Innovation, seeking, desire to be original and the first to discover hot water is part of the DNA of any artist. Still, sometimes this desire of shocking at any cost leads to awkward, pathetic, or at the best, hilarious results. This is also the case of the performance “Three Sisters”, staged by director Gelu Badea with the North Theatre in Satu Mare. The viewer going there imagining that he knows who the three sisters are and what their drama is will be surprised at the image of his own ignorance. You sit comfortably on the chair and get ready for catharsis. And what do you see? Well, from the very beginning you set eyes on an obviously pregnant Olga Sergeyevna Prozorova. A bit unusual for a spinster. “Maybe it’s only the actress who’s pregnant and there was no one to replace her”, you tell yourself. But, no, that’s not the case. All the characters protectively place their hands on her belly stressing out that, despite the bourgeois morality, everyone is happy with it. Intrigued, you accept it with difficulty and bearing this in mind, you are waiting to see what happens next. The greater your surprise when the text tells you that four years have passed and Olga is still pregnant. Meanwhile, the characters move back and forth some suitcases, with sad look on their faces. Then you are astonished to see that the wedding of Andrei Prozorov with Natalia Ivanovna takes place on Hava Nagila rhythms, which the grooms are carried on arms like at Jewish and then they break cups. To make things clear, they shout “Mazel Tov”. Only then do you understand that Chekhov did not explain it very well: the Prozorovs were Jews. Well that’s some discovery! Needless for the baron to insist: “I'm not a German. I’m a Russian Orthodox, just like you.” There’s no point to that. And to entangle things more, Aleksandr Ignatyevich Vershinin is dressed in a Nazi officer's uniform. Completely confused by the abundance of information, you cannot help wondering what the hell are doing the Germans in Russia. Let's assume that the three sisters lived to see World War II, but when, God forbid, did the Germans conquer the USSR? And how about Stalin, where was he? When nearly three quarters of the performance elapsed and you long abandoned searching for any sense, you are illuminated Mind you it is very short and must be focused not to miss it. A voice from the off is heard saying something like: “Actors, prepare now for the photographs scene”. It is only when you might be flashed by the thought that this is a play inside the play. But to this line, there was nothing, so sign, no hint of it. Based on this new idea, some of the enigmas are halfway revealed. Alright. So it was not the Prozorovs who were Jews, but the actors. Which actors were Jews in a concentration camp. And Olga was forever pregnant because the actress in the camp was (see, I wasn’t wrong on my first guess after all). And that small and bad Verşinin with swastika on his arm and a drew up small Hitler moustache, if it wasn’t clear enough that he’s a Nazi after his uniform, is an officer with a fetish for the “Three Sisters” play and forces the prisoners to play it before sending them to the gas chamber. Excellent. Come on, it’s not like is all lost. We got a chance to make some sense out of this performance, however frail. Accepting the fact that the director did not invent even cold water, let alone the hot, with this approach, some questions still arise. For example, if the Nazi officer directed the “Three Sisters”, how come that he used Hebrew folklore for a Russian play? Germans are, as we all know, “minute craftmen: with attention for details. And, I mean, why would he not rather chose Wagner, than Hava Nagila. And why did he allow the actors be so sloppy? A real Nazi officer would have said: “Scheise! Put those damn suitcases down and you’re your line properly!” I am inclined to believe that the Nazi would have directed a much better performance than Mister Gelu Badea. Unfortunately, in this staging, not even the Germans are still what they once were. For example, the Nazi officer, aka Vershinin is actually a failed attempt for Abel Aravidze, that diabolical mix between Stalin and Hitler in the film “Repentance” by Tengiz Abuladze.
Sure, in write what I just wrote I undertake the risk of being told that I am a fanatic when it comes to staging classical texts. But I confess with all honestly that I would find credible the three sisters at Auschwitz, just as they may seem at home in Siberia or even as geishas in Kyoto or even as three seals on ice floe (we could just as well stage Chekhov at the circus) as long as the director makes me believe the story. Every director has the right to stage a play however he feels like, as long as he gets some aesthetic coverage. Theatre is much like mobile telephony. If you move into an area with no coverage, you might end up talking to yourself. And no one would object to that if these private expeditions of strictly solitary pleasure would not be taken on public money.
