Unnatural Attraction
The groundbreaking playwright Vasily Sigarev returns to the stage with “Guppy,” an indictment of society’s artificially high standards of beauty.
Vasily Sigarev is one of the engines of the new Russian drama. His “Plasticene” at the Playwright and Director Center in 2001 was one of the biggest salvos in the battles to return playwrights to the center of the theatrical process. A recent production of Sigarev’s “Guppy” offers an opportunity to look back at this writer’s place in the events of the last half decade.
On the surface, perhaps the most striking thing about Anton Yakovlev’s production of “Guppy” is its venue — the National Youth Theater. Who would have thought five years ago that Sigarev would suit a youth theater’s repertoire with his violence and uncouth language? “Guppy” steers clear of abrasive language and action, but it demonstrates how far the so-called new drama has cut into the mainstream.
Another striking superficiality of Sigarev’s play is how traditional it looks compared to the work of writers who have appeared since Sigarev began blazing trails. “Guppy” is a straight melodrama, the tale of an unfortunate woman pulled in opposite directions by seemingly good and bad men. It is a tear-jerker that evokes laughs and tears.
Finally, it is interesting to note that, after the initial Sigarev boom, this is the first new Moscow production of one of his plays in several seasons. It’s not a comeback — Sigarev has not really been gone — but his presence had definitely dimmed after the initial appearance of “Plasticene,” “Black Milk,” “Phantom Pains” and other titles.
“Guppy” could have been written in any era. Sentimental tales have been prominent in Russia since Nikolai Karamzin’s story “Poor Liza” in the 18th century. Tamara is plucked from her dead-end, provincial life by Leonid, who brings her to the big city. Appreciative, she mistakes gratitude for love. But when she meets Pasha one day, she is charmed. He expresses genuine interest in her and she invites him to her apartment to talk.
The first half of “Guppy” is a comedy of errors in which the bashful Tamara (Ramilya Iskander) and the reticent Pasha (Alexander Grishin) try to engage each other tactfully. Everything from opening a bottle of wine to walking across the living room floor is fraught with peril and confusion. But despite, or, perhaps, thanks to, their awkward misadventures, Tamara’s sad story is slowly revealed. She bore Leonid a daughter, but the girl died. She takes in sewing to make ends meet. Leonid’s less-than-flattering nickname for her is “Guppy.” To brighten her drab life, she tapes silver stars on the window to make it look like a starry sky is glistening in the night.
Pasha is as horrified by what he sees as he is attracted to it. For all her clumsiness, Tamara is a pure heart deserving of a better life. What aggravates him most is the huge poster of a sexy pop star that Leonid keeps pinned up on the wall. Pasha can’t understand what this cheap manufactured mannequin has on Tamara. But hell breaks loose when he tries to replace it with Tamara’s photos.
Enter Leonid (Alexei Vesyolkin), who apparently has been hiding in the cupboard watching things go down. Suddenly the clumsily romantic evening takes on a tinge of sleaze and danger. Leonid is sarcastic and abusive. Did he set this meeting up? Was Pasha a plant to test Tamara’s loyalty? Will Pasha stand up to Leonid and rescue Tamara?
“Guppy” is several stories in one. Tamara’s tale is its focal point — the exposО of a predator-male’s cruel exploitation of a vulnerable woman. But it is also a slap at how ineffectual men, as reflected in the figure of Pasha, can really be. Hanging over it all is the image of the unreal and artificially beautiful pop star who poisons everyone’s mind. Leonid cannot see his flesh-and-blood wife before him because his mind is captive to an image of chic that society has foisted on him. Pasha tries to overturn the graven image of beauty, but Tamara herself refuses to rebel against it. There appears to be no exit.
Designer Nikolai Slobodyanik set the performance in a creepy leather interior where everything from the television and table to the closets and walls look like they are made of mud and feces. Director Yakovlev paced the action with turns of comedy, sentimentality and cruelty.
If “Guppy” does not indicate the direction that contemporary Russian drama is moving today, it provides perspective on where it has been. And it reminds us that tales of the oppressed in a deceptive and hostile world will always be topical.
