Stage "Under the roof" is a strange little space in the Mossovet theatre: the stage itself is in the middle and the audience occupies narrow seats along the walls; it's poorly ventilated and obviously unfit from the point of fire safety - it's not very easy to evacuate people by the narrow winding passages and stair-cases if the walls (heaven forbid!) catch fire from one of the torches which are burnt during the performance; the ceiling is formed by the slopes of the real roof - and it's the very place where Caligula runs wild, laughs, mocks, experiments, kills and gets killed himself - and becomes immortal, Caesar Caligula - Oleg Menshikov.
I believe that none who is familiar with this actor's works had a slightest doubt that "Caligula" would become a big event. However, it's hard to imagine a play greater and at the same time - more unfit for the stage than this creative work by Camus - nearly the most important one all his works.
It's not even a play but a debate on philosophic issues. It's also hard to imagine a part, which it would be as difficult to play as the part of Caligula. This part is a continuous emotional monologue, terrible mixture of extreme cruelty and lyricism, despair and desperation, helplessness and boundless power, treachery and sincerity… One may pick up any pair of antonyms and go on and on…

If it falls to an actor to play such a role and if it becomes famous, all the previous roles are considered just a prelude. Menshikov, the actor, is unique not only because of his unpredictable gift. He's unique by his destiny, for it didn't have any prelude. It was written at once - without corrections. He's been popular right out of the Drama School. It's been steady popularity despite the fact that he didn't play in "The Reefers" or other hits. Being a student, he made his first appearance in "Kinfolk". His role was a nearly silent close up. And without uttering a word he said so much that people began talking about him, "There's a unique actor of intellectual kind in Mikhalkov's film". A rumour about him being unique wasn't exaggerated. Intellectual? Not only… In his graduation performance at the Drama school - it was "Stairs Of Fame" by Skrib - he acted in eccentric, light, lively, sincere and sparkling way. He played a young creature, the one who is geniously witty and free next to being insolent. He acted in a grotesque way of a musical comedy, dancing cancan he'd staged himself and gracefully jumping down from a fairly good height with an umbrella in his hand.
… And Kostik in "The Pokrovskie Gate" - a popular film by Mikhail Kozakov - was played in such a talented manner, with so much charm that it seemed he might live well on such roles for a long time. Playing brilliant playboys. And collecting female fans. Critics didn't exaggerate it while comparing Menshikov with young Delon.

Menshikov, the actor, plays another actor - Caligula. Once Caligula used to be "a flawless emperor" except that "…this boy was too interested in literature, and it's not decent for an emperor to have an artistic bent". But all this belongs to the past. What is left is the Emperor himself but his artistic bent has changed its form. He's the man who learnt to reflect too early and too deeply but who has just faced the reality. But his age… It's something between childhood and adult life. It's not clear whether he's still a boy who's forced to take the burden of sudden adulthood and knowledge that all people "are mortal and unhappy", or a grown-up who puts on a mask of childishness protecting himself with the illusion of a game - it's the most convenient protection, which allows him to bring his crazy idea to its logical end. Menshikov, the actor, plays another actor - Caligula. Caligula pretends to be a child who plays the leading part in a game about cruel tyrant. A powerful teenager, absorbed and suppressed by this game. He plays with intonations of his voice and movements of his body: he makes carnivals - puts on swimming caps and female wigs, different shoes and costumes. He portrays gods and imitates a flying plane and grimaces of a kept woman. He mocks at God - and those closest to him, he turns his palace into a theatre; only it's not cranberry juice, but real blood that runs there - even if it's a comedy. He destroys his accidental victims with childish subconscious sadistic pleasure watching their agony in the way a curious boy watches convulsions of a bug fixed by a pin. And even being alone he seems to pull faces at himself standing in front of a mirror. It's impossible to stop the game, which conceals and justifies feverish work of his mind, which once lost its reference points and now desperately looks for new ones. And is eager to speak out.

Menshikov - dissembler? Another kind of a role. And it didn't disappear ten years ago. But the stereotype was broken. In the cinema - in "Flights In Dreams And In Reality", where charming youth was just a mask, which concealed cruel, all conquering - or all-destroying? - self-assurance. And in the Theatre of the Soviet Army, where he played Ganya Ivolgin, this interpretation of the character struck with its unexpected strong feeling of self-esteem, masked by showy pride… There are no eccentricities or tricks in these works. Only wholeness. No sketches. It's not the prelude to creative work - it is creative work itself. And there was a kind of bravery, which allowed him to surpass the masters… not the understudies for he himself was an understudy. De jure. But not de facto.

