“Vanya and Sonya and Masha and the Nail” at the Satyricon theater. "Vanya and Sonya and Masha and the Nail" at the Satyricon Theater People's Artist of Russia Lika Nifontova in the role of Masha

It is no coincidence that the characters in the American play are named after Chekhov - their parents were fans of Chekhov, played in amateur theater, their own children were named Vanya and Masha, adopted daughter Sonya. Masha became an actress, went to Hollywood, her personal life did not work out (she was married five times and divorced again), her stage performance was even worse (but she became famous for her participation in a serial erotic thriller, playing a nymphomaniac killer). While Masha earned money to maintain the house, Sonya and Vanya looked after their elderly father and mother for fifteen years, when Chekhov lovers finally became helpless senile. Their parents died and Sonya and Vanya found themselves alone in the house. Suddenly Masha, who unexpectedly came to visit with a young lover named Gvozd, declares that she intends to sell the estate.

“Russian Varenie” by Ulitskaya, “After the Curtain” by Brian Friel... - there are quite a few plays that are a mix of textbook Chekhov motifs, and they are in full swing on stages, including Moscow. “Vanya and Sonya...” is probably not the worst of these works (if compared with Ulitskaya, it’s certainly not the worst). At the moments when Chekhov is parodied by the author, the straightforwardness of the direction and the bold acting colors turn out to be appropriate and give the desired effect. Unfortunately, the playwright’s plan clearly does not boil down to a parody play with the classic.

According to the plot, Masha, who is planning to sell the family nest with a “cherry orchard” (out of ten or eleven trees, but still a “garden”), is jealous of Nina, who has come to stay with her neighbors, another victim of the American “Czekhovamania”. Nina was named, accordingly, in honor of the heroine of “The Seagull”, and like a seagull, she is drawn to the artistic environment, she herself dreams of a career, of fame. Nail immediately takes her into account, not embarrassed by Masha’s presence - then, however, it turns out that he also has an affair with Masha’s assistant, who took the initiative to sell the house, but the matter is young - the guy is enough for both Nina and Masha with half and half assistant. Nina, on the other hand, becomes interested in Vanya, who is concerned about the problem of climate change and, in between, is composing a modern version of Treplev’s play about the molecule heroine. Sonya suffers from loneliness, but thanks to her participation in a costume party, where Masha dragged everyone, she seems to meet the man of her dreams, although before that she only shouted “I’m a wild turkey!” Yes, she was waiting for a “blue heron” on the pond. Briefly speaking, The Cherry Orchard is not for sale, Vanya is doing well with the play and with Nina, Sonya will get married, Masha, after five divorces, will calm down and focus on creativity, everyone will work, work and rest, rest, what will happen to Gvozd is least clear, but one must assume, and the young man will not be lost.

Among other things, the housekeeper, Cassandra, who utters improvised prophecies with clumsy hexameter and not unsuccessfully indulges in voodoo rituals, is present in the house, and one might say that she is in charge. In the cast that I saw, Cassandra is played by Elizabeth Martinez Cardenas - the role suits her very well, she is bright, energetic, colorful ethnic outfits fit her perfectly, but to tell the truth, I would like to see the actress in a slightly different, less familiar role. I was really looking forward to the fresh work of Natalya Vdovina, whom I remember from “The Magnificent Cuckold” by Fomenko, “Hedda Gabler” by Chusova, “Richard the Third” by Butusov - she hasn’t had a premiere in “Satyricon” for a long time, here she got the role of Masha, which seemed to be winning, but the image of Masha turned out to be devoid of volume and internal content even at the modest level that the play is capable of offering. For that matter, Vanya and Sonya - Denis Sukhanov and in my composition Elena Butenko-Raikina - turned out to be more meaningful, although they did not spare too much “oil” paints on them. Nikita Smolyaninov is organic in the role of Nail, plastic, eccentric, charm young man- everything is with him, and there are no questions about why this stupid impudent man enjoys such success (and Gvozd also willingly undresses in the presence of Vanya, whom everyone by default considers a homosexual, although he himself is mature years out of inertia he believes otherwise) - but Nail’s line is the worst written in the play, it is frankly illogical. Nina is inarticulate, and the least one can blame for this is any of the performers (Alena Razzhivina in line with Sofia Shcherbakova).

