User:Kenirwin/bogaev

This is just a scratch pad; for the real article, see: Oleg Bogayev

Raw Data, Etc

-- US premier was at The Studio Theatre in Washington DC -- 1997 dramatic reading at Lyubimovka Festival of Young Playwrights in June (The Moscow Times July 17, 1997 Festival of Playwrights Helps Keep Art Alive BYLINE: By John Freedman SECTION: No. 1251) -- 1997, wins best play Anti-Booker Prize (The Moscow Times July 23, 1998 "New Productions Failed to Break New Ground" BYLINE: By John Freedman SECTION: No. 1501) -- "Also in the offing at the Tabakov is Oleg Bogayev's "The Russian National Postal Service." This play was discovered in June 1997 at the Lyubimovka seminar of contemporary drama. Oleg Tabakov will star in the one-man show about a character who carries on a correspondence with historical figures living and dead. Directing is Kama Ginkas, making it the first time this renowned director has worked in Moscow outside the Theater Yunogo Zritelya in a decade and making it the first time he has staged a contemporary play in even longer. Ginkas' new production of Pushkin's "The Golden Cockerel" is expected to open at the Theater Yunogo Zritelya around the second week of October." (The Moscow Times September 25, 1998 MARQUEE: Ostrovsky at Maly Again BYLINE: By John Freedman SECTION: No. 1547)

• The Room of Laughter - 2000 - won Best Play at Golden Mask Festival (Moscow)

(cite: NYT "At a Russian Festival, the Discussion's the Thing" By JOHN FREEDMAN Published: April 30, 2000 url: http://query.nytimes.com/gst/fullpage.html?res=9501EEDA1330F933A05757C0A9669C8B63&sec=&spon=&pagewanted=all )

• The Rubber Prince (Rezinovy Prints): Lolita Milyavskaya stars in this musical show based on Oleg Bogayev's absurdist comedy "Phallus Imitator" (Falloimitator). Produced and designed by Pavel Kaplevich; directed by Nina Chusova; choreographed by Olga Prikhudailova. Estrada Theater. 7 p.m.

(http://context.themoscowtimes.com/plain/31102003/theater.html -- 2003)

• • "Oleg Bogaev has written a rather interesting, vernacular play called Phallic Imitator about sexual intrigue in the Russian capital; it involves a dildo called Prince."

O'Mahony, John (25 October 2003). "Blasted Theory". The Guardian. Retrieved 15 December 2008. {{cite news}}: Cite has empty unknown parameter: |coauthors= (help)

"Oleg Bogaev (a graduate of and now a faculty member at Kolyada’s school) creates a philosophical tale, Dead Ears, on the loss of literary interest and cultural values, managing to keep the tone light when the hilarious characters of Pushkin, Gogol, and Chekhov make a home in a small town where the library is about to close because no one reads their work anymore."

Room of Laughter == Russian national postal service

The Moscow Times November 6, 1998 Ginkas Works Magic on Tabakov BYLINE: By John Freedman SECTION: No. 1577 LENGTH: 997 words

Staff Writer

In the harrowing end to Kama Ginkas' brilliant, relentless production of "Room of Laughter" for the Tabakov Theater, a group of stony -faced people whack violently at an enormous, silver-walled capsule that clangs shut with a terrified man inside it as if it were a tomb. One of those indifferent people wears a tool belt on his hip and barks orders over the din through a bullhorn - he appears to be a work-crew foreman. Maybe he, like the others, is an avenging angel of God; maybe he is a heartless neighbor of Ivan Zhukov, the poor old man who is being sealed up in this sarcophagus; maybe he is insane and this whole place is an asylum; maybe he exists only in the inflamed imagination of the failing, 75-year-old Zhukov.

One thing is certain: When he begins barking out orders for the actors to bow, we are abruptly transported from the disturbing finale of a tale about an individual utterly alone in the universe to the traditional celebratory applause and bows of the theatrical act. In the split second it takes us to realize what has happened, we pass through the catharsis that purges us in every production mounted by Kama Ginkas.

None of Ginkas' final business is in Oleg Bogayev's excellent play, which originally surfaced as "The Russian National Postal Service" at the 1997 Lyubimovka playwriting festival. Moreover, Bogayev's own ending - no less terrible, it shows the confused Zhukov believing he has been deprived of the comfort of death - has been cut from the play.

