Nicolaï Erdman: The Suicide, soviet vaudeville MITEM 12

Soviet Union, late 1920s. In the middle of the night, Semione  Semionovitch, unemployed and miserable, tries to relieve his hunger by swallowing a liver sausage. He wakes up his wife, an argument breaks out and the pitiful hero disappears, threatening "his last breath".  Semionovitch’s wife, convinced that he will end his life, calls for help.  The news spreads, attracting the neighbourhood and soon a whole  gallery of characters intrude upon the unfortunate event. Thoughts of  posthumous glory overtake Semionovitch, prompting the thought: by  killing himself, could he finally become someone? Written against the crossroads of the twenties and thirties, the play  was banned before it could be performed. Victim of the authoritarian  and repressive policies of the Soviet government, Nicolaï Erdman  was arrested, shortly after writing The Suicide, for having signed a  short satirical poem about Stalin. His two plays (The Mandate and  The Suicide) were definitly banned. He was sent for three years to  deportation and then placed under house arrest. He never resumed his  career as a playwright, keeping within him "an eternal fear". This is a  feeling that the "hero" of The Suicide, Semyonovich, is imbued with. An  empty shell, a mediocre and insignificant being, Semyonovich seems to  take on a life of his own only by the interested eyes of the others. On  the threshold of his death, he is finally by a breath of life – a terrible,  suspended whisper.  Tick, tock. In the satirical tradition of Gogol, Nicolaï Erdman here summons  people, notables, ecclesiastics, shopkeepers who persist in finding  meaning in their lives, even though all their previous reference points  have been destroyed. In this and asphyxiated society, a simple lie can  reveal a chain of impostures until the final explosion. Nicolaï Erdman's text continues to resound with force, so much so  that it contains a virulent critique of all oppressive political regimes  and a biting reflection on the meaning of existence. The story of this  pathetic little man who struggles in the chaos challenges our times,  our desires, our resignations. How to resist oppression without being a  hero? Jean Bellorini and his troupe of actors, singers and musicians  venture into this political farce that is as juicy as it is chilling, with a relentless mechanic and a vaudeville feel. The choral work, the  musicians, and the costumes designed by Macha Makeïeff bring out the  humour and madness of a score that moves at the unbridled rhythm  of André Markowicz's translation. And finally, when the sets and masks  fall, the theatre remains, an immense declaration of love to life.