Robert STURUA: Sometimes it is hard to overcome the desire for revenge
Unfortunately, the diversity of colors on tour billboards does not always correspond to their spiritual content. Hence, the arrival of the company of the respected Shota Rustaveli Theater from Tbilisi, under the invariable leadership of the theater’s main magician, Robert STURUA, is a real present for theater lovers.
In this regard, I cannot but bow low before those who organized the tour in our complicated times (particularly in financial terms). Georgia’s Ambassador in Ukraine Grigol Katamadze, as well as the embassy itself, is a long-time supporter of the Georgian theaters’ tours. Vasyl Danyliv’s foundation Light of Dreams took an active part in the project, which is a brainchild of the producing agency ArtHouse, so the residents of Kyiv will see Nekroshus’ theater after the Georgians’, and other, no less worthy theater performances. The airline MAU organized a flight to Kyiv for the actors free of charge.
This time the theater showed Kyiv’s audience Biederman and Firebugs, the “didactic play without moral,” as it was called by its author, the intellectual and paradox-loving Max Frisch. Sturua turned the attempt to understand the origins of one of the most terrible phenomena of the 20th century, fascism, into a phantasmagoric show. The performance filled with Giya Kancheli’s music, was brightly arranged by the theater artist Georgiy Aleksi-Meskhishvili, and featured the performance of the brilliant tandem of actors — Zaza Papuashvili, Nino Kasradze, David Darchiya etc. (in fact, every performer merits laudations). It prompts everyone to serious contemplation. Robert STURUA told The Day about the abovementioned performance, other projects, and life and theater.
Mr. Sturua, in all of your many years of work in the Shota Rustaveli Theater, starting from Kvarchkvara, Caucasian Chalk Circle, via the modern Wet Lilac, let alone Shakespeare’s works, the main question for you was the one regarding the relations between a person and the authorities, the power that hangs over the individual; how a personality degrades after coming to power.
You have frequently used notes of farce, but in the current production you have taken farce as the base. Is this a new step of viewing this question or a sign of total disappointment?
“Certainly, there is disappointment. But it is not strong enough to make me believe that all of this is temporary. Thomas Jefferson said quite terrifying words about how freedom is a tree which should be watered with blood. Maybe, we have to go through much suffering. If you look only at the history of dramaturgy you will see that the topic of power and the individual is the leading one, starting from Greeks to Shakespeare to Moliere to contemporary playwrights. The latter ‘specialized’ in this topic, because the 20th century was quite cruel in this sense. A young girl Antigone fights against the tyrant to make him fulfill the human duty — bury the corps of her brother who was killed at his order — this story, in my opinion, is completely focused on the problem ‘power-individual.’
“I would not say as well that only I am focused on this topic. But the thing is that we have step by step begun to view this problem through the prism of irony, as we feel that we have not found a way to combat this evil. This is almost a Hamlet problem. Man understands that if he does not kill, he becomes the carrier of the evil, and then will remain in very complicated, paradoxical condition. For me this is a very important topic because I came to theater after our country had endured a terrible bloody way, and it is in my genes from the primordial times to fight this. Today, as before, I cannot stand violence, injustice, when one treats people like cattle, without asking anyone’s opinion, considering oneself the bearer of the only truth of this world. So, whether I like it or not, this is my topic.”
But “people” is such a general notion, it is made by men in the street who think little of global problems of good and evil. Their mere concern is how to protect themselves, their family, and survive in certain situation. However, by this they support the power in its worst manifestation. Why is this so?
“You know, in Shakespeare’s Richard III there are three characters, three townsmen, discussing a problem: Who is going to be the king? Richard or someone else. I have deleted this scene from the production, but I left the characters. And in moments of tension they come either with some bags, or tools to work the land, because they were villagers. And when they came, people turned their eyes to them. You know, the world of power is so estranged from the people’s life that the people may not know who is fighting and for what power, they do not care. I will never forget April 9, 1989, we went on tour to Bulgaria and there learned about the events in Georgia. My wife and I came back to Georgia and saw tanks in the streets, soldiers, and very excited people. I ran to my house, there is a small registration office nearby, and I saw about 20 cars and a newly-wed couple leaving the registration office. I thought, ‘Is it time to marry, create a family.’ And suddenly I heard my wife saying: ‘Robert, look, everything is all right: if love proceeds, life goes on as well.’ In Otar Iosseliani’s film Pastorale there is a scene: a quartet rehearses in a village, they go, drink lemonade and throw away the bottle. A peasant comes, takes this bottle and keeps it. He is not a present-day tramp who picks up tare on the stadium to sell it. He will need this bottle in his everyday biological life, unlike those people playing Beethoven and Bach’s works. They remain in a totally different dimension.”
