Part I
Introduction
1 On Vakhtangovâs Work and Writings
Prologue
Russian-Armenian director Yevgeny Bogrationovich Vakhtangov was born on February 13, 1883, in the Russian provincial city of Vladikavkaz (currently the capital of the Russian Republic of North Ossetia-Alaniaâthe neighboring region of the ongoing RussianâGeorgian and Chechen conflicts). Like Konstantin Treplev from Anton Chekhovâs The Seagull, nineteen-year-old Vakhtangov arranged his first theatre outdoors; an open stage merged with the mountainous landscape of the Caucasus. Vakhtangovâs production of Chekhovâs short comedies âbegan before dark and ended by the time the sun set downâ (Vakhtangova 1959: 334). It breathed in unison with the natural rhythms.
Vakhtangovâs Heritage and Contemporary Theatrical Practices
In 1955, Michael Chekhov (1891â1955), an actor still considered as Russiaâs greatest twentieth-century talent, delivered one of his final lectures to a group of Hollywood actors. The subject of the lecture, entitled âOn Five Great Russian Directorsâ, was personal to Chekhov. In it he spoke of his mentors, contemporaries, colleagues, and friends: Konstantin Stanislavsky (1863â1938), Vladimir Nemirovich-Danchenko (1858â1943), Alexander Tairov (1885â1950), Vsevolod Meyerhold (1874â1940), and Yevgeny Vakhtangov. He spoke of them in that particular order, saving Vakhtangov for last, thereby placing him at the top of the pyramid:
Now, this combination of Nemirovich and Stanislavsky was also taken by Vakhtangov. He always found, very easily too [like Nemirovich], this main line, this scaffolding [of the performance], and he took from Stanislavsky the human, warm-heart[ed] feelings, emotions, atmosphere â brought them together. Vakhtangov was, as it were, a vessel into which all the positive things came. Not that he robbed them [Nemirovich and Stanislavsky] of their good qualities. It was his genius, Vakhtangovâs genius; he just quickly, naturally swallowed it, digested it. So, he was a kind of vessel, as I say, where all the positive things of this period of the Russian theatre of which I am talking were accumulated, amalgamated in his own way, in Vakhtangovâs way.
⊠And these things, coming from Stanislavsky, Nemirovich, Tairov, Meyerhold, apparently can be combined. And Vakhtangov did combine them; he brought them together â these extreme and seemingly irreconcilable things â he brought them together ⊠Vakhtangov showed us that everything can be brought together, amalgamated and a new product â very beautiful, very wonderful, very deep, and very light, and very mathematically clever and humanly bright â it can be done.
(Vinyl audio record; Bakhrushin State Central Theatre Museum; HB 4904/17)
That statement Michael Chekhov made more than half a century ago still rings true today. Out of the five great Russian directors of the first half of the twentieth century, Vakhtangov remains the most relevant. Vakhtangovâs work considerably affected twentieth-century theatrical practices. The concepts that todayâs theatre artists continue to experiment with, explore, and consider were all approached by Vakhtangov in an unorthodox and highly individual way. Moreover, many of the paradoxes and dilemmas of the theatrical art were resolved by Vakhtangov in the final two years of his short creative life.
In his 1922 production of Carlo Gozziâs1 Princess Turandot Vakhtangov brought an actorâs point of view on his or her character into the foreground, foreshadowing the Brechtian principle of âalienation.â In Turandot, as well as in other productions he directed at his own studio, Vakhtangov interpreted the problem of an actorâs improvisational freedom versus formal discipline, and paved the way for Jerzy Grotowski (1933â1999).2 In his productions, Vakhtangov also anticipated Grotowski in his approach to such theatrical aspects as âactâ and âritualâ.
The Dybbuk, directed by Vakhtangov at the Habima Studio, made the critics speak of the Theatre of Cruelty before the time of Antonin Artaud (1896â1948). For example, Russian critic and scholar Nikolai Volkov3 wrote, in 1922, âIn The Dybbuk Vakhtangov demonstrated how cruel his talent was, how dear the beauty of ugliness was to his soulâ (Volkov 1922: 20). Contemporary Russian scholar, Vladislav Ivanov, wrote on The Dybbuk, âVakhtangovâs cosmic ecstasies did not just anticipate Antonin Artaudâs âcosmic trance.â They also had an indisputable advantage before the fantasies and incantations of the French theatreâs poet, as they came fully armed with theatrical means, realized in the artâs matterâ (1999: 96).