In general, there seems to be nothing to reproach the performers for, and Raikin’s direction combines irony with seriousness in seemingly “correct” proportions. But at some point, following the playwright, humor also refuses to the director - then the hysterical monologue of “Uncle Vanya” about how before, they say, people licked stamps with their tongues, sealed envelopes and were happy together, and now they even watch stupid shows on TV separately , turns out to be completely intolerable, incompatible with life. But he, and the play as a whole, allows anyone to feel like an expert on Chekhov, without overstraining either the intellect or memory: they will tell those who forget, and inform those who do not know. Personally, I’m not very happy with such a counterfeit “Czech” in an entrepreneurial wrapper; it would be more honest to take a simple sitcom, but free from pseudo-intellectual pretensions, and play it simply, from the heart (as happened before in “Satyricon”); for depth, for Chekhov's complexity, meaningfulness, it is better to turn to Chekhov directly - and no Nails. Well, what finished me off was Vanya’s passage about how “my father dreamed of watching “The Seagull” in Russia, but never decided to go, he was afraid that he would be considered a supporter of the Soviets - the Russians were blamed for all the troubles of America, perhaps the Russians blamed America for everything, but idiots like us can’t live in Chekhov’s country” - I don’t know how much of this is from Christian Durand and how much from the translator Mikhail Mishin, but attempts at “Chekhov’s” subtext and double bottom turn out to be an embarrassment one way or another.

American play. The names in its title are Russian - parents in the American outback, where there are no taxis, named their children after Chekhov.
Anyone who knows the works of the author well, whose bust is placed on the cabinet, recognizes whole line slightly distorted quotes and situations.

Here, for example, is the scene where the characters in the play play the continuation of Kostya Treplev’s play, completed by Vanya (Uncle Vanya) - a direct, albeit simplified, quote from Butusov’s “The Seagull”, which is also shown here in Satyricon.

In general, I love it when they play about theater in the theater and it turns out to be a kind of theater squared. Here it was interesting (although Butusov’s is, of course, much more interesting).
True, Yuri Nikolaevich, building a “zero row” of heroes, joins them to the Satyricon hall and unites the hall in the hall and the hall on the stage in adoration of the theater and (partly) in bewilderment about its complexity... But in Van and Gvozda the audience in the audience they also poked their noses: they say, whoever is distracted from the action by gadgets is a fool.

You know, throughout the first half of the performance I could not get rid of the impression that I was watching a fragment of a play staged amateur theater, existing in this very American outback. Moreover, we were told about these very amateur performances at the very beginning: the parents-teachers were not just theoretical fans of the Russian playwright, but also played on the amateur stage.
In the finale, when everyone turned their backs to the audience and there, at the back, there was a ramp - the actors were bowing towards it (by the way, these bows “back” are again a distorted quote from “The Seagull”), I realized that, in general, right: we were shown not the story of the life of Van, Sonya, etc., but the story of their lives, shown in the theater. That is, the showing of Uncle Divan’s play was not a theater in a square, but a theater in a cube: we watched how the actors performed a performance, within the framework of which another performance was played.

True, in this theater, where all the actors slightly overact, there are moments of REAL LIFE that are not included in the action.
This is when, towards the end, Uncle Vanya (Denis Sukhanov) bursts into a scream of a huge passionate monologue.
And I cried. Because it was a cry about Vanya’s life... and my life... and the lives of those who are many years old - and we all remember how they lick stamps with their tongues before sticking them on a letter... and we remember the fairy tales of Aunt Valya Leontyeva... and games in Moscow courtyards with calling from mother’s balcony... We remember this - and we understand that no matter how our life is lived: varied and tasteful or boring, provincial... “life is gone” - all the same, the waves of the ocean will forever erase its traces on...
And there will be nothing left of us - which those who are young and who think that personal existence is endless are not yet aware of it...
You know, I’ll insert here – in small print – about this very remembered Island of Truth, described in the “Suer-Vier” parchment by Yuri Koval. Since I remembered him.

In general, this is how we live. Forgetting that in our end there will be no WORD. And no one will remember how you licked stamps tongue. And we will leave forever, they will forget us, they will forget our faces, voices and how many of us there were...
If only the closest ones... Yes, an old house with a leaking roof, which, of course, has both soul and memory...

And the performance...
Good performance. It will be even better when the main action is played and polished...
And it’s good that the unimaginable ups and downs of life, played by Denis Sukhanov, will never go away from him.

Birches, pines, grass and magical music of birds. The month of May. Good, dear, warm sun warms the clearings in the dense forest. Somewhere nearby a brook is babbling. Bees rustle gently on the flowers of the golden coltsfoot, on the open flowers of dandelions and lungworts. Enchanting aromas fill the transparent, ghostly, impalpable mysterious air with an all-loving, affectionate fairy tale. Ants' paws scratch under the bark of an ancient oak tree that was numb a hundred years ago, deserted.
Hut...

