THEATRE OF CZARS.

Taranaki Daily News, 21 January 1922, Page 12

THEATRE OF CZARS.

UNDER THE SOVIET. ARTISANS IN THE BOXES. If you ask a Moscow cabman to drive you to the “Imperial Theatre” he will know what you mean all right, though he flaunt the red badge o-f Communisni in his fur cap and acknowledge allegiance to no emperor (says the Moscow correspondent of the Daily Chronicle). Nor will he protest ar the misnomer, qs it now is. He will take you straight away to the great building with its lonic portico. and its colossal group of Phoebus in the Chariot of the Sun.

But of the theatre’s “Imperialism’’ nothing but the name remains. Every insignia of Czardom has vanished.

Above the entrance there are only a few rusty nails in the place where formerly the Imperial eagle raised its twin heads. Inside ae'ual vandalism has been ingeniously avoided. The gilded crowns and sceptres over the royal box remain, but you don’t see them because they are hidden under red hangings. The “Imperial” Theatre is, of course, like every other institution in Russia, the property of the State, and is administered by the Soviet Government. The character of the performances is as before, opera alternating wj.th ballet, and both are presented with their oldtime magnificence and artistic excellence. ' This certainly applied to the performance which I witnessed of “Prince Igor.” The mounting and dressing showed no stint; there was an orchestra which numbered nearly 100; the chorus crowded the huge stage; both singing and ensemble were first-class. Incidentally, a ballet was interpolated 'into one of the scenes. It was a revelation. One realised that the Russian ballet as presented abroad, even by Russian artists, is a pallid reproduction of the Russian ballet as performed in a Russian theatre to a Russian audience.

For ten minutes the stage was a riotous orgy of life and color. It blazed and flickered lTl<e a great fire, for every dancer—and there must have been at least 60 —was in constant motion, like a living flame.

The setting was Mongolian, so' that the whole spectacle was lillevl with the mingled splendour and ferocity of barbarism. It was almost affrighting, yet fascinating, in its sudden revelat primitive Oriental passion and vitality. But what was still more interesting than the performance was the character of the audience. Here, rather than in the obliterated symbols of monarchy, was brought home the change that 'has come over Russia. With very few exceptions the whole audience could be labelled “proletarian.” In the Imperial box sat a. “Red” soldier surrounded by an obviously artisan family. Dress circle and stalls were hardly distinguishable from gallery, except perhaps in a greater uniformity of dress and an occasional black-coated “bourgeois.” Leaning over the edge of one of the huge stage boxes was a row of lads with roughened hands and faces, who yet followed intently every note and movement. In its great majority it was an obviously working-class audience which packed the enormous interior from the floor right up through the five gilded circles.

“Boiled” shirts and low-cut dresses might never liave been invented. The only touch of ceremonious attire was given by a few soldiers in the “full dress” of the Red army—smart blue tunics and 'crimson breeches. White smocks with leather belts seemed the favored garb for youths, whose faces suggested the student type.