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MARIUPOL DRAMA. Photo by Tiberi Shiutiv
MARIUPOL DRAMA. Photo by Tiberi Shiutiv

Mariupol Drama: Review

Home » Reviews » Mariupol Drama: Review

The staging is simple: four straight-backed chairs, a backdrop for projections and, overhead, two rows of clothing hung on lines (theatre is a place for costumes and dressing-up, but also, we are reminded, the theatre we are here to pay our respects to was offering shelter to diverse innocents from across the Ukrainian city of Mariupol).

MARIUPOL DRAMA. Vira Lebedynska, Matvii Kytrysh, Ihor Kytrysh and Olena Bila Photo by Tiberi Shiutiv
MARIUPOL DRAMA. Vira Lebedynska, Matvii Kytrysh, Ihor Kytrysh and Olena Bila Photo by Tiberi Shiutiv

The bare facts: on 16th March 2022, Russian forces committed a war crime (as designated by Amnesty International) by deliberately bombing the Donetsk Academic Regional Drama Theatre in Mariupol (known colloquially as Mariupol Drama). At the time of the attack the theatre was sheltering non-combatants and the Russian word for ‘Children’ was displayed in two places in letters large enough to be seen by pilots.

Throughout the one hour event, dialogue is, appropriately, delivered in Ukrainian with English surtitles.

From the outset, with the pre-recorded message from President Zelenskyy, it is wise to consider ourselves spectators at a public inquiry, rather than a conventional theatre audience. Four people (three adults and one child) come on stage, dragging travel luggage. Their aim is to bear witness to the horrors they lived through for, although their words have been worked into performable text by Oleksandr Gavrosh, these four (Olena Bila, Ihor Kytrysh and their son, Matvii, along with Vira Lebedynska) are telling their own stories.

MARIUPOL DRAMA. Matvii Kytrysh, Vira Lebedynska, Olena Bila and Ihor Kytrysh. Photo by Tiberi Shiutiv
MARIUPOL DRAMA. Matvii Kytrysh, Vira Lebedynska, Olena Bila and Ihor Kytrysh. Photo by Tiberi Shiutiv

The adults all worked at the theatre, but had very different attitudes towards Mariupol the city. Olena and Ihor “love it” and save 20 years on their meagre wages to buy a flat. Vira hates it – the industrial city is “dirty, the air is dirty,” sullying her clothing. Mariupol is the home of iron and steel works, and Matvii needs to use an inhaler.

Hundreds of people, most with no connection to the theatre, had retreated there for sanctuary from Russian bombardment (Vira is horrified to find them tearing out seats from the auditorium to use for comfort or fuel). When Vira herself relocates there, she dons her best fur coat so that, if the worst happens she can die like a “real lady.” Meanwhile, in a typical clash between childish and parental priorities, Matvii has a sulk because his favourite plasticine figures (Superman, Batman and the Joker) are left behind. For the most part, as Ihor tells us, even when war is nearby, “you live your normal life – work, sleep… fall in love.”

Recalling her panic attack in the darkness of the theatre’s basement – “It’s too dark to breathe!” – Olena pleads with us to turn on the torches from our phones (lights shine out across the auditorium). The army arrives with fridges from bombed out businesses and sets up a field kitchen – but mostly there is neither lighting nor heating and temperatures, even in March, dip to minus 10.

MARIUPOL DRAMA. Vira Lebedynska. Photo by Tiberi Shiutiv
MARIUPOL DRAMA. Vira Lebedynska. Photo by Tiberi Shiutiv

Key to the experience is not losing sight of the fact that these four human beings are not acting so much as voluntarily reliving their personal trauma. How touching to watch Olena’s phone video of a younger, smaller, happier Matvii running through a multi-coloured ornamental fountain just outside the theatre.

As the situation deteriorates, the maternity hospital is bombed and soon one floor of the theatre building is home to heavily pregnant women, and mothers with newborn babes.

And then, at around 10am on 16 March, the theatre suffers two direct hits. By this time, Olena, Ihor and Matvii have left to take their chances on the road. Vira remains, clambering out through the dust and rubble, stepping over the dead and the wounded.

MARIUPOL DRAMA. Vira Lebedynska. Photo by Tiberi Shiutiv
MARIUPOL DRAMA. Vira Lebedynska. Photo by Tiberi Shiutiv

The tears and the standing ovation are our tribute to human resilience (the courage of the four performers), and also the sharp, bitter tang of, “There, but for the grace of God…”

Mariupol Drama is a necessary reminder that the majority who fall victim to modern military violence are non-combatant civilians. These people didn’t ask for war, and yet suffer the brunt of its devastation. Thanks to Vira, Olena, Ihor and Matvii, tonight we feel this as well as think it.

Mariupol Drama – A True Story Told By Those Who Were There s at Home, Manchester from 14 -18 January 2025. Age recommendation 16+

Martin
Written by
Martin Thomasson

A winner (with Les Smith) of the Manchester Evening News award for Best New Play, Martin taught script-writing at the universities of Bolton and Salford, before becoming an adjudicator and mentor for the 24:7 theatre festival. Over the years, in addition to drama, Martin has seen more ballet and contemporary dance than is wise for a man with two left feet, and much more opera than any other holder of a Grade 3 certificate in singing.

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Martin Written by Martin Thomasson