"Oh, well", I used to think, "I'll become a journalist and interview Menshikov. I'll come up to him, look into his beautiful eyes and ask something. Or I won't ask anything; I'll just stand rooted to the ground and stare with adoration until I'm asked to leave."
Years went by. Oleg Evgenyevich became a super star building a wall around himself from excited idiots like me. However, the other day a door opened in this wall - it happened because the performance "Woe From Wit" directed by Menshikov was to be withdrawn from stage and his new production "Kitchen" would soon be shown to the public. The interview was to be given in turn - 15 minutes for a brother-journalist, or rather, a sister, because all the four people with dictaphones invited for short conversations with Menshikov were ladies. The regulation was strictly obeyed: Menshikov was in a hurry - in the next room the rehearsal of his "Kitchen" was being held, and he wanted to join actors as soon as possible. I should also add that Oleg Evgenyevich was as good-looking as before, he had a nice tan, which made him look even better; but unfortunately, I had no time to stand rooted to the ground.

- So, you are about to withdraw "Woe From Wit" - a highly successful commercial project. Why?
- We are not a repertory theatre and we exist on the terms of the rent. The Mossovet Theatre kindly lets us have its days off… We play three performances a month maximum. If we continue playing "Woe From Wit" and at the same time begin with "Kitchen" in September, we'll have to reduce the quantity of premiere performances, which is wrong. One more thing: the point is I get bored rather quickly. No matter how much I like this performance, but two years… There was not a role I played that long. At least, for the last 10 years.

- So, you are bored with Chatsky, aren't you?
- It's not that I'm bored with Chatsky… I like him; I like this poetry, this company. But… There are many reasons. If we had a repertory theatre, we might as well keep the performance.

- The video version of "Woe From Wit" has just come out. Why did you decide to release it on video?
- We had no vainglorious thoughts. Or commercial ones. But they suggested us that idea, and I thought, why not? Earlier when different TV channels recorded parts of the performance, it seemed quite telegenic to us.

- Don't you think, some key points were somehow changed in the video?..
- Certainly.

- …As there are no close-ups in the theatre, and here we can see tears in Sofia's eyes or something else…
- Video version has its advantages and disadvantages. One can't feel the breath of the audience, which is a pity; but on the other hand, there's a chance to see faces. You know, there are actors who can "transmit" beyond the bounds of the first three rows. There are some who can reach even the gallery. A TV version gives an opportunity to watch all the actors - regardless of whether they can "transmit" within a meter or up to the balcony.

- Talking about the financial aspect, can you tell me how much the performance cost and how much you gained from it?
- We didn't gain anything. We exist in the conditions of self-repayment on the money we earn from the performance "Woe From Wit". We have neither outstanding surpluses nor losses. Besides, we permit ourselves to choose - if we go on tour, we visit good stages only. I mean, it never happens that we go somewhere just because we are offered a good fee and we've come, but the auditorium is not heated there.

- Do you inquire into the financial matters of the theatre - such as rent etc. - or is it the responsibility of your manager?
- Certainly, I have to inquire into some things, which I don't really want to do.

- For example, when you look for sponsors?
- Yeah, because, in any case, I have to talk with them.

- Your new performance is named "Kitchen". Kitchen seems to be a place no strangers are allowed to enter. Judging from your interviews, that's the way of life you lead, you don't allow strangers to approach you too close. Is the performance "Kitchen" some kind of sublimation of secrecy complex?
- I don't kno-o-ow. First, our "Kitchen" is the kitchen of a restaurant. We don't let anyone in there - only one new person comes there, and everything gets turned upside down. Kitchen seemed a very theatrical scene of action to me. Besides, there is such a word - a cell. Every collective is a cell of society. And it can be traced quite well in the kitchen.

- Can you say anything about the plot?
- You know, it's very hard. Really. It is not because it's a secret. But Maxim Kurochkin came up with a really good situation. There is an owner of the restaurant, there are people who work in the kitchen. It's hard to give details.

- Who are you in the kitchen?
- The owner.

- Somehow, it happened that your most successful films are about the past (even if it's the recent Soviet past), for example, "The Pokrovskie Gate". On the contrary, such films as "Dyuba- Dyuba" or "The Stairs" passed by viewers rather unnoticed. Now you are staging a modern play. Aren't you afraid the same may happen with it?
- I never thought about it. I think "Dyuba-Dyuba" is a good film, it was shot by a very talented man, Sasha Khvan. As for "Kitchen"… Actually, the performance is not that modern - the events take place now there; but who knows what is "now" and who knows whether parallel worlds exist or not. Su-u-uch things may be happening between us now, but we just don't notice them. No, seriously, I am not joking, it concerns the performance a great deal.

- There is a story about your refusal to take "Nizhinsky" to Edinburgh, because there was not a stage with a real window there - a window you should have jumped into in the end of the performance. Well, the theatre is a world of conventionalities, a spectator has to cope with. To cope with the fact that you are older than Chatsky, but still asking for a "carriage". Aren't you sorry now that you refused to take part in the festival then?
- In fact, I very rarely feel sorry about the things I do. I understand that the theatre is conventional; it's not the point. I think that jump was more than a theatre trick. Because if you jump into a painted window, the spectator won't believe you, no matter how hard you will try. Even if we steamed the window as if it were winter, we could never achieve the presence effect. That jump put a significant end to the performance. So if there had not been a window, we should have invented another equally impressive trick. For example, self-immolation. But to jump into a fake window after having jumped in the real street… Well, you understand what I am talking about. And Edinburgh… What about Edinburgh?

At that point, your humble servant opened her mouth to ask the next question, but 15 minutes were gone. Menshikov was smiling - I wouldn't call his smile gloating, but… Well, actually, yes, gloating. But devilishly charming.