Dmitry Krymov staged the play “Fragment” in Klaipeda

Dmitry Krymov staged the play “Fragment” in Klaipeda, a variation on the theme of the third act of Chekhov’s “Three Sisters”. As part of the Sirenos festival, which this year celebrates its 20th anniversary, I watched the performance Alla Shenderova.

There is a moment in “Fragment” when in a few seconds the stagehands dismantle an entire entrance – what seemed unshakable disappears quickly and silently. A second of emptiness – and from the depths of the stage a huge, dilapidated room with a hanging chandelier comes towards the hall. The size and speed with which it approaches, as if growing before our eyes, pose a threat. This is what happens in memory. Some kind of picture appears, and you don’t immediately remember what it is and where it comes from, but it doesn’t go away until it crowds out everything else from your consciousness. And now I can’t think about anything but her.

Everyone feels the loss of their home differently, some don’t feel it at all at first. The picture just flashes in my memory. Over time, it becomes clearer, larger – this is how the past begins to crowd out the present. Longing for a house that is deteriorating before our eyes or that has long ceased to exist is one of Chekhov’s main themes. Chekhov scholars know how strongly this is connected with the life of the writer himself, and even say that his plays are “for those who have already lost something.”

Krymov’s “Fragment” refers to a specific scene in “Three Sisters” – the fire in the third act. But this is not the same fire, rather a reflection of it: this is a sequel to Chekhov’s play, the action of which continues in our time.

The stage is occupied by an old entrance in the Art Nouveau style, with an old elevator in the center. In houses – brownies, in elevators – elevators. The little old man who lives in the elevator cabin will become noticeable only once, but this will only prove that both the elevator and the entrance live their own lives. From above you can hear the jump and knock of a ball – it’s a girl in sneakers running downstairs (maybe Irina?). An old man comes out of a side apartment with a dog under his arm. While he slowly reaches for the elevator button, the elevator decides to go down: apparently, the ball has been walked, and the girl pressed the button. This happens over and over again. There are no words in this part, the movements are precise down to the second, so it is almost a ballet in the style of, say, Matthew Bourne, who adores old houses, luxurious Victorian living rooms and muscular ballet bodies. In Krymov’s drama ballet, the furnishings are shabby, and the bodies are hidden by baggy clothes. There is also something else that cannot be immediately determined: while the heroes are running up and down, the space is filled with a hum. What is this – the spirit of the house, alarmed by a premonition? Or the approaching disaster itself?

“Shortly before my father’s death, there was a buzzing in the chimney. That’s exactly it,” says Masha in “Three Sisters.” The heroes of “Fragment” do not hear the buzzing. But a nondescript girl with string bags suddenly starts sniffing – the neighbor catches her – on all fours, running her nose under someone else’s door. But as soon as the girl, embarrassed, disappears behind her own door, the stage workers dismantle the entrance into pieces. Was – and is not.

Having long celebrated their centenary and not recognizing boundaries, Chekhov’s plays themselves choose where and in whom to be embodied. The spirit of the living room in the house of the Prozorov sisters clearly infused the set designed by set designer Irina Komissarova and her assistant Anna Titova-Tubash. The girl with the string bags is clearly Olga. Only now she is a dance teacher and her name is Samantha (more precisely, Samantha Pinaityte, the characters in the play are named after the actors). She takes off her ugly shoes and woolen socks and starts up the gramophone. And suddenly it turns out that in a room where there is no room for her due to old floor lamps and bulky furniture, a ballerina reigns. But she dances, still sniffing. And, of course, smoke and reddish reflections will soon burst into the room.

Samantha will rush to the neighbors screaming. And he will begin to throw a bunch of things at them – either to bring to the fire victims, or trying to take everything out of the burning house. The apotheosis is the episode in which an almost naked, soot-covered Samantha hangs on a chandelier, trying to tear it off and carry it out – the room is filled with smoke, and stagehands try in vain to catch her and take her away.

In the third part, the heroes shocked by the fire will speak. As usual with Krymov – in clumsy, today’s language, but, of course, for a reason. Samantha, who has swallowed smoke, will choke on her cough, and the elegant lady, as if not noticing this, will begin to talk to the public about the need to help refugees and fire victims. This is Natasha from Three Sisters, but her name is different here. Actor Darius Meskauskas, who lifted Samantha into his arms and called out to the doctor in the hall because he himself forgot how to treat him, is clearly Chebutykin. As a result, they will choose an original remedy for treatment – they will cover the door with a sheet of paper and show Samantha her favorite film – “Embankment of Fogs” with Jean Gabin and Michelle Morgan. And a lot more will happen. And maybe this third part, full of typical Krymov camp, will seem too wordy. However, maybe the point is that they play in Lithuanian.