Popular Russian actor Oleg Menshikov has shown his first production of "Wit Works Woe" in Riga. In September Moscow audiences will also be treated to Griboyedov's comedy.

After the short but stunning success of the play "N," Oleg Menshikov, who played Vaclav Nijinsky with such magnetic force, staged Griboyedov's "Wit Works Woe" reserving the principal role of Chatsky for himself. It was decided to give the premiere a trial run in Riga and Chelyabinsk first, and then take it to Moscow in mid-September.
The new production is unlike the fruit of other actor/directors whose chief object is to show off one's own precious self. It is clear now why Menshikov shuns interviewers, never turns up at social gatherings or on television: He devotes what time is left from shooting movies to learning the basics of the 20th century's number one stage profession, directing. There is no other explanation for the miracle of a production emerging out of nothing, with a well-peopled stage (24 actors all told), rich in ideas and associations, making a pinpoint immersion in the age that is anything but trite, and with wonderfully apt work by designers Pavel Kaplevich (scenery and costumes) and Igor Chapurin (costume collection for the ball). When the curtain rises and the spectator sees the exquisite set in the style of famous Pietro Gonzago, who used to paint the plafonds of Pavlovsk palaces and design the Arkhangelskoye productions of Yusupov's company, with the same magically deceptive perspectives, and Liza the maid doing her candle dance, one thinks: You call that a one-shot troupe? A whole Maly Theater is more like it, except that the actors are too young; their peers in renowned establishments spend at least a decade rehearsing the "Dinner is served!" cue. Even before the main hero appears, to the accompaniment of appropriately bravura music, and soars to the flies, much to the delight of the public, one's interest is taken by Sofia (Olga Kuzina), a totally unexpected phenomenon in terms of our domestic tradition. For over a century we have known that Sofia is Chatsky's only equal in the play, and her misfortune is the wrong upbringing; but here we are suddenly confronted with a diminutive, malevolent, cold and at the same time dainty creature. If there is any affinity between her and the main hero, it is in the degree of contempt for the people around them and their own self-admiration. And just as Chatsky's whim is to destroy the stagnant life of the Moscow gentry, so is Molchalin (Alexei Zavyalov) bent on destroyning that of Sofia. She and her tall long-haired lover make an enchanting pair, which the director emphasizes by lighting their finely chiselled, black silhouettes against a white backdrop.
Certainly, Menshikov can neither disappoint the critics of either sex eagerly anticipating some form of surprise, nor the female half of the audience that have long since viewed the actor as today's biggest sex idol. He has to live up to expectations because, as someone said of him, he is "a pillar of energy;" he has seas of charm and oceans of temperament. Mother Nature has endowed him with the amount of talent that might do for a dozen leading actors and two dozen ex-Heroes of Socialist Labor, though, as rumor has it, he showed little academic excellence as a student at the Shchepkin Drama School. But Menshikov is probably the last romantic hero of the Russian stage who can have the audience in tears; not because "pray, who are the judges," as the character says in the play, but also because nowhere on earth is there "a nook in which a wounded spirit may find an asylum." But the actor-cum-director is after something else; he wants the public to sob over his unrequited love, his feeling rejected by Sofia. And he is certainly right: Today it is far more interesting to play Chatsky's love than his verbal rebellion against the conservative, obsequious and tyrannical Moscow - people are sick to death of all kinds of denunciations. But can a Chatsky like that love a Sofia like that?
Yekaterina Vasilyeva as Khlestova, Igor Okhlupin as Famusov, whose acting fits to a T that of the rest of the cast, and St. Petersburg actor Sergei Migitsko as Repetilov, are the only known names in the production, barring Menshikov himself. The others take the classic polish off the play by their very youthfulness and inexperience, while some will also be remembered for the liveliness of character - Polina Agureyeva (Liza), Oleg Lopukhov (Petrushka) and Sergei Pinchuk (Skalozub).
In the final scene, the Russian Empire splendor gives way to an austere frame reminiscent of Meyerhold's theater. Everything has been exposed: the worthlessness of the departing guests with their masks of good manners cast aside; the worthlessness of Molchalin who feigned love to aid his career; the worthlessness of Sofia who would rather forgive Molchalin his "warped soul" than Chatsky's "audacity of wit." The hero's final monolog "Oh, to get out of Moscow!" is the last powerful romantic note breaking through the polyphony of the play crammed with numerous lengthy monologs and dialogs that a modern audience is not accustomed to (the play is uncut). The huge intricate makeup of the production seems to weigh down, almost palpably, the leading actor, who has boldly endeavored to cope with what no one can manage single-handedly. It remains to be seen whether he has more luck than his character.

Submitted by Sanochki