennikov, the new generation (the wonderful Philip Avdeev, Ekaterina Steblina) and the actors of the former troupe of the Gogol Theater are occupied - Svetlana Bragarnik (she has two roles) and Olga Naumenko (the bride of Zhenya Lukashin from “The Irony of Fate” "). It must be said that the latter essentially has one exit (not counting the singing in a trio in the background), but one exit is worth a lot.

Petersburg theater magazine, March 17, 2015

Anna Banasyukevich

They are responsible for the light

"An ordinary story." Based on the novel by I. A. Goncharov. "Gogol Center". Director and artist Kirill Serebrennikov.

In the play by Kirill Serebrennikov, Uncle Pyotr Ivanovich turned from a successful official into a successful businessman who owns a monopoly on artificial lighting in the capital. Aduev Jr., Sasha, from a poet to an amateur rock musician who came to conquer Moscow. Moscow in the “Ordinary History” of the “Gogol Center” is several huge glowing zeros (to these three I instinctively want to add a couple more and remember the pompous Sochi Olympics, at which, of course, more than one enterprising businessman got rich) and the shining letter “M” ", denoting the metro.

Almost the entire first act of the play is a retelling of Goncharov’s novel, adjusted in accordance with modern realities: first of all, this affected the language spoken by the characters. The language became simpler, faster, absorbed Newspeak, lost its literary beauties, and acquired urban rhythm and stinginess. The life circumstances of the heroes remained almost untouched, the main conflict too - a poor idealistic nephew, an enthusiastic puppy, comes to a rich uncle who has achieved a strong and enviable position, devoid of any illusions and not prone to sentimentality. The barrier in their emerging relationship in the play is even strengthened - Serebrennikov introduces the character of Vasily, the bodyguard and assistant of Aduev Sr. As soon as Sasha, unable to control the impulse, rushes to his uncle, Vasily stands between them as an indestructible rock.

The attempt to adapt “An Ordinary Story” to the modern way of life did not touch the deep essences, and Sasha remained the same Goncharov barchuk, accustomed to his mother’s affection, to the open spaces of the village, to the obsequiousness of the servants. Of course, there are no servants in the play, there is only the mother (a charming “warm” role by Svetlana Bragarnik), fussily putting her son’s things into a suitcase. But Sasha Philip Avdeev still does not look like the modern boys who come from the provinces to conquer Moscow - we still need to look for such clean boys, untouched by everyday life and street life. It seems that such an Sasha would have been killed in the first gateway. Such Sasha would already be familiar with work, unskilled and low-paid labor. He would have been drafted into the army, maybe. Either way, he would have grown up quickly. Sasha in this performance is completely infantile, completely cut off from everyday life - light hair, a hopelessly out of tune guitar, almost caricatured enthusiasm, a tearing voice shouting bad pretentious poetry into the microphone. However, life's inconsistencies with the image of time are leveled out by parodic intonation, which intensifies as the performance progresses. When Sasha is abandoned by the calculating girl Nadya, he sobs on his uncle’s lap so desperately, so loudly that one can only smile. I don’t feel sorry for Sasha - both the actor and the author of the play treat him too ironically. At the back of the stage, in the left corner, three women, like Macbeth’s witches, prophesy evil to Sasha, predict spiritual death. At the end of the play, Sasha changes suddenly, without a smooth transition: the disappointed, broken boy disappears from the stage, so that fifteen minutes later, next to Pyotr Ivanovich, shocked by the death of his wife, a nondescript man with a stiff back, a smooth face and slicked hair sits down.

