PUTIN HAUNTS ACROBATIC BORIS

John Simon
07.25.2009
bloomberg.com

The stage as a long, wide corridor with bleachers on both sides suggests a sporting event or, at the very least, epic theater. Something of both gets into Boris Godunov, first staged for a Russian festival (in Russian by Brit Declan Donnellan) and now replicated in New York for our Lincoln Center one.

And festive it is, what with swirling, eye-and-ear-filling action. Only our hearts are left unmoved.

As we enter the Park Avenue Armory, we see and hear at one end a group of black-robed Russian Orthodox priests chanting the Russian for "Lord have mercy" (which we too could use) and being properly historic. At the other end an old man in modern dress (the historiographer Pimen) busily clickety-clacks at his typewriter.

That universalizing doubleness is what this mounting of Aleksandr Pushkin's 1825 play – about the frantic efforts to become or remain czar more than two centuries earlier – tries to convey. On the one hand, ancient, timeless ritual; on the other, yesterday or today's very contemporary but also timeless power struggle, complete with intrigue, fighting and political assassination.

Bard as Model

Pushkin, in his mid-20s, had little Russian theater to model himself on; his only real predecessor, Sumarokov, followed constricting French models and lacked talent. So Pushkin emulated Shakespeare, but in his Richard III rather than later, riper mode. Thus we are given largely spectacle and violence and a little sex, but only scant and very intermittent soul-searching.

Even so, Boris Godunov, who cleared his path to the throne by having the rightful heir, Czarevich Dmitry, murdered, and now rues as much as he rules, is an interesting figure. No less so is the young monk Grigory Otrepyev, who claims to be the somehow surviving Czarevich and becomes the ruthless false Dmitry, also known as the Pretender.

If, like me, you know this throbbing contest only from Mussorgsky's great operatic version, don't expect much help. The 29 characters listed in the program, and a few unlisted, are played by 17 actors, some of them doubling or trippling. I wish I knew how much Donnellan has added to or subtracted from Pushkin, for better or worse.

Splish-Splash

When Pushkin has the ambitious Polish princess Marina (the plain but sexy Irina Grineva) midnight-trysting with Grigory by a fountain, Donnellan conjures up a pool in which the two are splashingly frisking (avoid the front row). She is lovelessly stirring up the wooing man's onslaught on the throne that would make her czarina; he tries desperately to make her love him just for himself. Quite a scene.

But not everything is that captivating. Aleksandr Feklistov's Boris does convey a modern Russian politician, even looking a bit like Khrushchev. Yevgeny Mironov's Pretender does look vaguely like a chubbier Putin. But neither is quite able to elicit our sympathy, never mind empathy. It is not their fault. If your eyes must simultaneously encompass far left and distant far right, while also focusing on quick-sprinting surtitles above midstage, what chance do the actors have?

Add to this Donnellan's direction, which has them performing acrobatic leaps or frenetic foot-stampings – Grigory even gets one dizzying balletic turn – making it as hard on the actors as on us, especially if, like me, you find Russian (unlike, say, French or Italian) grating on the ear.

Arresting Scenery

Donnellan's work-and-life partner Nick Ormerod has come up with some arresting bits of decor, explicit scenery being precluded by this type of staging. There are often flaming, man-sized candlesticks bordering the stage; sometimes a symbolically tiny throne barely serves as footstool. His modern costumes similarly do not lack effect. And with both a choreographer and a separate movement director, there is no danger of the production dragging its feet.

So what do we have here? A mounting that never allows us to get bored, but also one that disallows our getting very deeply involved. ...