Timofey Kulyabin: “There is more lack of freedom in me now”

Timofey Kulyabin is part of the wave of exiled Russian directors who have firmly spoken out against the Russian invasion of Ukraine. Until 2022, his life was defined by a prolific activity in theatre and opera. Since 2015, he has been the artistic director of the “Red Torch” Academic State Theatre in Novosibirsk, where he began working immediately after graduating from the Russian Institute of Theatre Arts (GITIS) in 2007. Considered one of the most innovative directors of his generation, Kulyabin has been recognised with numerous awards (including three Golden Mask awards and the title of “Person of the Year 2010” in Novosibirsk, in the culture and arts category). For Kulyabin, “theatre as family” was not just a cliché but literally reflected the proximity to his parents, with whom he worked in the same institution: his father, Alexander Kulyabin, being the director at “Red Torch,” and his mother, Irina Kulyabin, deputy director for international relations and special projects.

Since 2022, theater has remained the only constant in the director’s life in exile. Timofey Kulyabin resigned from his position at “Red Torch,” and his name and productions disappeared from the posters of Russian theatres. His father, Alexander Kulyabin, was arrested in 2023,¹ accused of abuse of office and embezzlement. Today, Timofey Kulyabin lives in Germany and continues to direct in European theatres, including the Deutsches Theater in Berlin, the Residenztheater in Munich, and the “Ivan Vazov” National Theater in Sofia.

The theatre goers in Romania probably remember the Russian director for the unique staging of Chekhov’s play Three Sisters, a performance entirely in sign language that opened FITS in 2018. This production from “Red Torch”, considered a milestone of the new Russian psychological theatre, illustrates the radical interpretation with which Kulyabin approaches classic texts. As he often states, theatre, if it wants to be alive and close to the public, must speak in the language (or silences) of the contemporary spectator.

This year’s FITS program includes the production In the Solitude of Cotton Fields (2022), which presented another directorial challenge for Kulyabin. The play, written by French playwright Bernard-Marie Koltès in 1987, depicts a secret and ambiguous encounter where two strangers, a dealer and a client (played by Ingeborga Dapkūnaitė and John Malkovich), negotiate something unclear. The negotiation becomes a stake in itself, suffocating the beings involved in this psychological game. Kulyabin questions how much of the ambiguity of this mysterious encounter and existential duality can be revealed and transposed into a contemporary reality, reflecting on the loneliness and alienation in modern society.

At the end of May, I found Timofey Kulyabin in Athens, preparing a new show – Iphigenia in Aulis (by Euripides), which will open the series of performances in the ancient theatre arena in Epidaurus. Before the online interview, I intended to avoid the topic of the war, but as we started talking, I was instinctively drawn to this uncomfortable subject for both of us. When asked how he felt before making his prompt anti-war statement, he replied that he did not understand how it could be otherwise. We later agreed not to discuss political topics and the war, so as not to influence his father’s ongoing trial in Russia. Yet, Kulyabin promised to speak about these issues in detail once everything is behind him. Meanwhile, paradoxically, his shows convey everything Timofey Kulyabin feels and believes about the grim present.

So now you’re in Athens, rehearsing Iphigenia in Aulis by Euripides for the Epidaurus Festival. I know that you often approach dramatic texts in a way that keeps the author very present, not by adhering strictly to every word, but by preserving a certain essence while adapting it to the current world. What essence are you preserving now? What does the sacrifice represent in your interpretation?

Timofey Kulyabin: It is quite difficult to discuss the show without revealing too much because the idea of sacrifice is central to the whole concept. My interpretation focuses on the technology of war. It’s not about, for example, Agamemnon’s struggle between his homeland and his duty as a father. Instead, the conflict in my concept lies elsewhere. It’s about how war functions, as the play revolves around war and its mechanisms. The essence is how the necessity of war requires a sacrifice, and my show explains this technology of war.