If Sasha seems like an abstraction, a generalized image of a young idealist outside of specific time and spatial coordinates, then his uncle Pyotr Ivanovich, in the restrained, softly ironic performance of Alexei Agranovich, although not without type, wins sympathy with his complexity, as opposed to the superficiality of his nephew. Thinking soberly, you think that the Russian mafiosi, who amassed capital in the 90s and became ennobled in the 2000s, are unlikely to be like that. Well, maybe with rare exceptions. But that’s what theater is for – to convince the viewer with the power of art, and not with life-likeness. Agranovich in the role of the uncle is charming, like Al Pacino from “The Devil’s Advocate” or Clooney from “Burn Before You Read.” In his stylish cynicism, in his mocking observation, in his not arrogant, not flaunting self-confidence, the depth of nature emerges - a nature, in fact, passionate, living life with its diversity to the core, sensually, strongly, mercilessly. Agranovich plays in such a way that when his uncle prophesies family troubles for Sasha, you understand: this is not the fantasy of a playful mind, but life experience, the fruit of many disappointments. Cursing in annoyance as he exhales, Pyotr Andreevich hastily leaves the stage, unable to listen to the poetic hysteria of his nephew, choking in tears - and here one can only smile sympathetically. After all, Sasha at this moment, despite all his sincerity, is simply tasteless and vulgar. Pyotr Andreevich, of course, is a bandit, but an esthete - and here the artistry of his nature and impeccable taste take precedence over the initial circumstances. Theatricality trumps everyday life. Towards the end, the glowing zeros line up in a row, forming an MRI capsule. Pyotr Andreevich scurries around his dying wife Lisa in confusion. This final chord - an almost silent readiness to save a loved one at any cost, defenseless confusion in the face of inevitable grief - again reveals a rich, contradictory nature. When the uncle and nephew sit next to each other at the very end, you think about how the elite crushed them. Sasha’s arrogance immediately breaks through with vanity - vanity that despises any grief, vanity that is not embarrassed by its inappropriateness. He eagerly creates ambitious projects, dreams of the position of Minister of Light that was promised to him, comes up with apocalyptic advertising slogans like “Better than the other world” and, in the spirit of today’s aggressive churchmen, promises to flood the whole country with his light. Sasha is now both funny and scary. But if in Goncharov’s novel the uncle was proud of his nephew, here Agranovich’s hero is more perspicacious and therefore sad.

The second act of “An Ordinary Story” follows the plot of the novel only in part - the line of Sasha and the widow Tafaeva, whom the uncle ordered to charm in the interests of the case, becomes one of the main ones. If in the novel Tafaeva is still a young beauty, then Olga Naumenko plays a passionate elderly woman, sometimes cruel in her self-confidence, sometimes naive in her self-exposing helplessness. The text in this slow huge scene is fragmentary and stalled. The heroes stall in the same way, marking time in a strange dance. But it is precisely this scene that transforms the performance into a different quality - from parodic illustrativeness to a dense existential mixture. A painful, viscous, hopeless feeling becomes the leitmotif, and the performance, unfolding in full force, becomes a statement about modern Russia. If Goncharov’s “An Ordinary Story” told about how the soul becomes callous, how conformism overcomes the liveliness of nature, then the Gogol Center’s performance, in many ways, is about the evil dehumanizing power of the city. If Goncharov's Aduev wanders around in thought, then Philip Avdeev's Sasha, drunk, lies in mountains of garbage, unable to connect two words. If Goncharov’s hero returned home, as if to a reliable parental nest, and rejoiced at the fields and open spaces, then the current Sasha goes home only for his mother’s funeral. There are no illusions - his former lover, once again pregnant and happy with life, sells flowers; her husband, a former friend and bandmate, helps her by stealing flowers from graves and returning them to the shop. This is the cycle. This scene, viscous, almost unbearable, makes one remember Serebrennikov’s other performances - both the early “Plasticine” with its painful scene of Spira’s funeral, and the recent “Thugs”, in which the main character dragged the coffin with his father across the vast, remote expanses of an indifferent, deserted homeland. Here, in this scene, the horror and hopelessness are precisely from what Dostoevsky exhaustively formulated at one time: “A man is broad, I would narrow it.” Sonya (Maria Selezneva) is sincerely glad for Sasha, but her nobility lies only in the fact that she warns her former lover: when you put it on the grave, break the stems, otherwise they will steal it. She is surprised by his naivety, coy, but quickly grabs the thousand he holds out to her, and makes an excuse - they are Dutch, expensive, so she took it. This dense horror is poured out in full blood in the monologue of Victor (Ivan Fominov), Sonya’s wife, an ageless man in a stretched T-shirt. Swearing and swearing, he itches and itches, lumping everything into a heap - the philistine hatred of the notorious Dutch and their persistent flowers, and contempt for tight-fisted customers, and indifference to loved ones, and pettiness mixed with total indifference. Here's a Russian bouquet.

