While rehearsing for our upcoming display, Russian director Aleksey Burago and I had a heated discussion about the Russian Soul–specifically, the dearth of it in Hollywood’s treatment of Russian literature.
“No! It’s all wrong! They do no longer understand the characters’ mentality! It’s all room temperature! With the exception of one or two actors, none of them discovered the irrational, passionate, obsessive creatures handiest Russia is able to producing!”
War and Peace, starring the wonderful Audrey Hepburn comes to thoughts. Everyone is so measured, so calculated. Logical alternatives. Impeccable diction. But it’s as if someone has taken a Rachmaninov piano concerto and transcribed it for the piccolo. There’s no length, the timbre too thin. They’re taking over a beast with a tea spoon.
I suppose again to my piano days at Eastman School of Music, when I was sincerely positive I turned into destined to turn out to be a live performance pianist. Most of my instructors have been Russian émigrés who taught passionately with thick accents. They spoke bluntly, animatedly, regularly exaggerating to the point of anxiety just to make a factor. They approached tune, particularly the Russian repertoire, so spiritually it bordered on fanaticism. While American instructors emphasised the idea and tonality at the back of compositions, the Russians pushed for creativeness, theatricality, and the entire surrendering of the soul to the audience.
Twelve years ago, when I made the gradual but inevitable transition to the appearing, I observed myself once more within the employer of Russian artists. Only this time, they were youngsters of the theater, trained from their teenagers to express beauty and supply catharsis utilizing every limb of their body. They, too, worship the sacred target market. But not like the Russian musicians, these creatures were a long way extra irascible and fireplace up with the slightest provocation. Actors, especially the nicely-trained ones, can feel thoughts and hidden emotions. When they are plagued via self-doubt, specifically for the duration of the rehearsal manner, it’s higher to put on complete-protecting gear and behave as in case you are strolling on ice.
Just what is the Russian temperament, as prescribed via the Pushkin, Gogol, Dostoevsky or even Chekhov? Is it a love of suffering, a tortured sense of right and wrong, a pessimistic outlook and a perception in superstition and good fortune? Rumor has it the Russian heart is constantly bleeding, its inner life either scathingly warm or within the midst of a blinding snow fall. One minute the characters are screaming, the subsequent they may be showering each different with kisses. And before you are aware of it, all people breaks into music and “Ochi Chyornye” is ringing off the partitions. Am I generalizing? Unabashedly so!
A Russian actor once instructed me, “darling, believe the Russian person is an extravagant, oversized dress that is impossible to tailor. If it is too tight here you have to lose the fat, but if it is too dishevelled there, you have to benefit a few muscle.”
In different phrases, upward thrust to the Russian Soul. Don’t chisel it to match the American perspective. Easier said than accomplished.
So now, what’s the recipe for Russian Soul?
1 tablespoon of Moscow in flames
three liters song in minor key, with plenty of descending fifths
2 cups snow
1 cup of boiling blood
1 cup of hot tears
1 gal vodka
1 sprinkle of dill
Stir recklessly and serve on delicate china.
