How Caesar raised Cleopatra. To myself on the laurel wreath... Desert. Night. Silently majestic Sphinx, doused with the light of the eternal stars, and a man of old age in chlamyd, speaking to him as an equal. Thus begins Caesar and Cleopatra (Bernard Shaw). And you responsibly tune in to the serious work of the soul and mind, for this is a historical drama ... it seems. ?
And then something unimaginable begins. So much humor, sincerity, warmth, unexpected plot twists! Immediately recall the performances of the Russian drama of Bashkiria, their inherent ease and irony. And now you relax, and selflessly watch how an inexperienced girl, frightened by the cry of her teacher, the formidable Phtatitta, which even hardened warriors fear, becomes a true queen, how, under the leadership of a Roman commander, a politician is filled with an awareness of strength and power, wisdom, and how from the next after her Teacher becomes her own path.
In the end, a very young Cleopatra (Nikki M. James) will recite to Caesar himself (Christopher Plummer), at whose feet lies half the world, reminding him, and not only him, on occasion: “I am the queen.” There is no question that the student is worthy of her teacher. And Caesar was a hundred times right when he said, “This is the greatest of my mistakes.”
Caesar as a mentor, almost a father, and Cleopatra as a pupil, almost a daughter?! If memory is right for me – and I hope so – historians have treated their relationship... hmm... somewhat differently. I mean, different. And here. Very, you know, original... Some phrases are still remembered: “You can’t give you more than sixty in this helmet.” The comments, as they say, are superfluous.
So, in the company of a close friend, “sisters in the Zodiac”, the production of the Shakespeare Festival in Stratford (Canada) ended my stay in St. Petersburg. Within a month I had become so used to the British diet that I am afraid I will soon begin to “break” and have to somehow get out of this situation. But that's another story altogether...