I meet Karen Breckenridge

THEATRE: Vasily and I visited what is called the Maali Theatre (small theatre) next morning. It is one of the older theatre houses in Moscow situated almost opposite the Bolshoi Ballet Theatre. By our standards it is not exactly a 'small' theatre as the name denotes. It is in fact quite a large theatre which could accommodate around a thousand spectators.

It is, what I would call a 'traditional' theatre which mostly performs traditional and fairly modern Soviet plays. That morning we did not go there to see a play. It was a sort of 'backstage' visit, at my request. I had requested to see a 'stage carpentry and customary' where they build stage sets, stage props etc. and make costumes, stage wigs and all kinds of other stage paraphernalia.

For someone like me, going from a country where most theatres did not have such facilities (I am told that the old Tower Hall had, in fact in-built facilities for making stage sets and had a string of peripheral units in and around the place for making costumes, wigs, stage props etc.

In fact there was a man referred to by everybody as 'Konda Baas', living close to the present Abeysinharamaya, whose speciality was making of wigs for various kingly characters such as Siri Sangabo, 'Rakthakshi', Vidhura, Sri Wickrama Rajasinghe, Ehelepola, Veediya Bandara and a host of other historical and fictional characters.

Even after the Tower Hall days any theatre director who wanted such material always went straight to 'Konda Baas' of Abeysinharama road and he hired them for a very nominal fee. I hired some wigs from him, for my very first stage production 'Janaki', way back in 1951, during my Dehipe, Padiyapelella days as an Eng. Asst. teacher - which my regular readers might remember.

Stage direction

We met the director of the Maali Theatre. In Moscow there are separate directors (Recessor) for the actual stage direction of plays. But there is another director in charge of other matters such as maintenance, upkeep, day-to-day matters etc - a kind of administrator. It is that person we met that morning.

He was a hulk of a man dressed in very casual manner, in a T-shirt and coat and a pair of work pants. The cold did not seem to bother him at all. He showed us around the place, always very kind and courteous. The theatre had quite a spacious backyard, covered with something like fiber-glass sheeting. This is where the carpentry was housed.

It had enough space to turn out any intricate stage set and they had the special tools set up very neatly and methodically. Sets were made, painted and tired out here, before being set up on the stage. Men and women in heavy overalls, gloves and other protective gear were working on a rather elaborate stage set. The director told us that it was for their next new production - a play called 'Palaata' (Hospital Word) by a relatively new author.

Special rollers

Our host showed us many gadgets and accessories that a normal theatre-goer would never set his eyes upon. There were special rollers to move the sets from workshop to stage. There were hidden pulleys, trap doors and a whole lot of electrically operated machinery that could make the stage turn like a turn table, areas that could be lifted to make way for a stairway and all kinds of stage trickery.

All this made me realize that there is a whole lot of exiting drama going on back stage which needed unerring timing and precision, to give the audience that feel and sense of 'reality'. The Russian 'Realistic' theatre makers are masters in this game and they are very proud about it. In fact, almost always, there is a separate round of applause for the behind-the-stage Artistic Director.

From the workshop and stage at ground level, we were taken upstairs to the Director's office room where we were served with biscuits and coffee. I had not forgotten to carry my gift of Ceylon Tea (Tsylon Chai) and our host was delighted. "I am a great fan of your tea." He said, admiring the neat little packet of tea. (The Russians are pretty bad with packing. It is mostly very drab and dull to the eye. I believe things are different now.) After coffee and a merciful sit, we were taken to the costumes department.

Hundreds of costumes neatly ironed and brushed lay hanging on specially designed racks. Hundreds of pairs of shoes, gum boots, royal foot wear, crowns and tiaras and other accessories, lay in waiting in neatly arranged rows, in another section of the room.

The most absorbing part of the morning was the wig-making section. Actors of the Soviet stage are rather fond of wearing wigs and moustaches when they play traditional roles not only of Soviet plays of Chekhov, Gorky, Schwartz etc. but also in plays of Shakespeare, Ibsen, Molliere, Wilde and even Bernard Shaw. (Incidentally, Oscar Wilde and Bernard Shaw were quite popular on the Moscow stages at that time.)

The wigs and moustache are woven with great care by masters of the trade, mostly women. They could be seen sitting patiently with the mould of a head in front of them and weaving the wig in with tender care, almost hair by hair into a thin net attached to the bald scalp of the mould. They took even greater care with ladies' wigs, perhaps well aware of the whims and fancies - and tantrums - of their own kind!

Pleasant drawl

After climbing up and down so many stairways and after tripping at quite a few stage traps at the Maali Theatre, I was happy to have the afternoon off. After lunch I wrote a letter to Manel describing my experiences so far - especially with the magnificent Swan Lake - took a small nap, and got ready to meet Reggie's friend, Karen Breckenridge in the evening.

I had called him earlier in the day and made an appointment to meet him at the foyer and be seated in a place I could see you, okay?" He had said, almost in one breath, in a kind of pleasant drawl.

