"Ours" is the word that defines theatre for me. A big conversation with actor Mikhas Zuy about the stage, the team, and theatre in exile

— Mikhas, how did your love for theatre begin?

— I don't know if it was love; at first, it was an interest. I studied at school No. 136 in Minsk. In high school, there was a class with a theatrical focus, and I decided to enroll there. I remember reading an excerpt from "Amphibian Man"; I thought then that I was reading a bit terribly, but they took me. Those were very cool times that I enjoy recalling — we staged plays, participated in competitions. That's where it all started. And in the eleventh grade, there wasn't even a question of where to apply; I knew for sure it would be the Academy of Arts. I didn't even have a Plan B for what I would do if I didn't pass the competition. And I got into the theatre faculty.

— How did you get into the Kupala Theatre?

— Towards the end of our studies at the Academy, we naturally joined the Kupala Theatre. I didn't even have a moment of choice. Our course master at that time was the artistic director of the Kupala Theatre — Valery Nikolaevich Rayevsky. Six of us were immediately taken into the National Theatre, which was an unusual situation, because usually, only one person was accepted into the Kupala Theatre per year, through auditions, which was very difficult, but we "flew in" as such a team.

— What were your impressions when you first found yourself on the Kupala stage as a young artist?

— The first time I was on the Kupala stage, it was literally in the dark. There was a play called "A Commemorative Prayer," and I, as a young actor, was instructed to go out onto the stage. I asked: "Who am I?" And they answered: "You'll either be Jewish or for the Russians. Well, put on a Jewish costume." I asked: "What should I do?" And they said: "You'll figure it out." And so the play was close, and then it was starting, darkness everywhere, and I was already on stage. And in "A Commemorative Prayer," it begins with all the actors standing in a circle, the lights come on, and a Jewish dance begins, which I didn't know. And I mimicked this dance with some kind of mimicry. That was my first appearance on the Kupala stage.

After that was the "purgatory of extras," which all young actors go through. My first full-fledged role was Mikita Lapets in the play "To Marry – Not to Grieve," and I was introduced to this play by the excellent director Andrei Androsik. I played such a young peasant eccentric there.

Павялічыць

— In your opinion, which period in the history of the Kupala Theatre was the most significant for you?

— For me, the most fun/brightest period in the theatre was the beginning of my career. We had such a cool tradition — for several years in a row, we very creatively congratulated each other on our birthdays. I was once congratulated very coolly — they made a children's birthday party in McDonald's. Everyone dressed in squirrel, bunny, or other animal costumes, even older actors and actresses, and made a surprise. It was a very cool, fun, sociable period.

But if we talk about a productive, significant time for me at the Kupala Theatre — I believe it was the last years before 2020. During this period, the Kupala Theatre had many significant performances. Our theatre salaries became a bit better then, and a renovation took place. It was wonderful.

But when it comes to the present, I believe that for the Kupala actors, this is the most challenging time, but also the most interesting. Very significant processes are happening — there isn't this feeling that we are a factory for producing plays. Today, we are a theatre on wheels, without our own premises, but this theatre has its own voice, which is interesting to listen to.

Павялічыць

— How do you feel about what is happening with the "Kupala" Theatre in Belarus now?

— If we talk about how the theatre looks today — my friend and I recently joked that it's now the "National Russified Theatre on Engels Street, 7"; it's even hard to call it the Kupala Theatre. And it's not just about a director from Russia coming to the post of artistic director of a national theatre. From time to time, I review the current repertoire of the theatre, how the poster looks, how the website looks, what actors are being recruited. And, of course, when I look at all this, I get a little sad. I think that the actors who worked at the Kupala Theatre before 2020 and continue to work there now feel how much the artistic situation has changed.

— And how do you feel about the actors who remained working in the theatre after the protests?

— This is a very difficult question, especially when it comes to those who stayed. They are all very different people. There are those who stayed and say nothing shameful about us, but there are also those who smear us with dirt. Of course, there were people for whom it was difficult to accept such radical changes, who had worked in the theatre their whole lives, and it's a pity they couldn't understand some important things. As for those who smear their former colleagues who left — well, I'm ashamed of them. I don't feel anger or resentment, it's just somehow sad that this is happening.

Павялічыць

— What do you think about contemporary independent theatre in exile? Does it have a future?

— It seems to me that independent theatre is currently in a very interesting position. That is, it's very active, like that frog in a barrel, kicking its legs to churn cream and thus survive.