Michael Chekhov, according to his own admission, took notes of Vakhtangovâs talks and rehearsals; he was influenced by Vakhtangovâs concept of rhythm and gesture. The influence in this case was mutual, as Vakhtangov arrived at some of his own conclusions studying the work of Chekhov, the actor.
Edward Gordon Craig (1872â1966) and Max Reinhardt (1873â1943) praised Vakhtangovâs productions in the press.4 Bertolt Brecht (1898â1956) and Jerzy Grotowski carefully studied Vakhtangovâs heritage. Grotowski, who trained in Moscow under Vakhtangovâs disciple Yuri Zavadsky (1894â1977), frequently mentioned Vakhtangov in his lectures. Peter Brook saw the revival of Princess Turandot in Moscow.5 Among those who feature Vakhtangov in their writings are Lee Strasberg (1901â 1982), Eugenio Barba, and David Mamet. One way or another, through agreement or disagreement, direct or indirect influence, Vakhtangovâs heritage is present in the works of these masters. As for Vakhtangovâs elder colleagues and mentors, such as Konstantin Stanislavsky, Vladimir Nemirovich-Danchenko, and Vsevolod Meyerholdâall of them acknowledged Vakhtangovâs outstanding contributions to the art of theatre, as well as his influence on their own work.6
Because of Vakhtangovâs lack of interest in theories not supported in practice, his own theoretical conclusion always followed the creation of a practical model. In his final productions, staged within the last two years of his short life, Vakhtangov created the practical model for his method of fantastic realism. As for the method itself, Vakhtangov did not have time to write it down, or to explain it fully. The key texts on fantastic realism, featured in the sourcebook, such as Discussions with Students (April 1922) and All Saintsâ Notes (March 1921), provide us with a limited understanding of Vakhtangovâs concept. This introduction is a partial reconstruction of Vakhtangovâs method of fantastic realism, based on his own writings, memoirs by the colleagues, audience recollections, critical reviews and scholarly works on Vakhtangov, and my experience of training at the Vakhtangov School in Moscow, as well as my own research and practices. Last, but not least, this reconstruction would not be possible if not for my fortune to work directly with two of Vakhtangovâs students: Vera Lâvova (1898â1985) and, my mentor in theatre, Aleksandra Remizova (1903â1989).
Vakhtangovâs Theory of Creative Perception
Vakhtangov and the Stanislavsky System
Anyone writing on the Stanislavsky System is bound to encounter one significant difficulty: the theory, as outlined in Stanislavskyâs writings, was seldom followed in teaching practices. This is true of the two original and most trusted disciples of Stanislavskyâs: his close friend and associate, Leopold Sulerzhitsky (1872â1916), and Sulerzhitskyâs student Yevgeny Vakhtangov. Out of all directors and teachers associated with the Moscow Art Theatre (MAT),7 Stanislavsky only considered these two leaders capable of surpassing Nemirovich-Danchenko and himself at the MATâs helm.8 Both Sulerzhitsky and Vakhtangov taught Stanislavskyâs technique at the First Studio of the MAT. Vakhtangov, who became extremely popular as both a director and teacher outside of the MAT, gave himself generously to numerous Moscow theatre collectives. By doing so, Vakhtangov often incurred the wrath of both Stanislavsky and Sulerzhitsky.
Leopold Sulerzhitsky died in 1916, and Vakhtangov outlived him by only six yearsâhe died on May 29, 1922, at the age of thirty-nine. Later that year Stanislavsky established the MAT School. With both Sulerzhitsky and Vakhtangov gone, Stanislavsky turned to the third and only remaining teacher of his technique who he trusted: Nikolai Demidov.9 Stanislavskyâs letter to Demidov, written on the occasion, featured bitter words on Vakhtangov:
I am doomed!
I worked with Vakhtangov; he gave me a lot of trouble. They did not recognize him, tried to sack him from the theatre; at the endâhe was lured to teach in one place, promised to direct at another; he worked nights at the Habima Studio; as for meâin his entire life he only found 2 evenings to work together on Salieri.10
Whatever I do, whatever I prepareâthey tear it from my fingers, and I am left with nothing.