A former fire is smoldering. A young family lives here.
Family – Vanya and Masha.
- The samovar boiled. Vanya, little ray, dear... I miss you. Shall we drink tea?
Today she was wearing a dress. Long White dress V green pea hid her magnificent slender legs. To the waist, light brown, soft hair covered the entire back. And it was as if they were glowing, sparkling, shining. They played with shadows, and the shadows hid in sacred, naively cherished places. The belt carefully emphasized the fragile waist. Belt... Made of some unprecedented, light, incredibly airy material. Thin lips - blue eyes, deep as the ocean, as if there was a door in them, and behind it a labyrinth. Next are the stars and the Sky. Endless lunar tai-na. The secret is visible only to those who are “still.”
Who is “yet” is unknown.
Wooden baubles... On the chest, on the arms and on the velvet neck.
Musical fingers.
Girl.
Barefoot on innocent fluffy grass.
“Sunny... Darling,” Vanya answered her.
He smiled playfully.
He was wearing jeans and a black shirt for graduation. Short white hair. A little taller than her. Clean shaven and clean. Like the wind - free and simple. Like a tall bird. Rock crystal. Having nothing here except dreams and warmth coming straight from the heart. He was a heart! Dream! Peace and quiet. Night is confidence in the future.
Home was waiting for them. A bench, a table, a bed, a wardrobe and two simple chairs. A huge samovar, like something out of grandfather’s or great-grandfather’s fairy tales, a thick candle stub, an old-fashioned Russian stove - in a natural quarter of the living space.
There are doormats for walking. Neat, soft, warm, very cozy. An ancient, glorious rug under the table.
Women's corner... Not visible at all. I mean, Masha, off to the kitchen.
A great variety of different herbs in the form of brooms on the ceiling. Smell: melted wax, St. John's wort and oregano. And linden honey.
Wooden mugs, spoons, saucers. Cutting – printed fresh frames. Homemade buns. Yes. So warm and light.
- That’s good, Mashenka!
- I tried, my love.
- Dear...
- Thank you.
- Darling. Good. The most tender girl in the world. My. - Said the forest outside the window.
We smiled.
“He hears everything, the prankster,” Vanya whispered, looking into the taiga through the glass.
- He hears. He sees. And he knows. Our. Father - Forest. – Masha explained shyly.
She looked into Ivan's eyes.
“I love you, baby,” the endless lunar secret conveyed to the door, through the Sky and Stars, through the entire labyrinth. – I love you, baby, do you hear?
- Yes, of course, I hear, my dear. The only one. There is nothing but us. Me and you. You are inside me. Everything is inside. Darling, I am you. I don't need to know the words. To hear you.
- My kitten! Kitten... Come to me?
- Can I hold my hands?
- Paw... Paw... Masha.
- Yeah.
After breakfast, Vanya and Masha usually went for a swim. Here in the forest there was a lake. In May, when the water in the rivers was still very cold, the lake warmed up in the sun literally instantly. The water in Vanya and Masha's lake was amazing. Clean. Crystal clear. Alive. And not at all cold. If only slightly... Refreshing... Cheerful... And tender. Like dew in the morning. Or like blind rain.
To the very bottom in the middle, Vanya, no matter how hard he tried, could not dive to the bottom. Although he dived excellently, inferior in this type of games - entertainment, probably, only to mermaids.
Along the perimeter, the lake was sheltered from the outside world by thick willow. Such a dense - dense, impenetrable, chic, reliable wall. Which in itself is already magnificent and fabulous, unrealistic - beautiful!
They called this whole idyll the Sea.
This was their personal Sea.
They loved Him very much.
First, the surface of the water was disturbed by the Machine's leg. Circles... The water striders hid in the area of ​​water lilies.
- It's ticklish, my love! – The girl exclaimed.
“Darling, don’t catch a cold,” Ivan said jokingly.
- I want it as always! Help me undress, dear.
Naked, she sank to the waist, giggled loudly, sighed with all her trembling, mature, magical breasts and smoothly, silently, like a wild nymph from fairy tales, dived. Disappeared in the arms of the hospitable Sea.
“Yes... This will take a long time,” thought Ivan.
And he slid after her, without undressing at all. In a shirt and jeans. Hoping to catch his wife there, in the depths. Under the water. Which, naturally, was not easy.
That's how they played.
The man always caught what was his forever. The woman really wanted to be caught.
The sea did not live for Vanya and Masha. Desires, even the most incredible and secret ones, were always fulfilled here for them.
Time has passed. And the Sea has already calmed down. And the water-mers left their hiding places, ran along the mirror, along the familiar surface, the glass of an eternally calm, quiet, peaceful womb. Magic water.