But this is where the magic of theater comes in, in the collaboration of differing but corresponding visions. Ginkas represents everything Bogayev was after, only he makes it more cosmic. The image of Zhukov peering at us through a tiny window in his "tomb" and beating his fists against it is a stunning nonverbal expression of Bogayev's very intention.

Other semi-realistic elements in the play - people knocking on heat pipes, the sounds of the city, snow falling outside - have either been abstracted or removed. What remains with a vengeance is Bogayev's story of a human at odds with the world he inhabits.

Ivan Zhukov (Oleg Tabakov) is a lonely widower who can barely afford to eat and seldom leaves his room. Quite naturally, he slips into a series of strange correspondences. He starts by writing a letter to himself from his long-lost school buddies and then he answers it.

Later he corresponds with the director of central telecommunications, the president of Russia, Queen Elizabeth II, the bugs in his apartment and a cosmonaut in orbit. Zhukov imagines he receives letters filled with honors, praise and proposals, and then graciously responds himself.

As the letters grow more fanciful, various historical and literary figures begin appearing. Bursting out of Zhukov's refrigerator and desk, Queen Elizabeth II (Marianna Shults) and Vladimir Lenin (Pavel Kondratyev) bicker about Marxist and capitalist exploitation and quarrel over who will get the old man's apartment when he dies. Other fleeting "visitors" - perhaps figments of Zhukov's fantasy or other inmates in an asylum - include the Russian civil war hero Chapayev, the legendary film actress Lyubov Orlova and even Robinson Crusoe.

Bogayev's play, receiving its world premiere under the direction of Ginkas, is a clear descendant of Nikolai Gogol's seminal short story, "The Diary of a Madman." But it is not merely derivative. It is a modern development of a strain of literature about small, alienated people that has become a fixture in the Russian tradition.

One of this production's great achievements is the performance of Oleg Tabakov. This actor has been one of Russia's most popular since his career began in 1957. But the boyish charm that originally made Tabakov famous has often been brassy self-satisfaction in the 1990s. Through his work in film, the Moscow Art Theater and his own theater, which officially came into being in 1987, Tabakov has fortified his popularity, while his artistry as an actor has declined sharply.

Ginkas vigorously stripped Tabakov of the cliches that have burdened his recent work. Almost obliterated are the overconfident grins, the boastful voice and the swaggering, self-appreciating carriage. In those rare moments when the old Tabakov shines through, the production noticeably loses its edge and careens toward a lazy sentimentality. Those moments, however, are rare.

What amazes is the fearlessness Tabakov usually brings to his performance. His old man whose life has soured and who has become a battered toy in the games of history and politics is marvelously crusty even as he teeters on the brink of parting with sanity. His finest moments are his blank, frozen stares into the abyss of his confused mind and wasted life. It is a chilling, heartbreaking moment when Zhukov crawls into a cupboard above his tiny hallway and "receives" a letter from a cosmonaut who is worried about his tattered shoes.

Sergei Barkhin's magnificent set is a character in itself. Standing at the center of an empty stage is a huge silver shell, perhaps a spaceship, perhaps a monstrous suitcase with a window. When it opens, it reveals Zhukov's minutely detailed living quarters in which every object will eventually take part in the action. Sergei Skornetsky's excellent lighting begins as realistic but becomes increasingly otherworldly as Zhukov's state deteriorates.

In "Room of Laughter," Kama Ginkas enjoys a triple triumph: He has reawakened Oleg Tabakov's slumbering prowess as an actor, has given a brilliant send-off to a new play by a promising young writer and has added another powerful production to the long list that has made him one of Russia's greatest directors. Not a bad day's work.

"Room of Laughter" (Komnata smekha), a production of the Tabakov Theater, plays Nov. 10, 16 and 24 at 7 p.m. at the Theater Yunogo Zritelya, 10 Mamonovsky Pereulok. Tel. 928-9685. Running time: 1 hour, 30 minutes.

