vlad.tribnet.com / Issue #155 / Arts and Ideas / Reading article...

The concept of a play within a play is hardly new, dating back at least to Shakespeare’s “Hamlet”, and until we saw the Gorky Drama Theater’s “Mafiosi”, we had never considered the inherent risks in such a production.

At first glance “Mafiosi”, directed by Yefim Zvenyatsky, appears promising. A gang of mobsters bully a provincial theater company into performing the opera “Carmen” in order to lure a rival don from seclusion; they hope to kill him.

Such a conceit would seem, in theory at least, perfect for a town like Vladivostok, where even the mayor says gangsterism is the law of the land. On top of that, everyone loves the famous opera by Georges Bizet.

The trouble is, “Mafiosi” stumbles on both counts. It shies away from references to local mafia — a decision that deflates this production, imbuing it with all the social relevance of a high school production of “The Music Man.” And the snatches of “Carmen” that sprinkle the play only served as mournful reminders of how superior the opera is to this grab-bag of song and dance.

True, the comparison isn’t really fair. “Mafia” isn’t intended to be a stuffy piece of theatrical art enjoyed only by bejeweled ladies peering through opera glasses. It’s a giant cartoon, filled with miked singing, clumsy chorus lines, and exuberantly bad acting. You become intimately familiar with the shape and dimension of the Alexander Slavsky’s bald pate (he plays the Director) because of his habit of grasping his temples and bending forward in a sort of anguished bow whenever things go wrong.

The real director, Zvenyatsky, provides helpful hints to his audience through costuming: He dresses his mafia families in negative version of each other’s outfits. Thus one group of mobsters wears black coats and white pants, but they end up looking like British naval officers or millionaire playboys heading out to their yachts for the afternoon. The other gangsters, wearing white coats and black pants, are every bit as menacing as the family doctor. All the gangsters wear broad-brimmed hats that would go over well at a bar in West Texas.

Zvenyatsky spices things up with racy acting. Hollywood, of course, has long operated on the notion that viewers yearn to climb under the covers with sweaty, grappling actors. But somehow it is even more awkward to watch this sort of thing live on stage (even if the actors are clothed). When Slavsky’s offers a goofy grin as he mounts the actress Beatriche (Larisa Belobrova) atop the piano, you find yourself thinking more about the performers than their characters. Are you guys enjoying yourselves? If so, could you take it backstage somewhere and let us get on with the show?

Don Martinibianko (Nikolai Timoshenko) provides a break from the general buffoonery — a gangster with a grave dignity who sets the cast trembling whenever he shows up. But it’s hard to take him seriously as a menace, perhaps because the cast overacts and squeals like schoolgirls whenever he arrives.

The production culminates in a scene from “Carmen.” You are meant to laugh at the garish costumes and terrible acting of this company. But because the quality is exactly the same as the rest of the production, the joke falls flat.

The instrumental music in this scene (as in the rest of the show) is taped. Lucky thing. Turn it loud enough, and nobody will notice that the only people having fun are the ones galloping back and forth onstage.