What is striking in Euripides’ text is that everyone is eager for the sacrifice to be made so a terrible war can start. The cause is neither noble nor pure—they are not sacrificing Iphigenia to stop the war, but quite the opposite. This was the norm in those times. Do you think we’re still doing things the same way today?

Timofey Kulyabin: Unfortunately, we realise today that we haven’t progressed far from ancient times. War has resurfaced, not as something unusual or extraordinary, but as a norm in the 21st century. Sadly, these themes and texts remain relevant simply because there’s a real war, there’s killing, and there are already occupied territories. This unfortunate reality keeps these plays relevant. It’s disheartening because no one wants war, but, unfortunately, it continues and will likely persist.

In the Solitude of Cotton Fields, the performance that the Romanian audience will see at FITS this year, premiered in 2022, a very dark period for you I assume. What attracted you to Koltès’ text? Did you read it as many do – a last attempt by a man to stay alive before suicide?

Timofey Kulyabin: Koltès’ text is about an internal conflict that is impossible to resolve. This conflict divides a man into two parts, and he can’t deal with it. The only way out is suicide because it’s impossible to live with this internal struggle. This idea emerged long ago, before recent events. The initial theme I took from Koltès, the base for my concept, is a secret desire of an erotic nature, specifically about homosexual relations. The play was written in the 80s when this topic was highly restricted.

It was a taboo…

Timofey Kulyabin: Yes. But now it’s not the case anymore, so I had to find an equivalent. The sexual desire, the perversion we tackle in the show, is criminal and condemned by society, judged harshly by people. This theme of sexual obsession creates the essence of the show. It’s not easy to understand. Initially, we didn’t deliberately choose this topic; we just arrived at the theme of paedophilia, which is quite relevant today. Even in the most democratic countries, there are strict laws against it. We used this theme as an analogue for the homosexual relations in the 80s that were very relevant to Koltès. The rest of the show is constructed around this, but it’s not something overt. The emphasis isn’t strong, but you can catch it if you pay attention.

Overall, the show is about a man who cannot live with this internal conflict. He is confessing to himself, unable to accept it, yet part of him does accept it. These two sides are in constant conflict, his dual nature fighting this socially banned vice. There can be no winner because this situation cannot be resolved. In simple terms, the man goes mad and, due to this internal conflict, takes his own life.

Koltès’ text is full of allusions, but it doesn’t reveal, or it is difficult for the reader to understand, the dark secret. In your project, the audience gets closer to something that looks like a revelation; they better understand what the secret is. Why did you feel the need to reveal it?

Timofey Kulyabin: Koltès’ text is very difficult, first because it is very philosophical, and also because it can always be viewed from different angles. It presents a conditional, philosophical situation—two men in an indistinct place, under unclear circumstances. As a director, I need to have a clear understanding of what I am doing. I can’t present something abstract in an abstract way. I have to be specific with the visual images, the themes, and the meanings. It was my decision to be more explicit in this regard.

I know that you’ve previously worked with Ingeborga Dapkūnaitė (for the The Broken Jug), but not with John Malkovich. How was it to work with both of them?

Timofey Kulyabin: The story is quite simple. I worked with Ingeborga on Kleist’s The Broken Jug at The Theatre of Nations (Moskow), where she played one of the main roles (Walter, the counsellor). We formed a good working relationship, and she expressed a desire to collaborate more. On the other hand, Ingeborga and John have a long history of working together in theatre, dating back over 20 years. They are magnificent partners, and sometimes two actors just fit perfectly together. This is exactly that situation.

They are a perfect stage couple.

Timofey Kulyabin: Exactly. They have a lot of experience working together, but in the past 5-6 years, they hadn’t had the chance to collaborate. Ingeborga suggested trying something with John, and of course, I agreed. Our dramaturg, Roman Dolzhansky, immediately thought of Koltès’ In the Solitude of Cotton Fields, which is perfect for two actors. John read it and was interested, and that’s how the project started. Initially, we rehearsed on Zoom, which was common during Covid times and also due to the distance. We worked extensively on the text, reducing it by about 50-60%. Then we met in Riga, and we mostly completed the show in two weeks.