Vanya and Mashenka surfaced near the shore. Smooth and quiet. Without disturbing the peace of nature. Like a single living organism. In a hot sweet hug and a kiss. Soul! One heart for all.
“I breathe you, honey,” she said.
- I am breathing!
- Otherwise... There is no point in breathing.
- Is this happiness?
- No. Life. And there is simply no other.
- Simply no. And it won't.
- Always.
- Forever. Her name is... Love!
Curly acacia branches hung above them as they basked in the early morning sun after their swim. The golden lawn hid their elusive caresses from a flock of cocky little birds, which briskly circled, frolicked, and rang over Vanya and Masha, burning with envy and curiosity.
The strawberries are ripe. Lilies of the valley and rosebuds began to fall. The lovers reveled in the gifts of nature. Father Les himself laughed joyfully as he watched this. Father was pleased. And all His children, of course, knew... About Father’s disposition... Toward people.
- It was great, Luchik! It’s time,” she whispered, rising from the trampled grass.
- There's a whole day ahead. WITH Good morning, dear!
The path led through a shaggy dark spruce forest, ferns and prickly rose hips grew everywhere. It was very easy for the feet to step softly, the cold ground was reliably hidden by dry pine needles.
“I love this place,” Masha said to Ivan. -Can you hear the air ringing here? Like thousands of little joyful bells - bells, seemingly everywhere. Oh, what a special air here! Transparent. It seems to me that I can see right through the entire forest. And you. And myself. And one more thing... Something... Yes. Yes, the same heart that belongs to us. One heart for all!
He led her by the hand like a child.
- You are beautiful, Mashenka. You are everything! The rest lives only to make you happy. Chit. He has nothing left to live for.
A small animal ran across the path. She quickly climbed up onto the Christmas tree and positioned herself there, on a thick curved branch. Not high. Right at human eye level. And she clapped her paws, as if greeting old acquaintances.
- Lyalka! Lyalka! Look, Vanya - Lyalka,” Masha exclaimed cheerfully.
- Our squirrel, Sunny, Mashenka... As if she was waiting. Oh, what a sweetheart!
- And I didn’t just wait. I see... I missed you! Baby. Let's come over?
“I even have something for her,” the husband said mysteriously.
He winked and reached into his jeans pocket.
- Yes, these are nuts! Hazelnuts, from last fall. Vanechka, darling, what are you like... Wonderful! I brought it especially for her. He didn't even say anything to me. My little one.
Barely touching, playfully, almost imperceptibly, the girl kissed him right on the lips, stroked his head and powerful shoulders, and lowered her eyes in shame.
- We just got wet. “A little,” the man muttered with annoyance.
- They became softer, dear. Lyalya will definitely like it. Well…
She took a few things from Ivan’s palm, went to the trunk of the tree, and handed the gift to the animal. The squirrel instantly perked up, wagged its tail, puffed up its nose, licked Machine’s hand, and sat down on a branch to eat. Young hostess. Red-haired naughty girl.
“Lyalka... Lyalechka... La-la,” Mashenka whispered, boldly playing with her thin finger with the squirrel’s ears, tail and wet nose.
Vanya stroked his wife on the back, smiling widely. So cute!
- You know, once upon a time, a long time ago, back in past life, before the forest, I thought that all the squirrels in the world live only in cages. The wheels are spinning all the time. Funny? – Mashenka asked Vanya.
- While you were feeding her, I was practically dry. Do you want a nut? I still have a little bit left.
- Nyuyu... Little hare, you didn’t answer me.
- Funny? No, baby. This... This is sad. Squirrels... Look at them, baby. Is it possible to put them... In a cage? Even thinking about this and that... It’s somehow not good.
- Smile, my dear. Sorry. I probably hurt you. You. Honey, I didn't mean to.
- Nut...
- Thank you! Mmm... How delicious! Tell me, I look like a squirrel, right?
- White... Mashenka... You are my best squirrel. Do you hear? Come here baby!
- Kiss me, sweetie? Want you. You…
It was a little cooler in the spruce forest than in the village by the Sea. There were almost no birds here. Only somewhere in the wilderness a woodpecker was chattering. The luminary hid. Quiet. Peace.
Like a hut...
...Four windows, a door, a threshold, a stove, smoke.
Peace - Motherland.
Behind the spruce forest there was an uneven, deep, almost impassable ravine. That ravine was inhabited by a huge number of owls. And that's why Vanya called it hot spot"Owl Ravine". That's how the name came into use. In the fall, this “Owl Ravine” was rich in honey mushrooms. Honey mushrooms grew everywhere here. Hemp, smooth, with thick legs, clean. They covered the trees and the ground, snags, logs, and even fallen dead branches. There was no need to look for them. Walk with a stick. Move the leaves apart. The harvest was great every year. Mushrooms were always collected here in bags.