It was probably after The Twelfth Night that you started to regularly turn to biblical motifs, to follow the Bible. You speak about the eternal biblical topics: about love to the world, forgiveness etc. The new production of Shakespeare’s The Tempest, an absolute point in his dramaturgy, which you staged in the EtCetera Theater, tells about the ability to forgive. This question troubles me a lot, as I am a sinful person, I cannot forgive. Possibly, many people cannot either. Does a person have to become a magician to comprehend all the difficulties of the world to acquire this gift, or it can be done in some other way?
“Prospero gets ready for an ultimate revenge. No doubt about this. Everything comes to the point when a wave of a hand, and they all will be hanged. At this point some transformation should occur. For example, in the Bible, Saul turns into Paul. He loses his sight, but enlightenment comes with the recovery of sight. It’s like a worm turning into a butterfly — a metamorphosis, one of the greatest miracles, when a beautiful insect, a beautiful creature, suddenly comes out of the cocoon.”
But there may be reverse transformations.
“It happens, but in Shakespeare’s work the hero is on the edge. He wants revenge, but at the same time he wants to show mercy, to forgive. In my production he is heading categorically to revenge, but he stops at the very last moment. This is the best scene of Aleksandr Kaliagin, who plays Prospero. When I watched the play I wanted something to happen at the end, some blast, another blast, but I could not do this, I was extremely exhausted by this play, it is of inhuman complexity. I did not have enough spirit to invent one more move. I am not able to forgive either, though basically my profession urges me to do so, because you won’t forgive everything that happens in theater, all things I suffer from actors if I take them as a betrayal. They say that when Konstantin Mardzhanov grew old, they called him and said that in Gori, where their theater went on tour, they were holding a gathering to turn him out of the theater. The poor old man got on the car, went to Gori. As he entered the theater, a gathering indeed was taking place there. Veriko Andjaparidze, a student of his, was delivering speech and said awful words about how he was a senile person, and so on, and so on. They did not notice him enter. Suddenly, he pushed himself forward and without getting on stage, said, ‘Give me back my Judith, give me back my Ophelia.’ I was impressed by this story. It seems that I have gotten accustomed to theatric forgiveness, but sometimes it is hard to overcome the desire to take revenge.”
In your opinion, is the desire to betray a part of man’s nature since primordial times?
“No, I think that man has an inborn desire to be someone, I mean, to cover the way to his dreams, his intentions; to force his way, if he has not happened to realize himself — that is why betrayals take place. Not because people are traitors by nature, but because they are actors. An actor cannot choose what he wants to play; he sits and waits until they give him the role of Hamlet. Years pass, and he cannot play Hamlet anymore, so he thinks about Macbeth, then Othello, then King Lyre, and his life passes. They study together at the institute, and some youngster with a director’s diploma, decides his fate. It is not his fault, and his actions should not be viewed as betrayal. It’s just that an actor’s profession is a specific one; it is a profession of very courageous people. A person without courage cannot exist there.”
I would like to speak about the wonderful triumvirate: director-composer-artist — Robert Sturua, Giya Kancheli, Georgi Aleksi-Meskhishvili. It has existed for many years and is incredibly fecund for productions in the Rustaveli Theater, those in Moscow’s theaters, productions in Europe, and opera performances. Your constant companion Kancheli, when I spoke with him, said that “whatever I do and whatever mood I am in, when Robert calls me to work, I will work with him.” He said another important thing: “You know, I began to love silence, and for people to hear you, the music should be quiet as well. May the audience make an effort to hear you, i.e., understand.” Do you share this opinion?