* * *

There's already a genius image of Caligula, which is different from the one written by Camus. It was created by Malcolm McDowell in the film of the same name. This film was a long time taboo in Russia because of its, so to speak, historical and physiological frankness. Its characters are people who exist nearly on the level of instincts. The Roman Emperor - the film covers the whole period of his rule - lives by the only law natural in this particular situation: you must be the first one to kill or you'll be killed yourself. He takes it as it I, without asking useless questions or delivering long monologues. Forced to be a murderer, he finds here pleasure of boundless power and satisfaction of permissiveness. However, being so predictable, he goes through deep psychological crisis when the only creature he loves - his sister Drusilla - dies and he realizes his helplessness in the face of fate. His cruelty and reckless tyranny reach the point of absurd. In his sorrow and boundless power, he becomes nearly the highest among his closest (a metaphor that goes through the film is a sheep-flock) and comes to self-destruction, suicide in the form of palace revolution. But the film has many interesting points beyond "the evolution of the emperor's soul", while Camus fully concentrates on Caligula - and on the three year period that follows Drusilla's death and ends in the death of the main character. He concentrates on Caligula's reflections, his self-awareness.

* * *

In 1985 Menshikov, being already an actor of the Ermolova theatre, played a part of Sergey in "Sport Scenes of 1981". It was a benefit performance of stars: Doronina, Pavlov, Dogileva and - Oleg Menshikov. He crossed out his charm - it was "anti-Menshikov" onstage. A helpless person, nearly a sexless weakling, who grasps for love like for straws, a nervous person with a different message. Anyway, this message was strong and drew the audience.

Caligula, who once realized his helplessness, is eager to conquer it and reach the impossible - he wants the moon in his hands or immortality. And at the same time… Doesn't he sacrifice his life trying to make patricians (aren't they really a sheep-flock?) gain their self-esteem? Maybe he tries to arouse their dignity by enslaving them? In addition, if happiness in itself is the absence of misery, is there any hope to make people happy by turning yourself into an image of misery and then - by letting people destroy you? Or maybe he doesn't know what his aim is, making his way through loads of dead bodies: if only things would change somehow…

After Sergey, Menshikov abandoned his attractive feature - his charm - in the next premiere of the Ermolova theatre. The thing that had remained unchanged in all his previous works was the charm of youth. This charm could be either attractive or repulsive. It was romantic, capricious, playful, boyish. However, as Robespierre in "The Second Year Of Freedom", Menshikov abandoned his youth and charm. The interpretation of this character (mostly by the playwright) was debatable among critics. But it's up to historians to talk about it. As for the play itself it had an unhappy stage destiny, it didn't stay long. Nevertheless, it had one unquestionable advantage: the work of Oleg Menshikov. His Robespierre was a thin intellectual in glasses, a keeper of the revolutionary idea, a tyrant vested with power… Was he really a tyrant? Or just a victim of cruel terrorism machine, which he himself started up? Menshikov rejected any striking features playing this part. It seems he never raised his voice during the performance. But reflections of his character turned to be surprisingly touching and full of pain. His Robespierre suffered because he couldn't connect his ideas with the real life - and real death… He was unhappy, great and frightening…

The part of Caligula seems to combine nearly everything: roles that have been played and those that haven't. There's boyishness and playfulness of "The Pokrovskie Gate" and "Stairs Of Fame" in it, cold curiosity of executioner to sufferings of his victims from "The Invitation To Execution". But every game is sure to come to its end. Having become a slave of his idea, which leads to destruction, Caligula strangles Censonia: the hope for the impossible was still alive and maybe it required one more victim - the most precious one? But the impossible didn't happen - it was a common thing that took place. Another upheaval of court. It's a pity that the final turned out to be simpler than the play and the performance were. Caesar Caligula, a great experimenter with kind and evil, life and death, a child and a philosopher at the same time - in the end he turned out to be a tyrant among many other tyrants. Or did he manage to reach immortality? He turned into a monument of himself and said with a grin, "I'm still alive!" But does it have something in common with death rattle of the Caligula of Camus - hope that stays alive when a person has already stepped beyond the boarder of death…
However, it doesn't kill the atmosphere of a festival that appeared with Oleg Menshikov. Everybody around him stays nearly motionless and Caligula swirls around filling everything and everyone with his energy. Even when he doesn't move during some monologues the power of emotions is so great that the audience becomes inspired by this energy, magnetism of the actor, and the Caesar. Is it Caligula who rules? Or is it Menshikov? As always. Every role is apotheosis. Destiny without prelude. And is there a role to which Caligula could be a prelude?