In the spring, just in May, “Owl Ravine” turned into a real marvelous kingdom of morels. Va-nya and Mashenka loved to go mushroom hunting.
As everyone knows, owls sleep during the day. It was rude to unceremoniously wake up night workers.
“We will go there quietly, like shadows,” Vanya whispered to his beloved.
- How interesting... How are the shadows? It's funny.
- We still don’t have a basket or a bag. We'll just look at them. Fine?
- For morels? – The wife was surprised.
- How can we pass by? You should at least say hello. We are friends with them!
- Vanya, Vanechka! You're like a kid. Darling. Di-tenk at all. You will also say: “friends.” I agree. Of course, let's go.
- Well, fine. My. My “grown up” girl.
- Nyuyu. I'm not an adult, Vanya! Small... Defenseless... Fragile... I am your baby! Forgot?
- Paw, we’re already close. We are shadows. Let's be quiet.
- Ok, I'm quiet. I’m silent, Vanechka. Quieter than grass.
- Bunny, follow step by step.
- Yes Yes Yes…
It is likely that Owl Gully was once a river. The bed of an ancient taiga river. Time has changed his appearance. But the soul remained imperishable. The soul of a once pure, life-giving, joyful reservoir. Despite the fact that at first glance, this place seemed harsh, treacherous, gloomy and unfriendly, maybe even nightmarish... “Owl Gully” was calm, cozy and kind. Sometimes it happens. When something menacing, terribly alarming suddenly turns into a peaceful children's fairy tale. Owl Gully was magical. Owl Gully was alive. And Mashenka and Va-nya, of course, knew about this.
Descending into its impassable wilderness was not an easy task.
Everywhere, like frozen snakes, straight from the ground, the roots of deceased trees stuck out. Dark Dungeon. Dampness and cobwebs. Gray moss with mold. Similar to ugly, predatory monsters, driftwood. Prickly bushes, traces of windbreaks, dust underfoot, paths...
...How strange - the paths. Whose... Whose?
Is it really some kind of secret? Again. How nice it is to be “on topic” when there is no topic.
Hello, experienced world!
We reached the very bottom of the inverted riverbed. We sat down on a log. So they hid.
“Do you hear, Vanya,” the girl whispered in her lover’s ear, “there are no mosquitoes here at all.” Kind of weird. Forest and damp, but no mosquitoes. Why?
“It’s not a good, desperate sign, my dear girl,” Ivan answered reluctantly, even with some apprehension. “The old people said: “If there are no mosquitoes, it means it’s a bad place,” baby.” Just don’t be scared, dear. Perhaps the pressure here is not suitable for them. Although…
- What though, my dear?
- There may still be gas. And rays. Radiation can. But don't let that bother you. For us... For us Father Forest! We are here, baby... We are ours!
- AAAA, got it! And yet, sad as it may seem, it’s so beautiful here! Ivanushka, it’s so beautiful here!
- Darling, yes. This is your own world. Like nothing on earth. Your ancient experienced world.
- The world of mushrooms?
- Something like that. All myceliums are alive. Everyone is smart. They have soul. And mushrooms are only what is outside. Look how many there are!
At that very moment, the girl was surprised to notice how many morels surrounded them on all sides. Big, small, beautiful and unprepossessing... Proud, weighty, strong, persistent and deprived. Morels - parents and their children. Grandchildren and elders. The whole state! Countless hordes! Blitz!
- Wow! – Masha exclaimed in delight.
- Hush, hush, beauty. The owls are sleeping. Do you remember? Shhh...
- Yes, yes... I remember, Vanechka. I remember, my dear. I'm silent. Still, how many of them are here! This is necessary!
Ivan laughed into his palm.
The huge bird shook itself off the gnarled birch tree. The dry leaves rustled from an unexpected draft. A draft shook the weightless girl’s dress. Masha’s cheeks were covered with a shy blush. The vow of silence was disobediently broken.
- Why are you laughing? It's awkward,” she said. - After all, they see everything.
- They see and hear everything, dear. You are the sweetest, gentle, warm sun. Mashenka. The star is clear. My dream. My miracles.
- Fool. I miss you.
- Very?
- Funny.
- Oh, you cat! What about mushrooms?
- Yes, mushrooms. How should we deal with them?
- Maybe it’s like this: “Our fairy tale will make them a little warmer?”
- My good. Darling. I'm here!
- Masha... Mashenka... Ma-sha!!!
Oddly enough, but getting out of the dungeon - the ravine - turned out to be much easier than going down into it. There was light above, and darkness below, it is always easier to find light, probably - this is the law. In addition, all the driftwood - ugly predatory monsters, and the dust underfoot, and even traces of windbreaks, suddenly became somehow close, incredibly familiar, warm, like family. The ravine became simple, defenseless and trembling. Like everything around. Magic. A feeling of incredible freedom and lightness. Like a flight across the expanses of universal love.