Recently, there was a discussion on the topic "What is the current state of Belarusian culture," and many expressed the opinion that Belarusian culture is currently undergoing a period of revival. But it seems to me that this revival is on the brink of survival. This survival is happening through moral and volitional efforts, through the initiative of individual people.

Belarusian performances often take place in Warsaw, and in Lublin this winter, the "Middle East" theatre festival was held, entirely dedicated to "Free Kupala actors." It was possible to see how much the independent troupe had staged over these four years. And it's really cool that the movement is ongoing and not stopping, and there's still enough strength to move forward.

But it is clear that both the Kupala actors and all other theatre professionals currently living in Warsaw urgently need their own space. A permanent place for rehearsals, creative meetings, where many Belarusian plays and creative projects could be realized, is essential.

Павялічыць

— What helps you stay in the acting profession, in creative work?

— You know, it so happened that since 2021, I've been working less as an actor. Unless, of course, you count our YouTube channel "ChinChinChannel."

But in this same project, I am also one of the scriptwriters. To be honest, I really like screenwriting. I can mention the series "Processes," which Andrei Kashperski and I created, and which aired on "Belsat." I was one of the showrunners for that series. I hope there will be a second season — we are already working on new stories for this series.

There was also work on the short film "Trial of the Dead."

In other words, I am very much inspired by authorial work and, of course, music. Currently in Poland, we often perform with the bands "Zui" and "ili-ili."

Therefore, what keeps me in creativity, in the profession, is diversity, diversification. That is, it's a time when it's hard to put all your eggs in one basket. To hope that one direction will feed you — obviously not. It's necessary to engage in different things, but it's very interesting.

Павялічыць

Dmitry Yesenevich and Mikhas Zuy as officials in the "ChinChinChannel" project

I see that here, in exile, many actors are trying their hand at directing, dramaturgy, and cultural management. When you work as an actor in a theatre, you usually sit in one place, and everything is done for you. Now, everything is different here: there's a dramatic work, and for it to come to life, you first need to go around pitching both the play and the project, writing to funds, seeking financing, finding a venue, and getting acquainted with things that we, as actors in Belarus, were very far removed from. And it seems to me that this is happening, it's a good direction — to be able to understand all of this.

— What role does the Belarusian language play in your creative work?

— For me, if there's an opportunity to participate in a Belarusian-language project, I will always gladly do it. And when it comes to music, for example, I have no question about which language to write a song in — of course, in Belarusian. On "ChinChins," of course, we have a format where officials won't speak Belarusian, but even there, thanks to the character of Alena ZhaludOk, the Belarusian language appears on the channel.

And plays... It seems to me I haven't performed plays in another language for a long time. Only in Belarusian.

— What is the most difficult part of an actor's profession that the audience doesn't know about?

— Probably, to find something new in each role. Something interesting for yourself.

Because I, and many actors, have this: every time you start working on a new role, you feel like you don't know anything. Absolutely. Even though you have experience, you're like learning the profession anew.

And the most difficult is the period from feeling that you don't know anything, to the moment when something starts working out for you.

This first step, when you get somewhere and find something. This period of searching can often be very painful.

— Please complete the phrase: "Theatre for me is..."

— Theatre for me is, probably — a company, a team, friends. "Ours/one's own people" is the word that defines theatre for me.

— Do you have dreams? What are they about?

— Dreams... No. I don't have dreams. I have wishes and goals. There are aspirations, but no dreams. There are plans that cannot be realized now and perhaps never will be, while the best plans will at some point become goals and desires. That's how I see it. For example, the desire to go to Belarus — for me, that's a dream on pause.

— What would you wish for your colleagues and the audience on International Theatre Day?

— To colleagues... I would wish my colleagues — not to lose curiosity, not to lose that warm feeling when you come to "your people."

And to the audience, I also strongly wish not to lose curiosity both for the theatre and for the people on stage. And not to hide this interest within yourselves. If you know that a Belarusian performance is happening in your city, and you think:

"Oh, I'll go someday!" — I advise the audience: go now, because here and now, perhaps some actor or some team is losing faith, hope, and love for the profession. Come and say if you liked the performance, post about it, say: "That was great," if the performance wasn't good — don't be silent, say: "It was a bad performance."

I wish for our audience to exchange information about performances, not to be in their own bubble; we need to burst bubbles and build relationships, including through theatrical art. That, perhaps, is the main thing.

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