Theatre-Theatre in Perm has premiered a new production based on Moliere’s ‘The Misanthrope’, which is set in a different era, but has characters which feel very real today.

Founded in 1927 the Perm Drama Theatre was rebranded in 2007 as Theatre-Theatre when artistic director Boris Milgram (b. 1954) introduced a whole new approach to its repertoire and mission. Milgram, along with many other leading cultural figures is behind what is called the ‘Perm cultural revolution’. In the last two decades since the Millenium the regional governor of Perm Oleg Chirkunov put culture right at the heart of his region's development and attracted the support of entrepreneurs and cultural figures including art gallerist and promotor Marat Guelman (declared a foreign agent by Russian authorities), producer Eduard Boyakov and theatre director Boris Milgram to put Perm on the map as a cultural destination.

Successful initiatives followed: the PERMM Museum of Contemporary Art was established in a former riverboat station; there was the New Drama Festival and pioneering Greek conductor Teodor Currentzis (b. 1972) was appointed artistic director of the city’s Opera and Ballet Theatre. Art appeared around the city, on the roof of the organ hall and dotted around the city ‘Red Men’ sculptures were installed by a group of artists from St Petersburg called the Professors and around the same time a monumental gate in the shape of the Cyrillic letter П (P) by contemporary artist Nikolai Polissky (b. 1967) was erected (which was recently dismantled). Not everyone was supportive, some locals fearing that outsiders were acting in their own interests, but when star directors Peter Sellars, Romeo Castellucci and Bob Wilson came to Perm they had never even heard of the city and in their wake came Currentzis, and an influx of both Russian and European audiences who came to visit the Urals. And Perm’s Diaghilev Festival has turned into one of the most interesting and important contemporary music festivals in Russia.

Theatre-Theatre with its new independent developmental strategy has become one of the leading theatre companies in the country. It has received numerous Golden Masks for the best performance of the season across the nation, the highest annual award given in the Russian national theatre. Curiously, most of these award-winning productions feature musical genres. Milgram was one of the first directors in the country to spot an evolution of Russian drama towards synthetic theatre and now it has become a major trend, but two decades ago this shift towards musical theatre would have seemed unthinkable, especially in a city that already had its own established opera and ballet theatre.

One trend is the adaptation of plays by contemporary writers into impressive new media productions with composers who employ the latest pioneering techniques, genres can range from operas to artistic projects. Among the stand-out premieres in recent seasons are the opera Antigone composed by Olga Shaidullina, b. 1983, a chamber opera for five voices and an orchestra of household appliances called ‘Seryozha is Very Stupid’ based on the play of the same name by Dmitry Danilov, the score composed by Vladimir Rannev, (b. 1970), and the hypnotically beautiful drama with orchestral accompaniment ‘Katerina Izmailova’ composed by Dmitry Kurlyandsky, (b. 1976).

‘The Misanthrope’ is among these treasures, directed by Elizaveta Bondar (b. 1986) with music by Nikolai Popov (b. 1986) and an adapted script written by playwright Alexander Plotnikov (b. 1995), they made a formidable team. The latter completely rewrote Molière's text transforming it into a witty pamphlet, which does not try to conceal references to recent Russian events. The context is also Russian with the play beginning at the time of the collapse of the USSR. But in every possible way the creators behind this production take pains to avoid any direct political statements. Starting with the music there is only a brushing semblance to Molière, since fragments of the musical score are stylized in the manner of a traditional comic opera, with some important exceptions for the musical dramaturgy.

Thus, Oronte speaks to the tune of a well-known tango in the USSR, while his sonnet (not to Celimene, but naturally to the Communist Party!) is set to the motif of one of a thousand Soviet patriotic songs. Secondly, the characters travel through time, skipping over our times. The first act of the play takes place during the USSR: a monumental head of Lenin, a speaker’s rostrum with a coat of arms, and a pair of vintage-looking armchairs. Alceste is wearing a light-coloured mackintosh, a ski cap and sneakers: a typical Soviet non-conformist. In his interlocutor and friend (who covers for the hero, and does not give him in), a KGB officer can be guessed at through the grey cloak and hat. The second act takes the characters to the Golden Palace casino, a well-known 1990s hot spot in Moscow. The third is a metaphorical space: a misty dark forest with overturned gaunt trees. The fourth act sees a high-tech future in which Alceste is judged and sentenced by an AI system called Iron Felix (the name of the monument of Felix Dzerzhinsky which used to stand in front of the KGB building in Moscow before 1991). Finally, there is the fifth act where on the staircase which cuts diagonally across the stage, Alceste passes through the clouds.

Dangerous things can emerge throughout the text of the play, which is saturated with allusions immediately understandable to a native Russian listener. From references to poison (there are several poisoning stories), a prison term for rhyme (referring to the trial of director Evgenia Berkovich and playwright Svetlana Petriychuk), traditional values (recently passed laws, affecting also the cultural agenda) right down to the specific individuals behind the main characters there are hints and messages. The truth-teller Alceste, cast here as a romantic hero, is a hero who has ideals not just to avoid hypocrisy, but to make the world a better place.

Through time he remains true to himself, which is shown through his dress, he goes through different epochs where the former official is now wearing a burgundy coat and then a pink spacesuit, but Alceste remains in the same sneakers, mohair jumper and ski cap. Celimene tries on his cape in the finale. The coquette, shown here as a rather toxic person who sees through people and is not afraid to say so, seems to be preparing to carry on Alceste's mission as he embarks on when appears to be his final journey. The ironic text of the play finally gives way to lyricism, and the scene of Celimene's refusal does not feel like betrayal, rather a moving farewell scene. Afterwards, the hero is left alone with the question: "It's time to ask yourself, Alceste. What do you want, Alceste? Do you hear me? What do you want?" It feels as though this question comes too late, but such is the fate of a man who tried to serve his people and his country.