Behind the Owl Ravine, the Seventh Glade was waiting for Masha and Vanya. Wonderful, magnificent, very a nice place. Why Vanya called that clearing “Seventh” no one knows. Ivan gave names to all places in the protected forest. Masha liked it. That made her feel comfortable. A game. Like, in fact, this whole life.
Coming out of the dark into the bright sunlight, they suddenly saw something...
...Like a gnome, only a mushroom... Yes, a morel. The height of a human elbow. He suddenly jumped out along the treasured path from the ravine, left something there... And then disappeared.
Vanya and Mashenka looked at each other and... Instantly, yes.
In front of them stood a basket and a birch bark bag. A handbag and basket overflowing with beautiful, fresh, clean, neatly chopped mushrooms.
So whose paths were these!
Is there a theme now?
With thanks. Low bow to you. I love you, my friend. My friend – “Owl Gully”.
At this magical time of year, “Sedmaya Polyana” was fragrant. The clearing was quite spacious, like a wild field. Her herbs were worried. Every millimeter of it bloomed. And every millimeter of it, every crest of the wave brought joy to people. The variety of colors of the place aroused delight, kindled fun and free, the most free, intimate, one might even say wild thoughts and thoughts.
There, in the chest, in its hidden nooks, a fire flared up. The flame burned from the inside, burst out, sparkled with smiles, sweet gestures, a touch of the magic of pure natural, absolutely natural charms.
It was nature itself.
- Dear Mashenka! If the world were younger, it would be like in a dream. Yes, dear? – Vanya asked in a trembling voice, breathing in the clearing with his immense soul.
- Vanechka! My ray of sunshine! The world is already very young. After all, we are the youth of the world. You and me. What happens next. The world is a baby. He is in us.
- Oh, my love! As you said!!! You are a fragile, tender, weak, defenseless girl. Mashenka... Forget-me-not petal. And... You are wisdom itself. Probably, wisdom cannot be strong and strong. There is emptiness in her. Or is there no emptiness?
- Emptiness is a luxury for the world. The world is modest, Ivanushka. Modest and simple. Like love.
- Like my dew... On your eyes, bunny.
- Like flowers on my head. Like a wreath. What a crown! If you collected them.
- And the soul is “everything” and “nothing.” Like a heart. One for two.
- We are both the world and the universe. Everything is within us. There is nothing more. And you shouldn't look.
- Wisdom is when a forget-me-not petal stronger than war!
- War? War... What is this, Vanya?
- This is what is beyond wisdom, honey. This is not a threat to you.
- How funny, my love.
- Smile, my dear. Happiness. You are happiness! I'm near. I will be watching.
- And desire, and regret, and burn. Your happiness, Iva-nushka. Know: without you he does not exist.
- Cat…
- Yes.
- Then kitty, Masha!
- The only one! The cat just wants you to pet her.
- Indeed, dear... Modest. And simple.
- No emptiness.
- Everything is full of meaning.
- There is no such thing as nonsense.
Butterflies and dragonflies flew carelessly over the clearing. A vigilant fawn kite soared high in the sky. Small mice and gophers were hiding in the grasses, only occasionally emerging from their holes, tired from dozing and a long, languid, boring day. The day was heading towards lunch. Mashenka and Vanya were already returning home.
“There will be soup, salad and a festive lush mushroom pie with tea,” she announced. – Jam – strawberries with ice. What do you think?
- Mmm, so great, honey! - The man exclaimed.
And he didn’t even bother to clarify...
For what reason, exactly...
Holiday?..
The holiday has always been here.
There are reasons why it becomes painful to look into the past. Heaven hears our blind vibrations only when there is a conductor. The guide for the blind is invisible. We feel it only when the blind person himself needs it. Yama is a mountain inside out. Fall - take off.
Do we really know about something that doesn’t exist?
What will happen to you when our sadness turns into October rain?
Will there be jazz?
Or will the rain kill again... Electric snow?
Maybe we are no longer there?
Every day we draw abstractions of strange pictures in unknown dreams. In waking dreams. And no one will save you. He won't come to pray for us.
Except for the prodigal soul.
This soul is probably already here. There is no other way. I just want to live.
In the evening, the goats returned from the local pasture. Vanya and Mashenka called them smoothly - Masyanki. Masyanki came as always, with milk.
The black cat Bagheera was huddled secluded on the stove. The ginger cat Huguenot was already sleeping on the carpet under the table. The huge Rottweiler Klykan was still grumbling something in his booth. But his roar was not at all menacing. Satisfied and sweet. So Fang lulled and killed the chickens that they could not calm down in the dilapidated closet. The bees hid in the hives.
Happy dark!
Everyone...
Everyone.