Is it not usually risky to intervene in a dynamic that is already established – John and Ingeborga having this long-lasting relationship and you coming from outside with a very precise idea?

Timofey Kulyabin: At first, one might see it that way. However, in theatre, there should always be a risk (he smiles). If there’s no risk, it’s not interesting. But during the process of working with them, I didn’t encounter any issues. It was so easy, and they truly understand each other. John and Ingeborga have impressive discipline. They don’t have any celebrity syndrome; they follow everything the director asks of them. As actors, they are really easy to work with for a director. It was both easy and pleasant to work with them.

Going back to precision in your work, you have a lot of experience with different theatre ensembles in Russia and various theatre companies in Europe, and you’ve worked extensively in opera. What makes all these artists trust you completely and follow you?

Timofey Kulyabin: I construct my work in a way that is clear and indeed precise. I know exactly what I want. Usually, actors follow me easily because they see that I have a clear vision. When actors are given specific, precise tasks, they will follow. There’s no secret to it.

Maybe you also create a very safe space, and compared to the real world, the actors enjoy this more.

Timofey Kulyabin: Actors are doing a very concrete job. They follow your lead because you’re worthy of trust. I always trust the artists I work with. I’m not a dictator saying, “This is my way and that’s all.” I’m very flexible; I can change my decisions and adapt to the actors, seeing what is more suitable for them. I’m in constant dialogue with them. I trust the artists and try to make them trust me from the first encounters.

As I’ve noticed, you predominantly work with big, classic texts. Why not contemporary plays?

Timofey Kulyabin: It’s rather a matter of taste. I like to take on texts that have a rich history of being staged. I’m not only communicating with the text but also engaging in a dialogue with its iconography, its reception, and its various interpretations over time. I haven’t worked much with what are considered contemporary plays, although Koltès can be seen as contemporary (however, I would classify him as a classic of the 20th century). I prefer texts that have stood the test of time. I’m always interested in seeing how something written in the past functions today—what remains relevant and what doesn’t. How can we make a text written 100-200 years ago sound as if it was written today? I enjoy this extra challenge when working with such texts.

Some Russian theatre critics refer to your directorial style as “theatre of interpretation”. How do you think your directorial style has evolved throughout the years? I noticed you’ve moved from a more physical theatre with more movement to a rather conceptual style. What’s your take on this?

Timofey Kulyabin: I’ve gone through different stages over the years, each time wanting to explore different things—whether working with the text or the directorial language. As a result, my productions are very different from one another. I often set myself the task of finding something new, a new directorial language, and the more contrasting, the better. I don’t know if I always succeed, but I try not to repeat myself. The techniques and methods I use vary because I’m interested in keeping them different.

You’re convinced that theatre cannot change the world and that its maximum impact is to offer the audience moments for reflection and the impulse to be more empathetic. I often ask myself and other artists: why are you doing art, and for whom are you doing theatre?

Timofey Kulyabin: In answering “for whom,” it’s simply a demand for this kind of work. We’re actually doing theatre for a very small number of people. Art theatre is not for the masses; it is not cinema. There is this peculiar desire I have—to arrive in a building where people, whether in costumes or not, are prepared to tell a story and transmit certain information. It’s a method of communication. Some people need it, others don’t. For me, the theatre is a space where I am an artist, a creator. I create conditions, a life on stage that are interesting to me. Simplifying it, people on stage walk and behave as I direct them. I am entirely the master (he smiles). This is very intriguing, like a child playing with toys, creating a world of their own. They become completely absorbed in the game, fantasising because there’s no such freedom in real life. In theatre I am completely free. Free in my methods of composition, creation, and imagination. In life, you encounter all sorts of limitations—social, moral etc. But in art, under the right circumstances, there are no such limitations.

But what about the outside world? Do you perceive more freedom now?