“On October 25 we celebrated his birthday in Tbilisi. He played Dixe in the first part — this is a new creation of his, and in the second part we and our actors played Styx. He created a kind of requiem dedicated to his friends, family, his parents. He mentions all of their names there. I took this job without his knowledge, and tried to make a performance. Music without text — I might call this a form of meditation. In my opinion, Giya wrote his credo in this work about silence. It is more complicated for me to speak about this. A word, plot, an action we can do without, but in this production that is what I tried. It is absolutely non-verbal, it is not a pantomime, or ballet, people are moving (there are 17 of them), in such a state that the audience gives in to their magic impact. For five minutes at the beginning they are moving chairs, this was a ‘sound of chairs.’ We managed to produce a dazzling sound, quite unexpectedly. It is part of the music in this performance. I agree with such a concept to some extent. Recently I have read an article on the Internet, where a composer says that it is not clever to compose music these days, there should be some new methods, he spoke about influencing the audience in some magic way, with non-standard methods. But there are no less and no more than seven notes. You will create music once you master them.”
The past 20 years have brought a new level of complexity into our lives. How important is theater in Georgia? Does the government support you?
“I think all the former republics of the empire, no matter how different their development is, are following the same track. Naturally, everything depends on a nation’s character, its wealth, the number of people living in it. Georgia is a small country which, it seems to me, has always been attracted to arts. Our people have always rejoiced at life, even in hard times. So they have had an easier time in dealing with this poverty than, let’s say, other republics. I thought there would be a catastrophe, but apparently the genetics won: Georgia has lived in poverty for 600 years.”
What about Ukraine? For it has been close to you since your youth?
“Of course, I am following the Ukrainian events, but what I will say does not only concern your country. Strange things are taking place: people start to change abruptly after they get some position. For money and power are more important for such people than even sex.”
Is there a way out? Are we facing infertility?
“Perhaps. We, who lived in Soviet times, want to get rid of this, but we have this virus, and it is hard to get rid of it. I think it is unpredictable, like theater. And I think, this refers to everyone, every person has some hidden qualities that they can show — sometimes in a horrible way. Unfortunately, what is being done by individuals is ascribed to the entire nation afterwards. When I staged The Merchant of Venice in Kaliagin’s theater I asked the literary department to find the expressions of great personalities about other nations. And I published all these expressions in the program. And there was Dovlatov’s recollection of his mother. She was an Armenian, but she hated Georgians, because Stalin was a Georgian. And now, it seems to me, this seed of Stalin and Beria, which has not been destroyed, is a dragon. Do you remember Evgeny Shvarts’ words? The dragon is dead, but he continues to live in people who survived: the mayor, his son, and so on. It seems to me that one thing remains for us: waiting for a miracle.”
Shakespeare made a point with his The Tempest. What are you going to do next? It is too early to make a point.
“No, I don’t want to do that. After the concert Giya said, ‘I have been working in this theater for 50 years, and in these 50 years the theater has taught me a lot. I will be happy to stage something new here.’ Now about The Tempest. Shakespeare has decoded everything in his story about man. He, himself, having achieved theatric knowledge, the peak of mastery, suddenly left the theater and went to his native backwoods to take up business. He was quite a wealthy man; he left because he understood that he can change nothing with his plays. He did not know what will happen in 100, or 400 years. He was quite a sober man. In spite of the romantic view of the world at times, he was an absolutely sober and cynical man. He understood that everything ended for him. He said through Prospero’s mouth that he forgives everybody not because they are not guilty, but because what he was doing was stupidity. Everything is nonsense, whereas you have to live in the community of human beings. I have written something for myself and thought that it would improve something — it won’t. I’m leaving.”
Your words are terrifying.
“I am speaking about Shakespeare now. Unfortunately, at the moment I am at the crossroads. By the way I like the fact that I fell ill recently and spent some time in the hospital, contemplating and reading. And for some reason I decided to turn to Aristophanes. Not his dramas, but rather comedies. For the first time I noticed that tragedy was at the beginning, and then, as the following stage of the development of culture, civilization, comedy emerged. It is a more complicated attitude to life, where man can laugh, mock, and be honest with himself. It turned out that these plays remain actual, even extremely so. So I am going to stage Aristophanes’ works in my theater. An in January at the invitation of Greeks, I will stage The Taming of the Shrew. Sometimes I think, if I have staged Shakespeare’s 20 works, maybe I should stage all of them. And I talked about Lesia Ukrainka with Bohdan Stupka.”