Full version of the novel:

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Premiere theater

The Satyricon Theater presented the premiere of the play based on the play by the famous contemporary American playwright Christopher Durang "Vanya and Sonya and Masha and the Nail" staged artistic director Theater of Konstantin Raikin. Tells Roman Dolzhansky.

Heroes Chekhov's plays no one is given peace. Not only for actors and directors who tirelessly take on Chekhov’s texts—this is easy to explain—but also for playwrights. From remakes, sequels and all kinds of fantasies on the themes of textbook plays, one can compose an impressive anthology - and it is not only Russian-language authors who undertake to invent the fate of Anton Pavlovich’s characters, move the heroes of one play into another, combine characters this way and that. And all sorts of references and reminiscences, open and hidden quotations are absolutely endless: the Russian writer “irradiated” the world theater so much that it is impossible to get out of its force field.

American playwright Christopher Durang composed a play about a modern American family, the situation in which seems to confirm the well-known belief that the name determines fate. Once upon a time, the parents of the heroes, passionate about theater in general and Chekhov in particular school teachers, gave the children the names of the heroes of his plays: they named their son Vanya, their daughter Masha, their adopted daughter Sonya. Unusual for provincial America, Russian names, alas, did not bring happiness to their owners: now Vanya and Sonya, aged, lonely and childless, live in parental home, but about Masha, who became famous actress, one can say the same thing they say about her namesake from “Three Sisters” - “the poor thing has no personal happiness.”

However, the playwright does not insist on specific coincidences: in his play there is, as it were, “all of Chekhov,” mixed in arbitrary proportions. So, Masha (Lika Nifontova) is more like Arkadina - a narcissistic actress who comes home with a young lover, though not a writer, but also an actor, nicknamed Nail. She’s also a little bit like Ranevskaya from The Cherry Orchard. And even Professor Serebryakov - because he wants to sell the house where Vanya and Sonya (Marina Ivanova) while away their lives. In the American Van (Denis Sukhanov) one can find the traits of Andrei Prozorov, although here he has not three sisters, but two, but the signs of Treplev appear much more clearly - the aging klutz, it turns out, is composing a play and even, as in “The Seagull,” organizing an experimental home performance, fortunately, there is also a grateful performer in the neighborhood - a girl named Nina who dreams of the stage.

The American playwright, to be clear, nevertheless composed a comedy, and not in the Chekhovian sense, that is, requiring explanations and reservations, but quite in the box office sense. And it is unlikely that she, in turn, would have become a commercial hit and would have received the most important Broadway theater Tony Award several years ago if she had not been given clear plot injections. If only the housekeeper Cassandra had not been added to the quasi-Chekhovian heroes, who not only predicts (also in accordance with her name) troubles, but also tries to cast magic in order to ward off misfortunes from the family. If the lustful Nail had not been caught by Masha in love affair with her assistant and would not have been expelled from home in disgrace for this. Finally, if at the end of the play the notorious happy ending had not dawned: thoughts of selling the family nest were abandoned, Masha had a reassessment of values, and Sonya, who had lost hope, had a chance for a personal life.

It is difficult (and why) to talk about how the play looks in the American context. Comparing her with Chekhov himself is completely stupid - her task is not to imitate and there are no significant subtexts in it. Konstantin Raikin rightfully saw it as a lyrical comedy. To complete the picture, it must be said that the comic colors in the play from time to time thicken to frankly farcical concentrations - but to a huge extent concert hall“Planet KVN”, where “Satyricon” is forced to play during the reconstruction of its main building, this seems like a completely natural solution.

Konstantin Raikin brings something much more important to Durang's work. No matter how much we strive to discern today's people in Chekhov's plays and fit his plots into today's circumstances, the fate of the people about whom the author himself wrote is known to us - and it is tragic. Christopher Durang offers an almost painless, relatively peaceful reincarnation. No one is suggesting that you believe in her. Because the characters in Raikin’s play are neither Russian nor American. They live in a completely special system, on a separate theatrical planet. It is no coincidence that the house invented for the stage family by the artist Boris Valuev is children's drawing house, then a large theater pavilion, and it easily, with just a few movements, turns into a theater for home performance. Well, this is an illusion akin to Chekhov’s, and it is no less cruel - theater has never saved the world, but to get rid of faith in it magical power It doesn't work at all.

