Attila VIDNIANSKY:"Once you have an order, stop philosophizing" 

The event is not ordinary. Not just another comedy staged by Kyiv's Russian Drama. Today the muse, Thalia, is a favorite with Kyiv's performers. Not because his new production is so witty and interesting (staff theater chroniclers were careful to announce that in Paris it stars the charming Jean-Paul Belmondo and we can only add that it belongs to the category of world evergreen hits and its author, Georges Feydeau, is considered a master of marvelously involved intrigue and together with Alfred Jarry one of the harbingers of the theater of the absurd).

Once again, the aura of a singular theatrical event around the premiere is created by both the box-office play and the stage director's name. Perhaps for the first time in the four years of his reign at the Imperial Russian Drama Theater, Mykhailo Reznykovych grants access to his cast to a stage director who is not only talented but also very individual and fundamentally different from the type adhered to by Mr. Reznykovych's timorous epigones or the "reliable craftsmen" previously in his good books. Perhaps the name of Atilla Vidniansky does not say much to Kyiv theatergoers (only few can still remember Camus's "Caligula" staged by Atilla as a student at the Kyiv Theatrical Institute's Student Theater), yet his presence in the modern Ukrainian theater is undeniably obvious and quite potent. This man is known not for scandals, bohemian conduct or as a participant in noisy projects; rather for his almost ascetic devotion to the dramatic art. Outwardly a good-humored and compliant portly figure, he created a Hungarian national drama group at Berehove, Transcarpathia, acting with fanatical uncompromising dedication, contrary to the local bureaucrats' complete indifference or subtle sabotage. Over the years this group has lived through misery hard to imagine even in Kyiv, with much of the cast walking out on Atilla (perhaps having no alternative under the circumstances) while the man continued his zealous creative quest. He did not even have a stage in that district center. The Culture Ministry's pompous assurances of premises and apartments for the cast remained on paper, of course, while the Hungarian side kept its word and supplied excellent lighting and audio equipment which is still collecting dust in a warehouse. Yet the troupe gathered for rehearsals and performed Shakespeare, Beckett, Boccaccio, Chekhov, Imre Madach, and T. S. Eliot, often in remote villages where people had no idea about the theater at all. Eventually his selfless devotion was rewarded, which makes one believe in the invincibility of creative passion and supreme justice. The Berehove group is known far outside Ukraine; in fact, it has a better name in Europe than here. It is very popular in Hungary and is often invited on tours (which is actually the cast's main source of livelihood, because at home their miserable wages have not been paid since April) and to appear in international drama festivals. Mr. Vidniansky receives frequent offers to stage plays abroad (for example, in Slovakia, Yugoslavia, Romania, Hungary, and Spain where he is to travel soon). He has never made a big thing of this. Instead, he has consistently and indefatigably worked to bring to life his idea of the theater, adhering not to a box-office but spiritually salutary repertoire. His productions are not smash hits but classical works, serious dramas, which makes his decision to stage Feydeau's situation comedy in Kyiv very uncharacteristic. So why this place and alliance with a drama group which Kyiv reviewers generally regard as rather scandalous?

This was my first question to Atilla Vidniansky before the premiere.

A: Frankly, I was for a long time unsure of whether to accept the proposal. There was an element of chance, of course. Back in 1993, as a student, I staged this comedy in Slovakia. It was like a pleasant retreat from serious dramaturgy and the production turned out quite cheerful and entertaining. Several years ago Russian Drama's head of literary department Boris Kurytsin asked me if I knew of a good caste play and I mentioned Feydeau's work. I wouldn't even dream of ever staging it. Now my reaction would have been different if they offered to stage Shakespeare, so when they suggested that I work on "A Flea in Your Ear" my first reaction was a resolute no and I wouldn't hear of it for a long time afterward, but they had their way in the end. Of course, as always when working with a strange cast, there were problems during rehearsals and the play was something new for the cast. But I must say that I am grateful to them all. They were friendly and tried to understand me.

Q: Did you do the casting or was it suggested by the management?

A: Of course, the initiative came from the company which is only natural, I have to say, for I regarded it as part of the contract. I have staged plays at different theaters and I think that I have adopted a Western approach to each such project: once you have an order, stop philosophizing. The company has a stable repertory, putting on, say, five plays a year. You are offered to stage a premiere, stipulating the terms, cast, and genre. They expect you to do the job on their terms, so you either agree and do it well or you say no and forget about it. But if you say yes you must do it however the customer says you should. That's what I call professionalism.

Q: Do you live up to this image as the artistic director of your own company?

A: The situation here is different, and so is the company. Unfortunately, we cannot afford to invite stage directors. I don't want to praise myself, but it would be ridiculous to hire a director whose professional level you consider inferior to your own and all the better ones cost too much. Perhaps we will do financially better than now. As it is, I propose certain young people (Kyivans included) work on a voluntary basis. We'll see, but it is true that people want to cooperate with us.

Q: Have any of your views on the theater changed over the years?

A: I would say that certain things have become more clear cut and deeper concepts have come about. Among other things, I ponder the combination of the elite and mass theater, serious content and fresh responses from the audiences. We often perform in the countryside. We may stage Chekhov's play and we see children, old women, and very rustic male types in the audience. I am tired of explaining to them that husking sunflower seeds watching the play is very improper and that people should not walk out while the performance is going on. "It's OK, I just wanted to have a smoke outside," I would be told, and the man would look at me with perfectly innocent eyes. This makes some of the cast hit the roof, yet there is something so very natural about such folkways. Most importantly, people in the audience are very sincere and respond precisely the way they feel, with childishly genuine directness. Once I believed that the theater without a plot would have the future. Now I am not so sure. My first post-secondary education is in philology, so I think I am keenly aware of the literary aspect. I can never make myself stage a play with a bad script. Take the "Flea...", it is a brilliant play in its own way. By the way, Eugene Ionesco called Georges Feydeau a source of absurd, for his characters are dominated by almost surrealistic circumstances.