It must be noted that Moscow was eagerly anticipating the work of Konstantin Yurievich, intrigued by the fact that another Konstantin Yurievich — Khabensky — was the first to present "The Seagull" at his theater in Kamergersky Lane this season. The audience awaited a response and, not without excitement (and a hint of malice), placed bets on how radical Bogomolov's interpretation of Chekhov would be. Perhaps he would make Arkadina a transgender character and pair the writer Trigorin with the intellectual Dorn from the provinces? However, Bogomolov surprised everyone and did not indulge in the corrupt fashion of the day. Surprised — and this is an understatement for a production that can largely be considered programmatic for him.
The leader of the theater (not only in a local sense but also in a broader context) approached Chekhov's work both from within and beyond, engaging with the text in a unique way. Bogomolov does not radically rewrite the author, as seen in "New Optimistic"; instead, he incorporates his text into Chekhov's. He plays with phrases, rearranging or concluding Chekhov's sentences in his own manner, simplifying the wording but not the essence. Ultimately, he plays with phrases, parodying Chekhov himself.
For instance, in the very first scene, which begins with Anton Pavlovich's dialogue between Masha and teacher Medvedenko, featuring the line that has become a meme: “Why do you always wear black?” Polina Andreyevna casually retorts to the teacher: “Why do you always walk around naked?” — “I’m not walking around naked. You know I wear shorts and always go barefoot.” And already addressing the daughter of her future mother-in-law — Masha:
— And you’re always in black. Why do you always wear black?
— It’s mourning for my life.
— Mourning for what? I don’t understand. You’re healthy. Your father has a pension. If it comes to that — it’s much harder for me than for you. I only get 53 rubles a month, yet I manage just fine.
— It’s not about money. A poor person can be happy, — says Masha, to which she receives the response: “That’s in theory, but in practice it turns out like this: I, two sisters, and a little brother, and only 53 rubles. And besides physical education, I also teach NVP and labor. And 53 rubles. You need to eat and drink, you need sugar for tea, and kefir — so just make it work.” Kefir instead of tobacco, plus NVP with labor lessons, were added to the classic text.
And Bogomolov threw in the thirty rubles for the teacher: because in the mid-80s, a family could not possibly survive on 23 rubles in the Soviet Union. It is precisely in the USSR of the perestroika period (1986–1989) that Konstantin Bogomolov relocates the plot of "The Seagull" with its characters. Meanwhile, the set design by Larisa Lomakina is also striking, as she always perfectly materializes the director's ideas in scenography and costumes. In "The Seagull," the backdrop features a summer wooden pavilion in chestnut color, elegant and seemingly sturdy, but with certain details that seem about to collapse. Much like the entire country, which appears strong and solid, yet the winds of change… For now, they only hint: changes are coming.
No, no, there are no desperate "We are waiting for changes" echoes from Tsoi on stage. Social issues are left aside. On stage — art, theater, and life. Life, by the way, is not so distant, easily recognizable in deeds and faces. Heinrich Sapgir (emphasis on the last syllable) — “Indian? Who is this Heinrich Sapgir?” — Medvedenko wonders, reading the poster for Konstantin Treplev's play. Here, other names of the sixties will emerge, which Treplev does not recognize. The fighter for new forms is radical in his assessments: “...When all these Voznesensky, Efros, Tarkovsky gather in a Moscow apartment — corpses with rabbit eyes… They scatter like cockroaches across all the rooms and eat, drink, read, damn it, poetry until morning. And I wander from room to room — a worthless, unknown person. They only tolerate me because I am her son. Who am I, what? I was expelled from VGIK for circumstances, as they say, beyond the editorial control. No talents.” And this is just the beginning of the critique of seemingly unshakeable artistic authorities.
By working with the text, Bogomolov develops the biographies of characters that are only hinted at by Chekhov. The success of actress Arkadina on the provincial stage according to Chekhov (“how they received me in Kharkov!”) is brought to near metropolitan fame by Bogomolov: Efremov persuades her every day to join the MKhAT, but she refuses — barely escaped because “Doroni will eat her alive. And I don’t want to offend Galia.” Galia — that is, Volchek.
Arkadina is a true prima who will not tolerate a rival beside her, even if she is clumsy and far from beautiful — some Nina Zarechnaya. The latter was not racing horses, but a bike, and fell so hard that she performed in front of Arkadina with bloodied knees. Well, that very performance where “people, lions, horned deer — all lives extinguished as a result of a terrible… nuclear disaster. There is not a single living creature left on earth. A layer of nuclear ash covers the sky, preventing the sun’s rays from breaking through…” However, by updating Chekhov, Bogomolov is sensitive to the words, to the phrases of the classic, which gives him unexpected scene solutions. Thus, in the first act, during the presentation of Treplev's composition performed by Zarechnaya, the curtain rises, and there are… empty chairs. Although just a minute before, voices discussing old Soviet actors (Merkuryev and Cherkasov), the film “Kin-dza-dza,” and more could be heard.
But an empty hall for Chekhov is merely a dream of a budding actress. In reality, all the seats in the estate theater will be occupied, but the text about Merkuryev and Cherkasov, about “Kin-dza-dza,” and the late prima will sound live until Nina steps onto the makeshift stage and freezes in profile to the audience — both on stage and in the hall. “People, lions, eagles, and partridges… Nuclear ash… The souls of all the dead are in me alone: King Solomon, Kurt Cobain, Heinrich Sapgir, Trotsky, and Brodsky, Hitler, and the last leech…”
As the story unfolds, the mysteries of the characters' origins will be revealed. Masha turns out to be Dorn's daughter, while Treplev's father is a certain Shirin, “My father is Shirin — by the way, he was a good director.” Not everyone knows that this surname belongs to Mark Zakharov’s father, who, during his life, considered Bogomolov as his successor at “Lenkom.”
The actors — both seasoned and debutants — all perform remarkably: Elizaveta Bazykina (Arkadina), Sergey Gorodnichiy (Treplev), Andrey Fomin (Dorn), Dmitry Kulichkov (Trigorin), Elena Stepanyan (Nina), Daria Zhovner (Masha), and Nikita Lukin (Medvedenko), Alexander Shumsky (Shamraev), Alexandra Vinogradova (Polina Andreyevna), and the guest from MKhT Kirill Trubetskoy (Sorin).
Yet in Bogomolov's light, witty text, including parodies of the kings of interviews and parodies from the perestroika era such as Urmas Ott, Eldar Ryazanov, Alexander Ivanov, the further it goes, the more bitterness will arise. No — pain. Although after Treplev's monologue in the last act of the second act about the “thaw,” it already seemed that the main emphasis of the play bears a purely political character, and Konstantin will add a third to his two manifestos on modern liberalism — about the recent Soviet past. “And there was no ‘thaw’ at all. The authorities' rage was toy-like, and the victims were cardboard… Only when youth began to fade did they (the sixties) successfully exchange it for ‘Volgas,’ dachas in Peredelkino, and the right to travel the world as official, exhibition Soviet nonconformists…”
And yet… The continuation promised to us in the title will become the most significant meaning of the performance. Just like in Chekhov, the honest destroyer of authorities Treplev will shoot himself, while his mother will star in a film with a fashionable director (who externally resembled Zvyagintsev), and in an interview, no longer with the capricious voice of a star, but simply as a mother, she will say: