An important double-bill that sheds a unique light on conflict in Ukraine over the past decade.
A dark, surreal tragicomedy and a stark, heartbreaking monologue in a double bill by two women playwrights digs deep into the human situation of individuals caught up in the conflict in Ukraine. What is immediately striking as you watch this hard-hitting pairing of dramas, actually written in response to the earlier conflict in the east of Ukraine and Russia’s 2014 invasion of the Crimea, is how familiar the names of war-torn locations are now, since the February 2022 invasion. How many UK theatregoers would have been able to place The Donbas region back then? Sadly, and to our shame, it has taken the invasion to wake the world to dangers that were all too clear to so many on the ground in the region – including these two playwrights.
The premise of Natal’ya Vorozhbit’s Take the Rubbish Out, Sasha (translated by Sasha Dugdale) is that the unquiet ghost of a Ukrainian Army colonel, the eponymous Sasha, who died not in action but on the bathroom floor from a heart attack, continues to be part of his family’s life. This is down to the mighty practical and emotional strength displayed by his hardworking widow Katya and heavily pregnant stepdaughter Oksana, who both require answers – and indeed action – from the deceased.
Even as the women prepare the ritual food parcels for the mourners at Sasha’s funeral, he finds himself the target of Katya’s displeasure as she remembers his shortcomings – especially the alcoholism she was tackling – and their joshing relationship continues almost uninterrupted, including the practical command of the title. However, even as she berates him for not earning enough in the army, what is so touching is that nothing can disguise the reality of their affection.
The action moves forward a year and to the cemetery where Sasha is buried, where ritual now demands an anniversary feast, at which the deceased himself is the guest of honour, offered all his favourite delicacies. Katya and Oksana exchange tales of Sasha, in which they big him up and regret that he never got to meet Oksana’s baby son Kolya.
Just when it seems they’ve seen the last of him, time moves forward again to 2014 and Katya’s house outside Kyiv. Now the Russians have invaded, it seems the dead themselves have been called upon to mobilise and defend their country, but before Sasha can answer the call to arms, he needs first to "obtain permission from living relatives”.
Under Svetlana Dimcovic’s sparky direction, Amanda Ryan’s Katya and Issy Knowles’ Oksana demonstrate their fine, mutually supportive relationship and both are a match in different ways for interacting tellingly with Alan Cox’s down to earth (no pun intended) Sasha.
Neda Nezhdana’s dark monologue, Pussycat in Memory of Darkness (translated by John Farndon) is directed by Polly Creed and performed with quietly hypnotic intensity by Kristin Milward. As she stands outside a Ukraine metro station with a litter of kittens for sale, she engages with us the audience, as prospective buyers. She also shares with us in graphic detail her awful fate and the suffering inflicted on her, her family and even her family pet, the kittens’ mother Esmeralda.
These horrors date back to 2014 and further and, again, there are now familiar names, like the Maidan, and iconic images, such as the blue and yellow badge she takes to wearing, which needs no further explanation as the colours of Ukraine. There is a particularly telling analogy, where she describes how her son is terrified of dogs after he is bitten by one, “so we bought him a little puppy and the fear went. My son hung a blue and yellow ribbon on his bag and did the same thing… He squeezed fear out of himself.”
Nezhdana’s monologue states Putin’s position succinctly: “For Novorossiya to be born, Ukraine must be killed.” Vorozhbit’s magic (sur)realism takes us to the heart of the darkness with the lightest of touches. Both offerings pave the way for a greater understanding of the current situation in Ukraine.
By Judi Herman
Photos by Charles Flint
Two Ukrainian Plays runs until Saturday 3 September. 7.30pm, 3pm (Sat & Sun only). £20-£23, £18-£20 concs. Finborough Theatre, SW10 9ED. finboroughtheatre.co.uk