Onstage: Иванов в МХТ им чехова/Ivanov at the Chekhov Moscow Art Theater

For the second night in a row, I've been blessed with fantastic seats.  At Shukshin I was ten rows back, and tonight I was third row dead center at Moscow Art.  I love being able to see these shows for free, especially when I get seats like these!  Let's hope my luck keeps up!

Yuri Butusov is a name in Moscow that is most often associated with originality, interpretation, and Shakespeare.  His production of Richard III at the Satirikon with Konstantin Raikin was life-changing theater for me, and I can't wait to see his King Lear there.  So it was with great anticipation that this season we were all awaiting the premiere of his take on one of Chekhov's more difficult plays, Ivanov at the Moscow Art Theater.  The show premiered months ago and has been embattled from the start, garnering mixed reviews from critics and theater-goers, consigning it to an uncertain fate in the repertory.  Tonight I was finally able to see the show and come to my own conclusions about this interesting piece of theater.

To say that Butusov's style is unique is an understatement.  With his productions of Hamlet, Richard III, Sunday.Super, Macbeth and others he has certainly established a signature way of approaching material.  You know you're at a Butusov show; the aesthetic is recognizable.  I ran into one of the teachers at Moscow Art at the show and asked him if he'd seen it, and what he was expecting.  He said 'Well, we all know the story.' to which I replied 'Well, it's Butusov.  Knowing the story doesn't count for much.'  The first peculiarity about this show is that it is...BACKWARDS!...Butusov takes act four first and goes in reverse order, taking the audience through an absurd journey (2 hours 15 minutes without intermission) exploring the title character's malaise.  Ivanov's pistol is ever-present (sometimes too much so), and he shoots himself at the end of every act only to be resurrected momentarily at the beginning of the next one to continue his participation in what seems to be an absurdist comedy. 

My original impressions of the show were in fact quite positive.  For the first two acts, it was clear to me that I was watching a fresh take on Chekhov's classic, and as strange as it might be, it was working.  Adding to that was the fact that the cast was exceptional, comprised of several young actors who were my friends from school, alongside older actors (in one case, one of the master teachers at school, Igor Zolotovistky) full of energy, vibrance, and humor.  As I looked around at the house, I began to question what the fuss was all about, and whether or not this was a case of the Russian audience not wanting to mess with its classics (Russian audiences and critics can be extremely stubborn about new interpretations of classic works).  That maybe they did not want to accept Ivanov's tragedy through the lens of absurdity and humor.  I remember thinking at one point 'it's too early to tell, but this might just be genius...'. 

But...My speculations ended much the way they had began; as speculation.  As the performance wore on, what had at first seemed to be threads in a carefully woven fabric seemed to unravel.  By act three, I wasn't sure of my interpretation of events, and the audience's laughter was more awkward than confident;  somewhere we waiting for some kind of directorial confirmation of what we were watching that hadn't happened, and didn't occur by the end of the show.  Stranger than everything was the ending; abrupt and symbolic (Ivanov starts piling logs onto a pre-existing stack of wood that has been sitting conspicuously on stage throughout the show, as if about to light his own funeral pyre), but at the same time confusing.  It was a new symbol in the show's dictionary for the audience, not bearing any overt reference to anything earlier in the performance, and therefore we (and what are we all expecting?...what else?!...THE GUN!) are not quite sure how to interpret it. 

Adding to this was the fact that I noticed at one point how intricate the actors playing was, with many exchanges being nothing more than a perfectly timed glance across the stage.  Much of the games they were playing had to do with the eyes.  Excellent for film or for a smaller, more intimate setting; not so much for the main stage.  I was extremely thankful for my close seats, to be able to actually see the work that had been done;  had I been sitting in the upper balcony, I am sure the show would have looked relatively static.  There are few things I dislike more in theater than when people come onstage and do nothing more than just talk.

In the end, this Ivanov is peculiar.  Is it interesting?  Yes.  Should it continue to be played?  In my opinion, yes; the work is interesting and solid enough, although I would seriously consider moving it to the small stage at Moscow Art.  However, it leaves the audience with a feeling of incompleteness and unsurity of interpretation.  We're not sure what to take home with us from this piece.  It just doesn't tie together in the end.  We don't understand. 

Only time will tell if this production will have a future beyond this season.  I hope it does, but there is room for improvement.