Remember that time I don’t speak a lick of Russian? I don’t speak a lick of Russian. I’m trying to figure out whether it’s rude or attentive to stare at someone when they’re talking to you, before the translator translates, even though you have no idea what’s they’re saying. At all. Rude? scary? Attentive? Fortunately! I have these guys: Maxim, who is rumored to be the best Russian contemporary playwright (L, who speaks a lick) and Mikael, director (who speaks less of a lick:)
Fortunately for ALL of us, we have Marina, my translator:
Marina’s English is nearly perfect and she picked it up in Texas. She’s already done a fantastic job translating a first draft of the play. But in case you’re wondering why that guy is holding that giant empty thing of water – Marina took beats in the script (pauses) as, well, beats. So this actor literally beat out the beats through the entire first read. Which was kind of incredible. Also, I loved how each actor read all of their own stage directions, and did some super simple lovely work. I was able to follow along with my iPAD PRODUCT PLACEMENT pretty smoothly. In other news, Russians have no context really for corndogs and mimosas are Russian salads. And in case you’re wondering if the The Rapist / therapy joke translates, it definitely does.