I was down in the foyer and seated watching the entrance - a double door. In Russia almost all entry points in public places have double doors. You push open the first door, enter an empty space laid with thick door mats, rub the soles of your shoes or boots on it, shake the snow from your snow hat and overcoat, push the second door.

With your hands or your shoulder and enter inside as quickly as you can. The door closes tight, automatically. Very soon you learn to carry out this measured operation as dexterously as you could to avoid bringing the outside cold in.

I was thinking about this man called Karen Breckenridge, while I waited. 'Breckenridge'? And 'Karen'. Must be a Burgher chap, I decided. He must be fair. Very fair. Perhaps with a head of Slightly blonde hair. Must be a clean shaven guy.

Very urbane, I am sure. That's what his drawling manner of speech indicated. The entrance door opened with a complaining creak, and a tall, dark, lanky man with a fairly prominent moustache was approaching me with an easy and free kind of gait.

"I am Breckenridge." The man told me extending a long limb of an arm. I brushed aside my utter surprise, got up and grabbed his hand warmly. The man was smiling - almost from ear to ear - a friendly and warm smile. He displayed a good set of teeth, a little bit marred by one discoloured tooth, which did no harm at all to the warmth of it. "Let's get rid of this junk," said Breck, still smiling that warm smile and walking towards the overcoat reception counter. He took his heavy overcoat and snow hat off, handed it over to the counter, pocketed the receipt token and turned to me. "So Henry, what do we do now?" He said in his drawl. "Do we go out or sit in a warm corner and chat?" "Why not go to my room?" I ventured.

"It's warm and private. We can order some food to the room." 'Great idea chum,' said Breck and we were already on our way upstairs.

At the second floor, Breck showed his identity card to the 'Babushka' at the entrance. She smiled and told him something in Russian and waived us in. It was later that I learnt that diplomatic identity cards are highly respected anywhere in Russia.

Apparently the Babushka had told Breck about the 'biscuits and tea' incident the other night, and he was having a hearty laugh. Once in my room Breck pulled out a bottle of vodka from one of his inner pockets and kept it on the table. "Have you tasted this stuff, my friend?" He queried, making himself comfortable in one of the chairs.

"I have, in the plane, on my way here." I told him. "This is the best stuff, Vodki Staleechnaya..!" said Breck.

Later, he called room service and ordered some mineral water, glasses, ice and some eatables. I noticed that he spoke fluent Russian. That is always an advantage. The news that a diplomat from the Embassy of Ceylon was visiting room No. 215 would have reached the restaurant too.

We had our orders delivered in the room in no time. It could have been my imagination too. We drank thimblefuls of the Vodka chased down by gulps of mineral water. That is the proper way to drink Vodka. There are in fact several kinds of mineral waters to choose from - depending on your taste and also depending on which mineral was most beneficial to you.

Excellent job

Breck spoke endearingly about the visit of Chitrasena, Vajira and their troupe to Moscow early that year. "That visit, put us up in the Soviet map.!" Declared Breck proudly. "Karadiya took Moscow by storm!" He added even more proudly.

It was Breck who had been in charge of all matters relating to that visit, and according to Chitrasena, he had done an excellent job. I was thankful to my friend Reggie for introducing this man, Breck, to me.

"I am happy that you are here too" said Breck. "I have always wanted to meet you. I am happy you have come here during my term of office here as Cultural Attache."

"You can help me a lot." I told him sincerely and related what transpired at the Gosconcert office, about my travel to other cities. Breck was thoughtful for a while after listening to me. "You see Henry" he said with a tolerant smile.

"Even we (meaning diplomats) have to get permission to travel more than 40 kilometres away from Moscow. Your proposition is going to be difficult considering the constraints here. But we'll see. We'll see what could be done. Don't worry about it right now."

Breck and I chatted until almost midnight and then he left. "You should meet old Sube" he told me before I saw him off at the door. "Our Ambassador, T.B. Subasinghe is a great guy."

Thought of the week

My humble congratulations to the self-made gritty young man from Polonnaruwa who has brought glory to Sri Lanka by winning a Gold at the Commonwealth Games now being held in Melbourne, Australia. The young man Chintana Vithanage is unemployed and has no sponsor. Now that he has won Gold, I am sure the country, the State as well as the private sector will take note.

Here is Olympic Level material that could be trained properly and systematically. I only hope that the younger man will not be 'spoilt' by some of the 'gravy wagoners' as has been done before.

One report says that 'the sad part of it was that none of the officials were present to witness the event except his two trainers'. It appears that his personal trainer Kumudu Kumara de Silva could not accompany the Sri Lankan contingent to Melbourne.

I wonder why. Maybe he could not find a sponsor. Or, more likely, his place was taken by one of the all important 'officials'.

I wonder where the 'officials' were when Chintana was making history for his country. Perhaps they were officiating' more important things.

The good news is that President Mahinda Rajapakse has pledged cash awards of Rs. One million for gold medal winners. I only hope that the 'officials' will claim no part of that award at least!

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