WESTERN ART SURPASSED IN THE RUSSIAN THEATRE.

Star (Christchurch), Volume LXVI, Issue 20510, 11 January 1935, Page 6

WESTERN ART SURPASSED IN THE RUSSIAN THEATRE.

To-day’s Special Article

Classicism and Radicalism in Style Both Flourish on the Moscow Stage.

By

Philip A. Adler.

There is at least one field of human endeavour in which tffe Soviet threat of five years ago to catch up with the western world has been fully carried out. The Soviet theatre has not only overtaken that of the West, but has by far outdistanced it. Moscow to-day, without doubt, is the theatrical capital of the world. It boasts no less than forty theatres, not counting the many movie houses and vaudeville shows. Every one of them is filled to capacity every night in the week. They offer a variety of theme, theatrical theory and manner of presentation such as cannot be found anywhere in the world.

r PHEY VARY from the strictest classicism to the wildest ultra-modernism. Style runs far ahead of theory and the stage often presents what has not yet been crystallised as a school and pigeon-holed as some sort of an “ ism.” There are theatres with and without curtains. There are stages with and without scenery. Scenery may vary from the most elaborate designs by the Soviet’s famous artists and decorators to a mere stepladder. Actors read their lines from the stage or from the audience, which is then regarded as part of the cast. Actors may appear in the most elaborate make-up or have none at all. And the Moscow public takes it all in and demands more. Saved from Revolution. The theatre always ranked high in Russia. Its supporters in the past were the Russian aristocracy, on the one hand, and the intelligentsia on the other. Neither the tired business man nor the workman had much to say about it. The latter even displayed some hostility toward the theatre during the early phases of the Bolshevik Revolution and regarded it as bourgeois entertainment, hardly suited for a proletarian State. Soviet leaders, themselves men of high culture, saved it from the revolutionary wrath of the masses, but not without some sacrifice. Plays, that in any way could be interpreted as unfriendly to the new regime were discarded as counter-revolutionary. Tolstoy, Chekhov and the majority of the Russian and foreign classics went overboard. The stage became a mighty vehicle of propaganda for the new State. Then began the slow but continuous process of its growth and expansion under the new regime. What connection there is between building a tractor plant in Siberia or raising tea in the Caucasus and the Moscow theatre may not be evident to the average foreigner, but the link is there. Constructive Bolshevism, as expressed in the Five-Year Plan, somehow affected the theatrical critics. Censors began to look for artistic beauty as well as for the class struggle in plays. Chekhov, once denounced as petty bourgeois, again has been raised on a pedestal. The authors followed. All these things, together with the rich crop of new Soviet writers, have brought to the Soviet theatre a repertory of unlimited extent and variety. While this struggle over dramatic content was conducted on one theatrical front, to use a Soviet term, the old battle over form was resumed, with truly Bolshevik tempo, on another. The leading actors began to create their “ studios ” to carry out their own experiments. These in time developed into new theatres. Prejudices Disappear. And so there are in Moscow to-day the Great Theatre and the Affiliated Great Theatre; the Moscow Art Theatre, the Second Art Theatre and the Affiliated Art Theatre; the Theatre of the Revolution and the Historical-Revolutionary Theatre; the Small Theatre, the Kamerny Theatre, the Meyerhold, the Vakhtangov, the Safranov studios; the Ukrainian, Jewish and Gypsy Theatre—forty in all. Volumes have been written on the Russian ballet, the Moscow Art Theatre and on the Meyerhold Studio. No attempt will be made in this brief article to present the various Soviet schools of acting. Suffice it to say that the Great Theatre, with a b a ® ® is is @ in ®s ® ® a ® @ @ si a ffl @ a ® i

capacity of about 3000, is devoted exclusively to the ballet and the opera. A few revolutionary themes have been added to its repertory, but whatever prejudices had existed against the appearance on the stage of heroic Czars, brave princes, sleeping princesses, fair maidens converted by some evil spirit or another into graceful swans, have all disappeared. With its staff of about 200 operatic actors, nearly that many ballet dancers, an orchestra of about 100 pieces and some of the best-known artists, decorators and lighting engineers—all, by the way, natives of Russia and the majority having received their training under the Soviets—the Great Theatre is regarded by Russians as having no equal in the world. Then there is the Moscow Art Theatre, which has not deviated one iota from its old realistic tradition and, under the Soviets as under the Czars, is regarded by many critics as the foremost dramatic theatre is the world. “ The theatre is not a reflector but a magnifier of life,” is the motto emblazoned in bold characters over the entrance to the Meyerhold Studio. True to this motto, its actors often appear on the stage as caricatures, with projecting bulbous noses, wild manes and savage manners. But the acting is done so well that the conservative spectator soon becomes reconciled to the absence of a curtain, to a sole stepladder or a bit of trestle work in lieu of scenery and to the stereopticon flashes announcing whether the bare wall represents an ancient Russian castle, a tropical forest, the ocepn waves or a market place in Shanglreti. State Supports Theatres. This expansion of the theatre would have been impossible without the active support of the Soviet State, which regards it as an integral part of its programme of public education. The theatre is supported by the State (a good actor, singer or dancer receiving slightly less than a good mechanic) and hence may be regarded as a part of a workman’s salary. Every professional organisation, every school, every club, every military unit is allowed a certain number of tickets, which it distributes among its members. Hence the capacity audiences. And to do a little eavesdropping among the audience during intermission is fully as entertaining as the acting. It is a highly critical and demanding audience. Last month two new theatres sprang up in Moscow, the Masters of Arts and the Young Worker’s Theatres. Each had a long declaration showing wherein it differed from the other theatres and showing, of course, that the future of the Russian drama depended solely upon it. Some years ago, Nemirovich Danchenko, Russian novelist, dramatist, impresario and associate of the great Stanislavsky, not satisfied with the classical rendition of Carmen, created his own musical studio and presented his own “ Carmencita and the Soldier,” which, by the way, was presented in the United States and took America by storm. The Great Theatre came back with a new Carmen, new scenery, new costumes and a new rendition —the most gorgeous thing ever seen in Moscow. According to reports, Stanislavsky is now experimenting with an entirely different Carmen. Similar experiments with various plays, old and new, are reported from a dozen different theatres. (N.A.N.A. Copyright.) lffifflS®®®®ffl®®®®ffiffi®SE , ®EEß®®®lll