Izvestia, March 17, 2015

Oleg Karmunin

Serebrennikov moved “An Ordinary Story” to modern Moscow

The artistic director of the Gogol Center continues to defend the right to a non-standard interpretation of the classics

The booklet for Kirill Serebrennikov’s new performance does not contain the usual annotation about what the director wanted to say. Instead of talking about the production process, the artistic director of the Gogol Center criticizes school education, which, in his opinion, kills the living perception of Russian classics. He compares Ivan Goncharov's novel with bright modern prose and says that the classics at one time caused the same fierce debate as the work of Vladimir Sorokin and Zakhar Prilepin today. This text is like a challenge to the conservative theater and all the guardians of the classics who are indignant at modern interpretations of Russian literature.

Perhaps in this way Kirill Serebrennikov is hinting that he staged a play about himself. The play is about not giving up, even if the generally accepted picture of the world or the situation changes not in your favor. Despite the endless stream of criticism from defenders of theatrical traditions, the artistic director of the Gogol Center continues to stick to his line: he is the same idealist as the main character of the novel An Ordinary Story.

The main character, 20-year-old Sasha Aduev, who came from a remote province to conquer the capital, initially has rather naive ideas about the world, good and evil. He sings protest songs to the accompaniment of an acoustic guitar and dreams of eternal love. A cruel city, where the laws of power and money rule, and people are ready to betray each other for personal gain, forces a young man to reconsider his views on the world. “Why do you always talk about money?” - the young man asks his uncle, a cynical businessman, battered by life in the capital. Pyotr Ivanovich Aduev sighs heavily: “What a fool!”, and the question hangs in the air.

Kirill Serebrennikov aggravates the conflict of the novel. A teenager, due to his maximalism, sees the world in black and white. From a colorful village he finds himself in a black city, where everyone wears mourning clothes and where only large fluorescent lamps in the form of zeros flicker with white light. In the performance they are used in different ways: zeros become furniture, decoration and the main symbol of the dark capital. For Serebrennikov, this is not St. Petersburg of the Goncharov era, but modern Moscow, but for a century and a half, as it turned out, the values ​​have not changed.

Young artist Philip Avdeev plays a hot-tempered young man who constantly rushes around the stage with burning eyes and tries to tell others about his stupid dreams. Uncle (Alexey Agranovich) impressively and knowledgeably explains to the young man the laws of success in soulless Moscow. “Strike first”, “the main thing is profit”, “do you know how many people like you come here?” He speaks clearly and to the point, easily breaking all provincial stereotypes. His wife Lisa (Ekaterina Steblina) at first tries to convince the young man that the world is not as harsh as it seems, but you can’t argue with reality - everything around is pitch black.

His uncle gets Sasha a job at his factory for the production of energy-saving light bulbs, continually dragging the young man into all sorts of unscrupulous adventures. One day, returning from work, Sasha meets his old friend, who is rummaging through garbage bags. “Don’t come near me, I stink,” says the friend. The conversation doesn't go well. There is nothing in common between them anymore. Sometimes a young man dreams of his mother. In these disturbing visions, she chirps casually that everything will be fine soon. This, of course, is not true, nothing can be changed - the clouds have thickened, and thunder will soon strike.

The front of “defenders of the classics from desecration” is expanding, and the “Gogol Center”, led by its artistic director, like the young Sasha Aduev, is naively