In truth, Generation Jeans is not much of a theatrical experience in terms of its staging, or acting, or other things I'll group together as "artifice". There's very little artifice. Mikolai Khalezin mostly paces back and forth on the stage, occasionally sitting down, a couple times changing into other jeans, mostly talking to the audience in his native tongue. (Subtitles are provided on a screen a little too high over his head.)

It's an odd thing that his clothing (costume) would have some real kitsch value if he were performing in Borat's newest movie or something like that. Looking at the press photos, and assuming, as I did, that his get-up is ironic, he looks like he's going for laughs. (Good marketing, I guess.)

There is, though, a real point to be made by his clothing. He begins the play talking about his experiences in the bootleg jeans market, a thriving industry under communism, apparently. He also bootlegged records, but the jeans were much more of an outward display of one's state of mind. In Belarus, 20 years or more ago, wearing jeans was a way of saying "I am free", if only silently and subtly.

There is, in fact, a moment during the show when Khalezin tries to get the audience to shout "I am free!" in unison. It fell a little flat this past Thursday evening, and he looked a little disappointed, asking, "Is this New York?" Frankly, I don't think we were ready. We didn't yet understand what was happening.

As I said, it didn't seem like much was happening. I even glanced at my watch a bit. He was telling stories about selling jeans under-cover, and how to get the most out of your record trades, and was starting to talk a little bit about his interactions with the police. For me, it didn't all really even begin to come together until, until he'd be in prison (represented what appeared to be bamboo rods lashed together) for a while. He was holding his "cell door" and talking about meditating, describing the visions and dreams he was having. Suddenly everything slowed down, as he took real moments of silence and just let the expansive soundscape fill the room. He repeated the exercise several times and one of the themes of the evening, and indeed the life of the Free Theatre and its, well, comrades, became clear. The Free Theatre escapes and helps their audience to escape through their minds and their creative imaginations. As sure as Khalezin used meditation in his cell to live in a better place for a short time, it is the task of theatres like his to help their fellow citizens to imagine something better. We could go on about something better, but let me simply say that I am a rather privileged U.S. who took a week off to see shows in New York, and even I was deeply affected by this moment of theatrical transportation. I can only begin to imagine what it would feel like to experience it in secret, in a tiny apartment in Minsk.

Incidentally, here's a map with an arrow pointing to Minsk, in Belarus.

Let me jump back to the beginning for a moment. Before the show started, the festival's producer, Mark Russell stepped out to give a very brief background summary about the BFR, and to mention something that we would not be seeing. As it turns out, the Public was not able to obtain in time the proper permits to allow the use of fire during the show (there's one problem you avoid in your home country by simply being illegal). "So," Russell said, "you'll know when it's happening, and you'll have to use your powerful theatrical imaginations." Now, do I like I did and just forget about that for now.

Eventually the show really started to come together. Khalezin gets out of jail and then proceeds to tell the story of one of the Czech Republic's famous Jan's, Jan Palach. From Wikipedia:

Czechoslovakia in August 1968 was designed to crush the liberalising reforms of Alexander Dubček's government during the Prague Spring. Palach died after setting himself on fire in Wenceslas Square in Prague, Czechoslovakia on 16 January 1969 in protest.

Palach's memory was a powerful served as inspiration for thousands during the Velvet Revolution 2 decades later. (Which resulted in playwright Vaclav Havel moving pretty much straight from his jail cell to a presidential office, and brings us full circle to the beginning of this post.)

Khalezin refers hung a picture of Palach on his cell door, and refers to Palach as his "friend". The music at this point was much more emotional and Khalezin didn't need acting, you could see the emotional on his face, in his eyes, and even in his body as he talked about Palach. Even remembering it now, I begin to get choked-up again.

Khalezin reached the end of the Palach story and after he told us how Palach died, he picked up a canister and poured a liquid over his head and shoulders. Then he pulled matches and a small piece of wood from his pocket and mimed lighting a fire. He covered his eyes and the music swelled, and I choked back my emotions for fear of losing it completely. He stood that way for what seemed like 3 minutes, before finishing Palach's story and moving on to the end of the show.

It was an incredibly powerful moment, and, in fact, I'm not sure if it would have been more powerful if they'd have gotten permits. I did find a picture of the moment in question from another production, and here it is.

At any rate ... Khalezin finished the show talking about Generation Jeans, an extolling us to be a part of it. He even passed out pieces of the jeans he had cut-up with scissors earlier in the evening. I got one. I put it in my pocket, I don't know what I'm going to do with it now, but I know I won't lose it.

The Office for a Democratic Belarus has great articles about the Free Theatre here and here. The second has a short interview and here's an excerpt.

The main subject of our plays is the question: who are we, us Belarusians today? It's a question which the official theatre is obviously not concerned with. We are at the heart of a conflict between the Soviet type aesthetic and all the other forms of creativity which are not tolerated by the regime.

It is time to understand why we Belarusians have found ourselves in such a situation. We have to stare ourselves in the face. Theatre without political goals adds nothing of value. That remains the triumph of middle class art. What we demand is liberty of expression.

Unfortunately, the last performance of the show is today, so it's probably a little late for me to be urging you to get there. If you can though, or if this show goes on tour, do get there. Even if it wasn't the best theatre I've ever seen, it's one of the best experiences I've ever had in a theater.