The Music of Pain

Sudarushka /Miss/, pg. 10
By Viktor Denisov


[Excerpts]

…The show is staged, as they say, “for an actress.“ Ten years ago Ginkas-the-elder saw Pushkin in the actor [Viktor] Gvozditsky, who really doesn't look much like the great poet, and he staged the unique miniature, “Pushkin and Nathalie.” Much in „K. I.” is reminiscent of that completely unique production. No, not in the sense that the director repeated himself. And not even in the fact that the show is a one-actress show (not counting the children). But primarily because of the brilliant work of the actress who is almost on a par with the virtuosic technique of Gvozditsky.
…I have kept silent up to now about the name of the actress who plays “K. I.“ because I want to speak about her in detail. Ginkas's talent as a director has long been no secret, but not many, I wager, know Oksana Mysina. That is because she worked in the theater “Moderne,“ which is not familiar to the broad public. She acquired some fame (including in the United States) playing the role of Yelena Sergeyevna in the play by Razumovskaya.
Then, last season, under the leadership of Boris Lvov-Anokhin, the actress shone in “The Aspern Papers.” The critics praised her Tina very highly.
In Ginkas's production, Mysina reveals her unique talent even more fully. I am certain that if we were to put a mask on her, it would still only take a few seconds to recognize the actress. Why? First, because of her incomparable physical make-up. She is large with extremely long arms which she frequently waves like a bird its wings. She is awkward, with a sweeping gait. And how much movement there is in her! She runs quickly, jumps, stands on one leg, and repeatedly flings her purse down on the floor. The finale is simply a miracle: Like a circus actress she swings as if on a trapeze and rises to the heavens. Her singing and performing on the violin are entirely professional. And she doesn't do only Russian folk songs, she can do the classics as well. And then there are her facial expressions. The actress plays without make-up and the spectators sitting next to her can see every nuance: It is a lively face in which the mad, skittering eyes may suddenly become dead and indifferent.
Thus, the external picture is very colorful. But what about the internal side? Or is the actress just „making believe?” Not in the least. We would not sympathize with a clown show no matter how talented it might be. And there seems to be no end to the amount of „tricks” she has up her sleeve! We would just watch, be impressed and would leave untouched. But here, after the show is over, the entire hall greets the actress with a standing ovation that lasts several minutes!!! You don't see that often. That means she got to you. Her spectator believed her, just as she is, without any logic, with instant transformations from hysterics to prostration, from prayer to screams. And, if you draw out the metaphor, from the icon to the axe, like any Russian woman can behave if driven to despair. And that is not only in the novels of Dostoevsky.
«I'll go down to the swift river,
And sit on the steep bank…»
is what the Marmeladovs [K. I. and her three children] play and sing. Maybe that's because there's nothing else you can do when all has become intolerable?
The heroine suffers pain like every Russian woman suffers pain these days (in fact, almost all the time). Their fate is only slightly better than that of Katerina Ivanovna. And whether you want to or not, you feel that pain. You chase it away but it stays with you for long after the curtain falls. But that is what Kama Ginkas and Oksana Mysina wanted. Why? It's simple: If you can begin to feel another's pain, that means there is hope. The hope of remaining human.

, 7-02-1995