Timofey Kulyabin: It’s the same. I would say there is more lack of freedom in me now because there is less freedom in the world.

Don’t you perceive more freedom in terms of free movement and projects to work on?

Timofey Kulyabin: I’ve been working abroad for a long time, so I had the flexibility to move freely before as well. I can’t say that anything has essentially changed for me in that regard. The change now is that I am not producing any shows in Russia. I was already working abroad previously, but yes, my daily life has changed now. I can’t be in Russia. Formally, I have my residence in a different country. All these things are new to me. But from the point of view of work, essentially nothing new has happened – I was doing theatre and I continue to do theatre.

Where is home for you now, Timofey?

Timofey Kulyabin: In my luggage.

But you are based in Germany, right?

Timofey Kulyabin: At the moment, when I have a break between projects… Yes, my second luggage with my winter clothes is in Berlin.

The comforting part might be that you still have the chance to work with people you used to work with, like Roman Dolzhansky and Oleg Golovko (scenographer and designer). You’re not alone, and the team is still there in a way.

Timofey Kulyabin: Yes, this is the team I have worked with for many years in different projects. But everyone in this team is in the same situation as I am. They are people who now have to work outside Russia. They all have left the country.

Can you tell us what is happening now at “Red Torch” (Novosibirsk Drama Theatre), where you have been the chief stage director for years?

Timofey Kulyabin: The team has changed considerably. The administrative team is completely new, and in the artistic team,² they have hired new actors while some from the ensemble I worked with have left. I would say it’s a completely different theatre now. They still have some performances from my “era”, probably because it’s difficult to erase everything overnight, but the artistic concept is radically different from what it was when I was there.

You often said that your theatre is not political (and it definitely wasn’t), but it still attracted a lot of attention and debate. Do you still feel the same?

Timofey Kulyabin: I said that long ago, but much has changed since then. My recent shows— Macbeth by W. Shakespeare (Frankfurt Drama Theatre), Fear and Misery of the Third Reich by Bertolt Brecht (Tallinn Drama Theatre), Iphigenia in Aulis (Argolic Theatre, Athens)—are connected with current events, and we can refer to them as somehow political. This is my reaction to what has happened. So yes, to a great extent, they have become more political, with a more political message. It’s not just about family drama and relationships; it’s more about society. But I find this a normal response to our current events.

What makes you move forward now?

Timofey Kulyabin: First, the circumstances make me because I simply have to. Second, all these huge changes that happened and affected my life have, on the contrary, given me fuel. It didn’t stop me but made me create more theatre and stage more productions. It became a means of not going crazy. If I didn’t do anything and just thought about what is going on around, I would feel depressed and probably wouldn’t be able to do anything. That’s why work for me is a method of not running away from problems and not becoming overwhelmed with sadness. When I am rehearsing, when I am working, it matters only what happens in the room.

Cover photo: Courtesy of the personal collection of director Timofey Kulyabin.

The interview was translated from Russian and edited for clarity and conciseness.

(A shorter version of the interview appeared in the special edition of Capital Cultural magazine, No. 37)

1. After Timofey Kulyabin made strong statements against the war and left Russia, his father, Alexander Kulyabin, was dismissed in December 2022 from his position as director of “Red Torch” Academic State Theater in Novosibirsk, a role he had held for 23 years. In January 2023, Alexander was placed under house arrest, accused of embezzling 1.8 million rubles. According to the publication “Siberian Express,” additional charges of abuse of office resulting in serious consequences were also added to the indictment. The maximum penalty for these charges is ten years of imprisonment. The case is still ongoing. ↩︎
2. The new artistic director of “Red Torch” Academic State Theater is Andrey Prikotenko, appointed on January 17, 2023. Prikotenko is a renowned Russian artist, best known for his tenure as the main stage director of the Stary Dom Theatre in Novosibirsk. In Romania, he might be known for his production “Sociopath/Hamlet,” which opened the 12th edition of TESZT. ↩︎