Russian National Mail
The Sputnik Theatre production of Oleg Bogayev’s Russian National Mail was staged in the old Anatomy Theatre of King’s College. Exploiting the evocative quality of the Anatomy Theatre’s current dilapidated state, director Noah Birksted-Breen created a simple and atmospheric representation of a pensioner’s (Ivan) run-down flat somewhere in Russia. Through Ivan’s character, the play paints a picture of human loneliness and explores the pains of aging - themes which travel beyond national borders.
The audience discovers Ivan asleep on his old bunk-bed. Upon waking, he has an odd encounter with a puppet. Expertly handled by Darren East and Zoe Hunter, and lovingly crafted out of old paper bags and wooden spoons, the puppet sets out to explore this unusual human being. When it reappears at the very end of the piece – framing Ivan’s mad ramblings – the emotions carried in its movements seem more real than those of Ivan himself, almost as if Ivan is part of the puppet’s dream and not vice versa.
This pensioner is crazed enough to back these statements up. He communicates solely via letters to an increasingly absurd collection of people, from three old friends to Lenin, Queen Elizabeth II, his bedbugs, and Death itself. Throughout the evening, we never hear his voice in an unmediated form. He writes these strange letters, and then replies to himself. This indirectness demonstrates how distant we are from the precepts of the epistolary novel, which assumed that the letter can be a truthful outpouring of the heart. In contrast, the modern sentiment of Russian National Mail depicts a world of pure fantasy and wish fulfilment seemingly disconnected from Ivan’s reality. Its humour is both comic and tragic in the best Becketian manner. Ivan’s letters are absurd enough to laugh at, but also constantly hint at the tragedy underneath: his loneliness, and his abandonment by a state for which he risked his life in the Second World War and that now lets him starve in a cold room. Kevin McMonagle manages this tragicomic balance perfectly – his eyes are as indirect as his words, constantly gazing at a different world.
Ivan’s fantasies are his only escape from misery. Darren East and Zoe Hunter play Lenin and Queen Elizabeth II, the main representatives of the pensioner’s daydreams, with necessary zest and verve. Their carefully controlled exaggeration sets these characters apart from Ivan’s everyday misery, and also adds another layer of humour of the piece. Moreover, the two actors are able to evoke the presence of other fantastical characters with the simplest of ingredients. The cosmonaut Gargarin is represented by a metal sieve resembling a UFO, and a broom stick stands in for Stalin’s moustache. All of these dreamlike moments are intensified by the use of Hans Bjorn Lian’s original music, which in its light, ironic, and commenting quality reminded me of Nina Rota’s compositions for Fellini’s extravaganzas
Director Noah Birksted-Breen shows in his use of music, puppetry, and acting with mime-like precision, a focused vision and tight control of theatrical possibilities above and beyond showy technical effects. His eye for detail is remarkable. One example is in the letters Ivan pens before the audience: they are all blank, written with a blunt pencil. A clear sign that it is all in the character’s head. Perhaps even too clear – is it possible that Ivan, aware of the futility of his deeds on some subconscious level, actually longs for some sort of ‘reality’, even if it is only the tangible lead of a written letter? And why was the only letter with writing on it the one from Hitler’s bastard son? Did the director want to imply that this character is somehow more substantial than the others? These are all minor conceptional queries and should not distract from the plays many merits.
This production of Russian National Mail is stripped to the bones in terms of staging, but at the same time much richer in feeling than most of the bigger productions I have seen in the last couple of months.
For further information on Sputnik Theatre, visit the company’s website here.











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