The Moscow Times

(July 17, 1997 "Festival of Playwrights Helps Keep Art Alive" BYLINE: By John Freedman SECTION: No. 1251)

Bogayev, 27, may be one of them. At the 1997 Lyubimovka Festival of Young Playwrights in June, the soft-spoken author was singled out by many as a top discovery. One passionate critic even got up after a dramatized reading of Bogayev's tragicomedy, "The Russian National Postal Service," and proclaimed it superior to anything written by two of the most celebrated playwrights of the 20th century, Eugene Ionesco and Samuel Beckett.

The annual festival, first held in 1990 at the Sheremetyevo estate and since 1991 at Lyubimovka, brings together playwrights aged 35 or younger. This year 20 writers from nine cities (including one from Stockholm) participated. Over a two week period, they lived together in a dormitory on the grounds of the estate and ate, drank and slept playwriting. Each saw one of their plays presented by a professional director and professional actors for a small audience of peers.

The showings were followed by frank discussions during which colleagues and guests took the floor either to praise or criticize the author and his work. In the case of Bogayev's play - the story of a typical Russian "little man" who imagines himself corresponding with all kinds of famous individuals past, present, real and fictional - the first wave of commentary was enthusiastic. The atmosphere thickened, however, when the first dissenter stepped up.

Alexei Kazantsev, a well-known playwright and one of the festival organizers, addressed Bogayev directly, reminding him that the festival's strength is in its honesty and openness. Kazantsev then declared he was physically repulsed by what he perceived to be Bogayev's disrespectful portrait of his hero. Some immediately expressed agreement with Kazantsev; others came to the young playwright's defense. When asked by Kazantsev to comment himself, Bogayev humbly thanked everyone for the comments and the attention to his work.

Two days later, Bogayev reiterated in a private conversation that he was indeed grateful for the opportunity to be heard. "It is difficult for someone in Yekaterinburg to get anyone's attention in Moscow," he said.

It would appear, however, Bogayev has done just that. After the stormy reception of his play, he said he felt a "real possibility" that "The Russian National Postal Service" might soon be staged in Moscow. If that happens, it will be only the most recent in a string of Lyubimovka triumphs.

The Guardian (London) - Final Edition

August 29, 2005 Reviews: Theatre: Lenin meets the Queen at the Old Red Lion: Russian National Mail: Old Red Lion, London 3/5 BYLINE: Michael Billington SECTION: Guardian Leader Pages, Pg. 14

Ekaterinburg used to be famous as the death-place of Tsar Nicholas II and his family. Now, however, it seems to be the chief birthplace of new Russian drama. After Vassily Sigarev and the Presynakov brothers, all championed by the Royal Court, along comes Oleg Bogaev: a strange, eccentric, Gogolian talent here given his British premiere by a new group called Sputnik Theatre.

Bogaev's hero is an ex-soldier and civil servant who now lives in wretched poverty in a room piled high with yellowing papers. His sole means of relieving his frustration is letter-writing. However, since his correspondents include Lenin, Elizabeth II, Vivien Leigh and Yuri Gagarin, it soon becomes clear that he is engaged in a frantic dialogue with himself. In the wilder stretches of his imagination, his correspondents even talk to each other, so that the Bolshevik leader and the British monarch argue ferociously over the rights to his seedy apartment. The moral seems clear: life in modern Russia is conducive to madness.

Although Bogaev's play is a piece of contemporary absurdism, it also belongs to a long Russian literary tradition. If Gogol comes to mind, it is because he was both an expert on crazed solitude and an uncontrollable letter-writer: he once wrote to a hated critic, after the death of his wife: "Jesus Christ will help you become a gentleman - which you are neither by education or inclination." Despite its distinguished ancestry, Bogaev's play is admittedly incapable of much dramatic development. It also wastes some of its minor characters so that you never, as you might hope, see Trotsky dialectically engaging with Lenin.

What Bogaev's play offers is a haunting image of desolation, one that almost seems a metaphor for artistic creation: what else does a writer do but give life to absent figures through imaginary conversations? As director and translator, Noah Birksted-Breen makes a profoundly Russian play accessible to a western audience. Kevin McGonagle as the hero suggests both the sadness and the occasional ecstasy of the epistolary life, and Joseph Wicks and Leila Gray do strenuous battle as Lenin and Lizzie. An intriguing, hour-long curiosity.

