Jack Studio Theatre 2 – 13 May. Reviewed by Claire Roderick
The stories of the victims of Chernobyl comes to the Jack Studio Theatre in a moving and powerful bilingual production.
My strongest memories of the Chernobyl disaster in 1986 are BBC interviews with academics and farmers worrying about whether Welsh lamb would still be edible, so listening to the accounts of the locals carrying on growing and eating their own vegetables is mindboggling. Germán D’Jesús’s adaptation of Svetlana Alexievich’s book of interviews has a lot to cram into 60 minutes, but the choices made have resulted in a play that feels complete and well-balanced.
The accounts of innocent locals whose faith in the state’s protection are intermingled with the cold and despairing reports of scientists, the bravado of the soldiers brought in to tackle the disaster, and the official party line – creating an emotional whirlwind of sympathy, disbelief, anger and amazement at the strength of the human spirit to carry on.
The words of the victims are often poetic in Keith Gessen’s translation, with some bittersweet moments as the citizens of Pripyat watching Chernobyl burn with the awe of a crowd at a firework display – “We didn’t know that death could be so beautiful”. The casualness of the population because of the lack of immediate visible damage to the environment seems unbelievable now, but the cold war rhetoric spouted by the officials reminds the audience why these people were so naïve and trusting of the state. “It was a conspiracy of ignorance and obedience.” Mind blowing.
The Anglo-Russian cast multirole brilliantly, with Oleg Sidorchik a force of nature as various officials and soldiers. His words are mostly translated using projections, but the scene where his manic, gesture-filled rant is translated coldly in a serene monotone by the luminous Karina Knapinska is fantastically funny. There is a lot of irony and gallows humour in the play, and the pace of the different stories is fast and makes you want to learn more about these characters (I’ve ordered the book already); but the final story changes the tone completely. Kim Christie comes on stage as the young wife of one of the firemen who first tackled the fire, without any protective gear. Christie is phenomenal as she tells of watching her husband die from radioactive poisoning. Her tale is full of well-meaning stupidity by medical staff, her own lies and guilt about her pregnancy, and is given the time to let the horrors and emotion sink in. The play ends with rising anger and despair, but the undercurrent of love and admiration for the sacrifices some of these people made remains.
Voices From Chernobyl is a stunning play that hits hard, reminding us of the human cost of nuclear power, but also celebrates the power of love. Wonderful, just wonderful.