PART I
Theatre Communities: Traces, Places and Belonging
Communal Solidarity and Amateur Theatre in Post-Revolutionary Russia: Theoretical Approaches
Stefan Aquilina
Modern theatre and performance in Russia was not only marked by the groundbreaking practices developed by professional practitioners like Konstantin Stanislavsky and Vsevolod Meyerhold. A parallel movement developed within amateur theatre circles that, though at the margins of the scene in turn-of-the-twentieth-century Russia, evidenced a marked increase in numbers and activity after the October Revolution of 1917. Workers, not only in the main cities like Moscow and Petrograd/Leningrad but also across the country, relished the public voice that theatre offered. The inroads that the workers had made by 1922 were proudly and positively trumpeted by Platon Kerzhentsev, a leading figure in early post-revolutionary debates on the nature of proletarian art and community theatre, to which he contributed through several theoretical writings that culminated in the publication and extensive revision of his book Tvorchesky Teatr (The Creative Theatre) (Keržencev [1922] 1979).1 A central chapter in this book is ‘The results of the new theatre’, where Kerzhentsev gives a broad review of the scene while showing a clear and biased identification towards amateur theatre. For example, at one point Kerzhentsev says: ‘The experience derived from the past two years [1918–20] has taught us that the revolutionary creativity of the popular masses in the fields of the arts is capable of achieving major victories’ (Keržencev [1922] 1979: 97). However, underneath this romantic championing, one can find a number of examples that shed light on the practices adopted by the workers in creating their theatre pieces. One such description of an amateur production runs as follows:
A dramatic text that treated the theme of the revolution was collectively created by the workers, the majority of whom had never set foot in a theatre before. One particular scene depicted the workers bringing down a wall that represented the old times. As the actors onstage shouted and hurled themselves against the wall, the spectators instinctively stood up as one from their seats to help the actors in their struggle. The victorious notes of the Internationale were played when the wall was destroyed, to which the whole hall participated.
(Keržencev [1922] 1979: 97)
A danger when studying amateur theatre in post-revolutionary Russia is to draw general statements and conclusions on a movement that was marked by endless diversity. Performance forms like revolutionary melodramas, concert-meetings, living newspapers and agit-trials were at different stages, in the late 1910s and throughout the 1920s, among the most popular examples of amateur practice. However, two qualities do emerge from Kerzhentsev’s example that recur in both the literature of the time and more recent secondary studies, to the extent that they can be treated as characteristic features of the scene.2 First, amateur theatre can be seen to have developed in communities localized around spaces like the workplace (e.g. a factory), entertainment and pedagogical environments (i.e. the workers’ clubs) or neighbourhoods. Tangible space, therefore, was an important contributor in the creation of theatre communities.3 Kerzhentsev described this theatre as ‘a theatre of the proletariat’ rather than ‘a theatre for the proletariat’, a theatre in other words that not only sought to stage themes of interest to the workers but which was also ‘built on the creativity of the nation’s lowest strata’ (Keržencev [1922] 1979: 35), with actors who tended their machines during the day and created theatre in the evening. Second, amateur theatre workers relied on their own collective creativity and ingenuity as a substitute for the most basic theatre resources like light, stage, formal texts, costumes, scenery and so on, resources that they often lacked. This practice was common enough to give post-revolutionary amateur theatre the title of samodeiatel’nost teatr, i.e. ‘do-it-yourself theatre’.4
This essay has two tightly connected aims. First, it analyses post-revolutionary amateur theatre as a form of community theatre, one that was as much about the broader (revolutionary) context as it was about local situations, and in which public and private political spheres intertwined in an act that, even and particularly so in Russia, was always kept under the authorities’ vigilant eyes. Such a composition of seemingly binary elements (public/private spheres, individual/group and control/creativity) nods towards the second aim of the essay, which tackles how recent and contemporary historiographical approaches are articulated as a tension between concrete archival research and that which is seemingly its opposite, i.e. the imaginative interpretation of the scholar. The essay will place critical theory at the intersection between historiographical rigour and imagination, and will offer one case study of such theoretical application, namely how Michel de Certeau’s theories on ‘strategies’ and ‘tactics’ facilitate our understanding of post-revolutionary amateur theatre. I will attempt this theorizing by referring to Lynn Mally’s seminal work on post-revolutionary Russian amateur theatre (Mally 2000). I will discuss methods that Mally uses to support her argumentation and draw attention to a particular moment when de Certeau’s theories would have supported her interpretation of the political significance of amateur theatre.