The Independent (London)

September 5, 2005, Monday THEATRE: RUSSIAN NATIONAL MAIL OLD RED LION LONDON HHH BYLINE: ALICE JONES SECTION: First Edition; FEATURES; Pg. 43

The Russian Revolution is alive and kicking and taking place in a pub theatre in Islington, north London. Russian National Mail, by Oleg Bogaev, is the flagship production of the Sputnik Theatre company, which aims to bring new Russian writing to the British stage. Their opening production focuses on Bogaev, part of the new wave of Ekaterinburg-based playwrights who emerged after the dissolution of the USSR in 1991.

Russian National Mail, winner of a prestigious Golden Mask award in Russia, is an epistolary play with a difference. Our hero is Ivan Sidorovich, a destitute widower who fills his days by writing letters, first to dead friends and then, increasingly, to an astonishing array of people he has never met, from Queen Elizabeth II and Vivien Leigh to Lenin and Yuri Gagarin.

As Ivan stumbles towards delirium and death, writing and reading letters of which he is both writer and recipient, the audience is plunged into his fantasy correspondence as these figures appear in Ivan's home. In a typically Soviet detail, they have descended on Ivan to squabble over who will inherit his squalid lodgings.

Kevin McMonagle gives a convincing, tragicomic performance as Ivan. His downfall is attributed to the death of his wife, portrayed in the affecting opening scenes by a strikingly life-like puppet whose wooden-spoon arms and brown- paper body recall both her domestic duties and her professional role as a post-office worker.

In contrast, the supporting cast of characters are given little space to develop beyond caricature, although they attack their rather one-dimensional roles with zeal.

Just as Ivan wanders around his flat, plucking letters from inside drawers and off the floor, Bogaev, too, plunders the rich seam of great Russian literature. His play touches upon the eternal themes of the motherland's burdensome historical legacy, the post-Soviet obsession with accommodation, the small man's futile struggle against bureaucracy and, of course, madness " a mainstay of Russian writers, from Pushkin's delusional Evgeny in The Bronze Horseman to Gogol's countless anti-heroes.

Noah Birksted-Breen, the translator and director, retains this very Russian spirit while at the same time rendering the piece accessible to a British audience with his fresh, unstilted translation. All in all, a successful launch for Sputnik.

The Washington Times

September 17, 2004 Friday Bogaev's voice fresh at Studio BYLINE: By Jayne Blanchard, THE WASHINGTON TIMES SECTION: SHOW; THEATER; Pg. D08 LENGTH: 671 words

Whimsical, but bleak, 'Russian' gets a star turn from Floyd King

If Floyd King hasn't been declared a national treasure by now, then his bravura turn in "The Russian National Postal Service" should cement the deal. Known for his superb clowning, Mr. King imbues the role of a lonely Russian widower with gentle comedic shadings and a dexterous touch of melancholy.

Oleg Bogaev's 85-minute play, directed by Paul Mullins, bracingly kicks off Studio Theatre's season-long salute to Russian playwrights and authors.

Mr. Bogaev, at 34, is a fresh voice for those who think that country's theater begins and ends with Chekhov. The playwright is an integral part of a burgeoning theater center in Yekaterinburg, the Siberian city where the last czar and his family faced the violent end of their days.

Mr. Bogaev might represent the "new Russia," but in its black humor, his play retains vestiges of the old regime. As whimsical as the play can be, it is at heart a bleak look at a man who has lived to see the end of communism, only to find he has no vital place in post-Soviet Russia.

Mr. King plays Ivan Sidorovich Zhukov, a retired laborer living in a shabby one-room flat that appears untouched since Nikita Khrushchev banged his shoe. His late wife was a postal worker who apparently hoarded mail supplies, since the apartment is filled with dusty, Dr. Seuss-ian teetering stacks of envelopes, stationery and cardboard boxes.

Ivan spends his days in his bathrobe, occasionally playing Russian folk songs on the accordion and taking the odd nap. He lacks even a TV to numb him - it is broken, and since his government pension only covers food for one week out of the month, there is no money for repairs.

His life may be threadbare, but his imagination remains fertile. Ivan, a solitary figure who reminds you of the main character in Samuel Beckett's "Krapp's Last Tape," feverishly composes letters to long-lost comrades, the National Television Network, and the Kremlin. There are mash notes to Queen Elizabeth II (Catherine Flye), vigorous missives to Lenin (Tobin Atkinson), and chatty shout-outs to the Martians (Anthony Gallagher, Michael Wilson) and the bedbugs (Amy Couchoud, Stephen Notes). Leaving nothing to chance, he also writes the replies. Like Krapp, Ivan is kept alive by the sound of his own voice.