(Stanislavsky 1999: 54)
This passionate cry was meant as a reproach to Demidov whose initial reception of Stanislavskyâs offer to head the MAT School was restrained. Demidov responded to Stanislavskyâs plea and accepted the position. The results he achieved with the students made Stanislavsky proclaim, two years later, âOur school, prepared by Demidov, must carry God in itâ (Stanislavsky 1999: 167). As for Demidov himself, in his book Actor Types, he made the following peculiar confession:
If Konstantin Sergeyevich [Stanislavsky] did practice pedagogy, he only did so in the course of rehearsals, in passing: it was done to help the actor bring to life a particular moment of the role. He never taught Schoolâthere was no time. His students taught it, starting with Sulerzhitsky and Vakhtangov. For Stanislavsky it was simply impossible to perform consistent and regular control over results achieved by the methods he proposed, as well as the outcomes of the program as a whole.
As for the teachersâ work, sometimes it brought good results, sometimes bad ⊠Why?
Perhaps, because one teacher applied their talent to the âsystem,â anotherâdid not.
Somehow, it came as a matter of fact that, in the case of a teacherâs failure, no one ever asked the question: perhaps, the imperfection of the method is to blame?
And in the case of success, no one ever asked: perhaps, the teacher, except for using the established methods, also used some other methods of their own, sometimes without noticing it?
(Demidov 2004a: 392â393)
Alexander Adashev (1871â1934), a MAT character actor, organized a private acting school in Moscow, where Vakhtangov studied from August 1909 to March 1911. The MATâs leading actors, such as Vasily Kachalov (1875â1948) and Vasily Luzhsky (1869â1931), taught at the Adashev School. Even at the most progressive Russian acting schools or conservatories of the period, students spent most of their time studying parts. The teacher, instead of providing training for specific skills and qualities essential to an actor, would see his or her duty as imposing their own way of acting particular roles on the students. Vsevolod Meyerhold, who trained at the Philharmonic Societyâs Drama School under Nemirovich-Danchenko, wrote down the following quotation from the French actress Rachel in his 1897 student notebook: âFor those with no talent, Conservatory will polish their facilities and make them decent actors; it will kill every talent, however, as it forces them to act its own wayâ (Maikov 1896: 3, cited in Meyerhold 1998: 135).
Among the Adashev School teachers, Sulerzhitsky stood out because of his involvement with the newly developed Stanislavsky System. The starting point of Stanislavskyâs methodological journey was based in the organic creative nature. The organic principles of the creative process conducive to revealing an actorâs creative individualityâsuch was the platform Stanislavsky shared with Sulerzhitsky. Vakhtangov, a natural-born director and actor possessing the inborn feeling of truth, accepted Sulerzhitskyâs principles as unshakable; they were in perfect harmony with Vakhtangovâs own genetic makeup as an artist.
The Creative Individuality
In March 1911, Vakhtangov, who served as prototype for the student Nazvanov, the narrator of Stanislavskyâs An Actorâs Work (also known as An Actor Prepares), made his near stenographic record of Stanislavskyâs first talk to the MAT youth. Two other talks followed; in Vakhtangovâs notes we find the Stanislavsky Systemâs goal, as defined by Stanislavsky himself: âto cultivate in students, abilities and qualities which help them to free their creative individualityâan individuality imprisoned by prejudices and clichĂ©sâ (Zakhava 1930: 23).
So, what is this mysterious creative individuality, not featured in Stanislavskyâs major writings, and, most importantly, what are the means of getting in touch with it? Leopold Sulerzhitsky had this to say on the subject:
All the intense work of the contemporary director ⊠concentrates in helping the actor to discover his own self or, as they put it, help him âexpressâ his personality to its inmost depth, and separate in his work what actually represents his true individuality from everything generic and theatrical, from the so called âtone.â Although one actorâs tone is unlike the other actorsâ, it has nothing to do with their true individuality. Several beloved âtonesâ (this actor has two, the otherâthree or six) are always in every actorâs arsenal. At times the actor is empty, the role does not want to submit; yet they have to speak and act it all the same. In this case, some âtone,â or a combination of tones, immediately comes to the rescue. This conventional manner, this tone can be quite pleasant in some actors, and, in the majority of cases, the press and the audience take it for individuality, as it differs with every actor; at the same time, its inner makeup is always the same.
In actuality, this acted mannerism is the fiercest enemy of the individualized experience.
(Sulerzhitsky 1970: 319)
Sulerzhitskyâs speeches and writings contain only hints of the organic means that can be utilized in order to inspire a true individualized experience in an actor. And, yet, Sulerzhitsky maintained that without this individualized emotional experience, an actor couldnât transform, or live creatively. Unless an actor engages in this highly personal an...