Aesthetics and Production Processes of the Amateur Theatre
The ‘strength’ of amateur theatre in post-revolutionary Russia can be located in the collective practices used to make do with a general lack of resources: in the words of one contemporary writer, amateur theatres ‘did not have a tenth of the resources of the high theatrical culture, of the technique, craftsmanship or finance which had been at the disposal of the old timers’ (Rudnitsky 1988: 46). Similarly, contemporary chronicler Nina Gourfinkel emphasized in her account on the scene the crude but often ingenious practices of amateur actors.5 One example she gives revolves around a collective piece titled Lenin, staged in 1926 by a group of workers who called themselves The Ship. Four main scenes, each representing an episode from Lenin’s life, were presented. These were: (1) Lenin’s arrival to St Petersburg; (2) the taking of power; (3) acts of aggression against Lenin and (4) the music of the Soviets. Means were scarce, and Gourfinkel noted how the production budget was only of 50 roubles (Gourfinkel 1979: 127–29). The illumination of the performance was a major problem as even the most basic light rigs were not available. Consequently, the actors held electric lamps in hand through which they illuminated their bodies and faces. Various parts of the stage were lit in the same way. Gourfinkel described the clever creation of the following scenes:
At the office. Six participants are standing, while another two are sitting in the background. The latter are bare-chested, and are moving in rhythm to a workers’ song which the actors are singing themselves. The lamps are only illuminating the heads and upper parts of their bodies, highlighting their well-built torsos. The lighting created a series of unsymmetrical shadows; it gave the impression of moving machines, of rotating wheels, and of a great number of workers.
The 1905 shooting. The workers are illuminated only for an instant, which gives the impression of people being shot and, consequently, falling to the ground. The stage was pitch-dark, while a pile of bodies were placed in a barely lit spot. One of the workers, the only one who was properly illuminated, detaches himself from the group and continues the action.
(Gourfinkel 1979: 128)
Musical effects were created through the use of a piano, harmonica and drums. A series of plates, brooms and paper sheets augmented these instruments. For example, the brooms were used to create the sound effect of a train entering a station, while the Aurora’s cannon shot was recreated through a strong drum hit. ‘Finally’, Gourfinkel wrote, ‘the resources used to create these various effects were put together to create the music of the Soviets’ (1979: 129).
What transpires from this example is that the community of ‘The Ship’ called upon their ingenuity and collective creativity to overstep the limited resources that were at their disposal. Even The Leningrad Theatre of Young Workers (TRAM), which was considered as a large-scale amateur group, showed a ‘lack of pretension, simplicity and unambiguous clarity of the theatrical form’ (Rudnitsky 1988: 204). This was most characteristic of their amateur years.6 For example, in Work Days (1926) actors performed on a tiny stage, wearing everyday clothes, and using very simple props such as a guitar, a bed, a table and a chair. Simple flats were used as a backdrop (see image in Mally 2000: 120). A bigger stage was used for The Thoughtful Dandy (1929), which was however conspicuous by its austerity (Mally 2000: 134). A similar austerity is to be noted in the production of The Shot, where simple wooden and unpainted flats represented a house; another scene only featured six ladders (see image in Rudnitsky 1988: 244).
Space offered similar challenges, and amateur theatre was to be found less in conventional theatre spaces and more in communal and shared spaces like street corners, squares, public gardens and the workers’ clubs. Huntly Carter mentions the improvised play The Mangy Dog, which he saw performed in a dark and stuffy cellar. This setting, however, did not stop the performance from making an impact on him (Carter 1929: 133). The lack of a fixed space allowed the groups to play on a newfound responsibility of bringing the theatre to the people, often performing on the same level of the spectators and choosing material shared by both actors and spectators. Gourfinkel gives the following example of street theatre:
[In 1920] an original experiment was attempted. Power cuts were common that year, and every time the power returned it was met by a widespread outburst of joy and cheering. Twelve trams travelled across the city through half devastated streets. They were equipped with open air platforms, and decorated in drapes and with painted canvas. They were transformed into mobile theatres. During the frequent power cuts, the actors, who had changed in the tram, took to the stages and gave short presentations of ten to fifteen minutes.
