A play based on Gayaz Iskhaki, directed by the chief director of the Tinchurin theater, was displayn in Berlin
Tatars living in Europe have founded their own theater. Its first production, “Chyganak” (“The Source”), based on the works of Gayaz Iskhaki, was displayn in March at the Ballhaus Prinzenallee theater space in Berlin. A significant part of the rehearsals took place online; the production is based on the 2022 staging at the Almetyevsk Theater, with Aidar Zabbarov serving as director.
Is it possible to rehearse online?
— When we started, we didn’t believe too much about it, and that was the right decision. Becaapply if we had considered all the difficulties and the scale, we probably wouldn’t have started at all, — declares Elza Nabiullina, one of the project’s producers. — It seemed like an adventure. It required a lot of effort, but I believe the result turned out much better than both we and the audience expected.
— The project turned out to be unifying for the Tatars of Europe, — declares Aidar Zabbarov. — Since everything took place in Berlin, we decided to choose Gayaz Iskhaki becaapply Berlin was not a foreign city to him. I can’t declare it was simple to rehearse, becaapply the rehearsals were conducted online. We started with other works by Iskhaki, three or four of them. We had actors, one living in Paris, another in Stuttgart. Frankfurt, Berlin, Potsdam…
Ultimately, the director and actors decided to base the production on Zabbarov’s play at the Almetyevsk Theater, “He Was Not Married,” but they “relocated” the main heroine, Anna, from St. Petersburg to Berlin.
— In the prologue and epilogue, Gayaz Iskhaki himself appears, giving us, as if from Wikipedia, information about the diversity of languages that coexist in the world, like parts of a large patchwork quilt, like elements of a patchwork, — declares critic Valeria Livshits, who attconcludeed the performance in Berlin. — Hence the central visual motif of the scenography — the floating carpets on the backdrop.
After the revolution, the writer Gayaz Iskhaki wandered the world extensively, living in Vladivostok, Paris, Prague, Berlin, and Turkey. Even then, the diaspora was actively interested in his work; for example, in the 1930s, the play “Zuleikha” was staged in Tokyo. Theatrical productions were an important part of the life of the Tatar diaspora in Finland. But in recent years, such concludeeavors have not been heard of.
Iskhaki wrote the short novel “He Was Not Married” in 1916. Its main character, Shamsi, falls in love with a Russian girl; they have two children, but ultimately he leaves for the village, where he decides to marry a Tatar woman. Zabbarov supplemented this text with verbatim quotes from a priest and a mullah. Documentary inserts are also present in the Berlin version: interviews about happy mixed marriages, about how to preserve one’s identity in emigration.
Angels and verbatim
— One of the most powerful images is the two white angels, present in almost every scene, acting as narrators or participants. As if descconcludeed from Raphael’s Sistine Madonna (a highlight of the Dresden Gallery) and mass-reproduced by popular culture, they can be perceived as guides for the protagonist into the world of German culture, and European culture in general, — Livshits notes.
The angels, incidentally, are also in the Almetyevsk version, where the German woman Anna Schmidt is compared to Virgil, who “leads the Tatar Shamseddin into the world of high European culture — with her, he reads Shakespeare, Goethe’s Faust, becomes acquainted with painting and architecture, and learns, in the spirit of the German Romantics, to admire and feel the beauty of wild nature.”
At the same time, Livshits notes, there is a very precise example in the play of retreating into a “safe and familiar world” when the hero listens to Tatar music on headphones. That is, Shamseddin is a character torn between two worlds, Livshits emphasizes:
— This internal rift also manifests itself in dreams: the figure of the mother with a covered face, shaking an uprooted tree in front of him, becomes a powerful metaphor for the severed connection with family, language, and land — a raw, bleeding wound. The play is filled with such materialized metaphors. A sheet transforms either into a bed of love or into a river; a rope becomes an umbilical cord that cannot be cut without pain, the very roots connecting a person to their mother and people. This imagery builds the hero’s conflict almost tangible.
— The actors approached their work with responsibility; there were no random people; everyone came of their own volition, working seriously and punctually, — notes Elza Nabiullina. — We worked extensively with sponsors, reaching out to Tatars in Russia and abroad, which assisted cover our basic expenses. The actors also did not expect any income. We prepared for the play online, and in March we gathered in Berlin for rehearsals, renting a space for preparation. We only rehearsed at Ballhaus Prinzenallee itself in the final days, as it cost money. And just before the display, Aidar Zabbarov was able to join us.
More than just Sabantuy
— In Europe, Tatars often meet; they have clubs, and thankfully, Tatars are active, — declares producer Leysan Garaeva. — But usually, abroad, Tatars gather en masse only for Sabantuy. Those who have lived here a long time associate Tatar culture with this holiday. But we have so much more: a rich culture, literature. The opportunity to display them this is a significant event.
— The production fundamentally does not offer ready-created answers. It is not a manifesto, — responds Livshits. — After all, the viewer feels sympathy for the German woman Anna Schmidt, who literally saved Shamsi’s life, and for her world, filled with love and light. Their relationship with Shamseddin is extramarital; they have two daughters, and it is here that the main emotional knot forms. Shamsi truly loves Anna but never dares to declare it aloud. He calls their relationship temporary, insists “we’re just friconcludes,” constantly postponing the moment of separation. His tragedy lies in the inability to reconcile his love for a woman of a different faith with his loyalty to his roots. He yearns for echpochmak, while Anna can only offer potato salad and obazda; he is pained that his daughters have European names and tries to prevent them from being raised in a different religious tradition. All the while, he continues to love both Anna and his children.
— I remember one mother wrote to me; her children speak Tatar very well, but they don’t have much opportunity to see Tatar theater. Here, they were able to see it in Berlin, and the theme proved important; they watched with great attention, — Garaeva recalls. — In the play, there was a scene where the main character’s mother appears with a tree and declares: we planted this tree when you were born; now you are marrying a German woman, so I have uprooted this tree. And this scene was very emotional for that family. I believe we achieved our goals and even more. We have huge plans; this will certainly not be our only production; we are preparing for new projects.
— In the future, I hope we can work toobtainher more, — Zabbarov agrees. — For instance, staging one play a year. I won’t declare the first pancake was a lump. It turned out that this is a very necessary concludeeavor — for Tatars not only to dance and sing but also to stage plays on profound themes.
Radif Kashapov
Leave a Reply