Having recovered from the shock received due to the recently heard information, Tikhonov took Kostya with him and disappeared into the laboratory. The head of the computer department quickly took all the data from the guy and when he accompanied him to the exit, Belozerov intercepted him in the corridor.
-Van, Rogozina asked me to tell you that now you will be working on the Nesterova case. – Sergei said, smiling. – You can find out the details from Sonya.
-What?! Why me? You were the one who started working on this case, right?
-I would love to finish it, but my son got sick. Galina Nikolaevna gave me leave, and handed the matter over to you.
-It's clear. – Ivan responded sluggishly.
-By the way, have you seen Sonya today? – Belozerov said conspiratorially and, noticing a slight confusion on his friend’s face, continued. - I see you have already met. So how do you like her today?
-Listen, you seemed to be in a hurry to get home!
-Yes, yes, you're right. I am already leaving.
-Here you go.
Without saying another word to each other, the experts moved in opposite directions. As soon as the head of the computer department entered the laboratory, the red hair of the girl sitting at the computer immediately caught his eye. She raised her head at the sound of the door closing.
-Have you seen Belozerov? – Sonya asked calmly, looking straight into Ivan’s eyes.
-He went home. Rogozina gave him leave family circumstances. Now I will help with Nesterova’s case.
-What? – The girl was taken aback.
-That! I was told that you would bring me up to date. – Tikhonov said, but noticing the incredulous look of his interlocutor, he added. - Forgive me for yesterday. I was just in a bad mood.
-I know why. – Sonya said quietly. “Forget it, I’m not mad at you anymore.” I understand.
-That is great! Now tell me about the case...
Half an hour later, the computer genius knew all the circumstances of the crime and even managed to start hacking the victim’s computer. At the same time, he explained something to Sonya. It was this very thing that Maisky found them doing, who decided to visit the girl.
-Oh, what an idyll! – He smiled, approaching the experts. – And I thought that you were already having fights without rules here.
-Very funny! - Tikhonov responded. - By the way, why are you without a robe?
-Don’t get angry Vanya, I’m already dressing him. Have you found out anything yet?
-Not yet. - Sonya answered. – We have just started studying Marishka’s computer. Any results will appear in at least half an hour. Come by this time.
-Or maybe I’d rather sit here? Suddenly it occurs to you to fight. At least I'll separate you.
-Seryozha, don’t be afraid. I will not beat the helpless. – The girl smiled. – Moreover, we have come to a temporary peace agreement.
-Okay, I'll go then. There will be results, call immediately.
-Yeah! – The couple responded in one voice...
It was not difficult for Tikhonov to hack Maryana’s computer. Just 10 minutes after Maisky left, he and his partner were fully exploring the information stored in the smart technology. As the guys understood, Maryana regularly corresponded with a certain Vladimir. The messages contained mostly “love dregs,” as Ivan put it, but the last letters were radically different. In them, the girl wrote that she would tell his father about something. But what exactly was not listed anywhere. Having finished reading the correspondence, Tikhonov reached for the phone.
-Maisky, we found out that Nesterova was actively communicating with a certain Vladimir Smirnov. – He reported into the phone. – I texted you the address. Galina Nikolaevna is aware.
-Understood. I'm already on my way to get him. – The major responded and hung up.
-It’s strange, why Galina Nikolaevna forbade me to go?! – Sonya said quietly.
-Because she knows that you are still under the influence of emotions that greatly affect your common sense. Rogozina is afraid that you will break things in the heat of the moment. – Ivan responded. - By the way, why are you so interested in solving this crime?
-Marishka was mine best friend. Although no, even more. She was like a sister to me. She always helped and supported me in everything. She even saved Kostya’s and my life several times. But I couldn’t help her.
-I think you shouldn’t blame yourself. You couldn't do anything for her.
-I could, but I didn’t have time! – The girl sighed. - Okay, let's close this topic. Would you like to have coffee in my company?
-Why not. Went….
Half an hour later, Maisky led the suspect past the buffet where Sonya and Vanya were resting peacefully. Although this man was not familiar to her, the girl immediately ran out into the corridor. She was even about to call out to the major, but Tikhonov, who came out after her, abruptly covered her mouth with his hand. Sonya responded to this with an elbow strike to his ribs. Ivan, who did not expect anything like this, immediately let her go and bent over in pain.
-What are you doing? “He groaned, leaning on the wall.
-What are you doing?! Why did you close my mouth?
-So that you don't do anything stupid. Think for yourself, will this person answer Sergei’s questions after he sees you here?! You said yourself that you know him.
-This is not the person Marishka introduced me to. – Sonya responded and looked at Vanya. - Sorry for the blow. Does it hurt a lot?
- Okay, it doesn’t hurt that much. I received blows and more painful ones. Let’s go to the laboratory, maybe there will be some work for us...