As Ivan drifts in and out of sleep, his pen pals fill the apartment until it is a dreamscape of aliens and vermin, with the occasional cosmonaut (John Collins), literary figure (Robinson Crusoe, played by Cecil Baldwin) or Russian leader (Scott McCormick, as Stalin) thrown in for good measure.

A play this surreal and sad depends on physical comedy, a gift Mr. King possesses in abundance. With his red-rimmed eyes and hollowed-out, rubbery face, Mr. King brings a weary grace to the character of Ivan, a magician who does his best work without an audience, with only his mind and a mirror to witness his conjuring.

The play requires subtlety, and Mr. King never overplays, instead uttering a delicate sigh of wonder every time he encounters a "new" letter, or executing a dandy variation on the spit-take when he drops his teacup in droll surprise.

Ivan's correspondents, including Miss Flye as the imperious, royally waving Queen Elizabeth and Mr. Atkinson as a peppery Lenin, are also deftly drawn.

"The Russian National Postal Service" may sound like an inspiring tribute to the power of the imagination, but Mr. Bogaev's play undercuts any sappiness with a pervasive sense of emptiness and obsolescence. Ivan is inventive, but he is scratching against the walls of his cell. Russia has moved on and left him behind. In the midst of vast change, Ivan's world grows smaller and smaller until he has nothing to hold onto but a stubby pencil.

WHAT: "The Russian National Postal Service" by Oleg Bogaev WHERE: Studio Theatre, 1333 P St. NW WHEN: 8 p.m. Wednesdays through Saturdays, 2 p.m. Saturdays and Sundays, 7 p.m. Sundays. Through Oct. 17.

The Gazette (Montreal, Quebec)

What's On SOURCE: The Gazette SECTION: ARTS & LIFE, Pg. D6 LOAD-DATE: October 11, 2001 (may not be pub date?)

La Poste Populaire Russe by Oleg Bogaev, at 8 p.m. at Espace Go, 4890 St. Laurent Blvd. Call (514) 845-4890.

The Gazette (Montreal, Quebec) -- later

Theatre, Comedy and Dance SOURCE: The Gazette SECTION: ENTERTAINMENT: PREVIEW, Pg. D9

La Poste Populaire Russe, by Oleg Bogaev, Plays Dec. 6-7 at 8 P.M. at Jean-Louis Millette, Theatre De La Ville, 150 Gentilly St. E. in Longueuil. Cost: $25. (450) 670-1616. LOAD-DATE: November 30, 2001

Awards

The Guardian (London) - Final Edition August 20, 2005 The Guide: PREVIEW theatre: Russian National Mail LONDON BYLINE: mark cook SECTION: The Guide, Pg. 38 LENGTH: 127 words

New Russian writing rarely gets an airing in this country (and sometimes not even in its native land), making this British premiere of a play by popular Russian playwright Oleg Bogaev, who won a Golden Mask award for Russian National Mail when it was staged in Russia, rather special. Ivan Sidorovich is an eccentric widowed pensioner who decides to write letters to Lenin, Stalin, Elizabeth I and his dead friends - and finds, bizarrely, that they reply. It sounds like a classically absurd Russian comedy and is presented by Sputnik Theatre, a British company highlighting plays that are overlooked here or in Russia. The translation is by Sputnik founder Noah Birksted-Breen and it stars Kevin McMonagle.

Washington post interview w/ director

The Washington Post September 12, 2004 Sunday Final Edition The Volga, the Potomac & a Confluence of Events BYLINE: Nelson Pressley, Special to The Washington Post SECTION: Sunday Arts; N06

...skipped beginning of article... "Here I am at the Moscow Art Theatre; that's called a dream come true," Zinoman intones. She's pointing out one of the photos she's gathered for display; later will come her impressive collection of everyday Russian stuff from stamps and paper to packs of cigarettes and pulpy teen magazines.

