Rustems Galičs “All Men Are Villains!”

On November 29 at 6: 00 p.m. at the SPELET concert hall (96A Brīvības Street, Riga), Rustems Galičs, the actor and director based in New York and beloved by Riga audiences, will present his new program, “All Men Are Villains!” On this evening, two classics of Russian humor will meet on one stage: Anton Chekhov and Arkady Averchenko.

The audience can expect a concert in two parts: the first will feature stories by Anton Pavlovich Chekhov, and the second will feature works by Arkady Averchenko. The new program by the artist beloved by Riga audiences may seem unexpected. On the one hand, Chekhov. On the other, Averchenko. They are separated by almost a quarter of a century, different eras, and different intonations. And yet they will meet in Riga for a reason.

First, it should be remembered that before us there is not Chekhov right away, but at first Antonsha Chekhonte. A young medical student writing humorous stories, sketches, feuilletons, and witty dialogues and publishing in the magazines “Strekoza,” “Budilnik,” and “Oskolki.” It was precisely then that his astonishing talent was born: to create a living person with a few strokes.

And a little more than twenty years later, Arkady Averchenko literally bursts into Russian literature. He is called the “king of laughter.” He becomes one of the leading figures of the famous magazine “Satyricon.” And if Chekhonte more often smiles as if in secret, Averchenko laughs loudly, contagiously, and with delight. But the object of their attention is remarkably similar.

Neither writer invents anecdotes at all. They observe life. Their characters are the most ordinary people: officials, summer residents, spouses, neighbors, passengers, casual acquaintances. People who endlessly act important, argue, take offense, get tangled up in their own words, and sometimes become funnier than any professional comedian.

There is another common trait. Neither Chekhov nor Averchenko laughs at people, they laugh with people. Their humor is born of recognition. We smile because we suddenly catch ourselves thinking: “But that’s me... Or my neighbor... Or someone very familiar.”

But there is also an important difference between the two writers. Antonsha Chekhonte’s laughter gradually becomes quieter and deeper. Behind the smile, light sadness, compassion, and an understanding of human weakness are felt more and more often. From the cheerful Chekhonte, the great Chekhov gradually emerges, the author of “The Lady with the Dog,” “The Cherry Orchard,” and “Three Sisters.”

Averchenko seems to take up the baton, but carries it in a different time, one that is fast, loud, and nervous. His laughter becomes brighter, sharper. But the foundation remains the same: love for people and an unerring ability to see the funny side of everyday life.

On November 29, the audience will not see two authors who happened to end up side by side, but two chapters in one great history of Russian humor. A history in which first comes the light, almost shy smile of Antonsha Chekhonte, and then it turns into Arkady Averchenko’s open, heartfelt laughter.