These experiments were developed in the subsequent years; in Leningrad alone, one could count three hundred mobile companies. A part of these companies travelled the city and mingled with the crowds. They either used platforms which had been prepared beforehand or acted on the streets or pavements, circled by the spectators. Other companies occupied the platforms more permanently. Trucks were used.
(Gourfinkel 1979: 125–26)
A similar spatial spontaneity is seen in many of the spaces used for indoor performances: the amateur groups performed in bars, tea-rooms, halls, basements and in any other space where political instigation was deemed necessary (Mally 2000: 26–27).
The communal dimension of amateur theatre emerges again in the practice known as ‘collective dramaturgy’, a form of group-work to create performance scripts (Gourfinkel 1979: 137–38). Collective dramaturgy was managed through the appointment of a facilitator, whose main responsibility was to introduce the theme. The workers then fleshed up this theme by recalling their own life experiences and examples that they might have read about or seen at the theatre or cinema. The following are two such scenarios:
A working-class family. A father and his son work at a factory, while the daughter is engaged to another worker. There is a strike which is followed by all members of the family. However, the daughter’s fiancé chooses to distance himself from the strike, and, consequently, the girl renounces the love of this class traitor.
The following is another theme. An old man has two sons. The elder has a college education. He is an intellectual, a sweet human being with strong ideals. The second son is a worker and Bolshevik. The two fall in love with the same girl. She prefers the older one, who exhibits good manners but reacts to the events of the civil war in a cowardly and fearful way. On the other hand, the Bolshevik dies as a hero. The girl collects the Red flag which has slipped from the hand of the young man and pushes the workers forward for another attack.
(Gourfinkel 1979: 138–39)
It is important to note that even the theme had a strong communal dimension about how to live with one’s fellow man. The relationship between any individual man and the Revolution was envisaged as too complex for the common man to understand. Indeed, the whole idea of the ‘individual’ was itself considered as counter revolutionary (Hellbeck 2006: 121, 131–34). Conflicts of ‘a social nature were much easier to grasp and more politically correct’ (Gourfinkel 1979: 138), which explains the working-class background in the social dramaturgies above.
A sense of community is fostered when groups of people bind together over common goals, a practice that underlines theatre work in general and amateur theatre in particular. Apart from the desire to produce the best possible theatre with the scarce means in hand (and to become known for it), the amateur actors in the examples above came together to carry out an endeavour that had collective authorship at its core. The communal DIY practices, spaces and themes served to ‘fill [actors but also spectators with] proletarian solidarity and comradeship’ (Stourac and McCreery 1986: 43), defining social factors within a context that promoted group-work as a way out of the stagnation in which the country had fallen. Amateur theatre in post-revolutionary Russia, therefore, connected both ‘inwards’, with the experiments in form that marked a lot of modern theatre and performance, and ‘outwards’, with the broader cultural experiment to create a society based on equality and collectivity.
Application of Theory to Historiography: Amateur Theatre as an Act of Resistance
The above accounts of amateur practice can be seen to have tackled five out of the six questions that theatre historian Thomas Postlewait uses to frame convincing historical research, namely the ‘who’, ‘what’, ‘where’, ‘when’ and ‘how’. These frames facilitate reconstructions of theatre events, but it is the sixth interrogation, the ‘why’, which interprets the historical data (Postlewait 2009: 1). By using post-revolutionary amateur theatre as an example, I will now move to propose critical theory as a tool that facilitates historical interpretation. In this way, I will suggest that the ad hoc practices of amateur theatre contained the seeds of political resistance because they fit in with difficulty in the surrounding context as it was developing in the 1920s. Reference will be made to Lynn Mally’s account on post-revolutionary amateur theatre, titled Revolutionary Acts: Amateur Theatre and the Soviet State, 1917–38 (2000), which I consider to be the most comprehensive book in English on the subject.
The use of theory in historical studies has given rise to recent debate, and there is no agreement between historians on its validity, or on the extent to which it should be used in historical studies. Consequently, while several sources on theatre historiography do hint at the application of theory in the study of theatre history, few go to Jackie Bratton’s extent of advocating for a ‘theorised theatre history’ (Bratton 2003: 4). In...