What clinched Zinoman on the Russian idea was the new energy and freedom in the writing, something she began to follow almost two years ago after making contact with John Freedman, an American-born critic in Moscow. For much of the last century, playwrights were constrained by the Soviet system and directors grew adept at cramming subversion into conventional texts. But new writers have emerged in the years since the fall of communism, the monumental change of which is expressed in the Freedman-translated "Russian National Postal Service."

"He's a very Chekhovian character," Zinoman says of the script's lonely retiree, a man who seems to be searching desperately for his country. (Floyd King plays the role.) "The play could be a slapstick comedy, which it was in the commercial production [in Moscow], or it could be a very furious drama. I see it as a transitional play between the old Russian writing, where you have this great character and warmth and all that, and the more fantastic playing with style of the new writing."

The post-Soviet country has been vulnerable to chaos, from the so-called "gangster capitalism" that emerged in the 1990s and continues today (witness the murder this summer of Forbes magazine's Paul Klebnikov) to the recent siege at a school in Beslan, a horrific event that has thrust Russia to the front of the news. Unrest ripples through "Postal Service" and "Black Milk," a play about scuzzy young rip-off artists, and the relevance of "Terrorism" -- written before 9/11 and taking a rather unusual angle on the topic -- is all too clear.

Still, Zinoman was a bit surprised to find a Moscow that sometimes ran counter to the prevalent Wild West impressions that dominate the headlines.

"Don't get me wrong," she says. "I'm not saying it's not a place of struggle. I'm saying it's a place of energy and vigor, that I was never afraid."

And the theaters were packed.

"If there is any people in the world that can write for the theater, it's Russians," she believes. "And I think that maybe not now, but maybe in 10 or 15 years, you're going to see some major writing coming out of Russia. How can you not? There is so much new writing, so much new work, from this giant country."

But will this program be too alien for Washington audiences? Zinoman doesn't think so. International curiosity comes naturally to a lot of people here, and she points out that the area even has at least a couple of Russian theaters.

Her first answer to the "too foreign" question, though, is a little less on-the-nose.

"We're very ambivalent about this amazing renovation," Zinoman says. "On the one hand, we're very proud. On the other hand, we want to make sure that we remember why we're doing this is not to build buildings. So in a way, doing something that's very ambitious artistically is an antidote to make sure we remember that the purpose here is to have a space to do the work, to have a community of artists to do the work."

Cited as a friend and influence

source: Frankfurter Rundschau date: 16. Mai 2003 article title: "Ich habe es satt, Jahr für Jahr dieselben Charaktere anzusehen" ; Wassilij Sigarew wünscht sich eine Literatur, die vom Leben lernt - sein Stück "Plastilin" eröffnet heute Abend die Wiesbadener Wartburg AUTOR: KIRSTEN LIESE (interview)

excerpt, translated by babelfish: q:Nur wenige Schriftsteller können allein von ihrer Kunst leben. Sind Sie jemals einer anderen Arbeit nachgegangen? t:Only few writers can live alone of their art. Did you ever attend to another work?

a:Als ich zu schreiben begann, habe ich als Wachmann in einer Fabrik gearbeitet. Jetzt arbeite ich bei der Zeitschrift Ural, wo ich pro Monat 50 Dollar verdiene. Es geht mir dort aber nicht um das Geld, sondern um den menschlichen Umgang. Auch meine Freunde arbeiten dort, der Dramaturg Oleg Bogaev und mein Lehrer Nikolaj Koljada. Der Kontakt zu ihnen bedeutet mir viel. t: When I began to write, I had worked as a guard in a factory. Now I work at the magazine the Urals, where I per month earn 50 dollar. It concerns to me there however not the money, but human handling. There also my friends work, the Dramaturg Oleg Bogaev and my teacher Nikolaj Koljada. The contact to them means me much.

as a student of Nikolai Kolyada

The first production I saw by Kolyada-the-director was The Russian National Postal Service, a play by Oleg Bogaev, one of the first and best-known students to graduate from Kolyada’s playwriting course at the Yekaterinburg State Theatre Institute. In it, the actor playing an increasingly unhinged old pensioner who has bones to pick with his government, his life, and the age that history caused him to live in, stalked the stage with cotton balls stuck in almost every orifice in his head—his mouth, his ears, and his nose. Like similar aspects of The Inspector General and Tenderness, it wasn’t a pretty sight.