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THE FAIRY-CONQUEROR OF CHIMNEYSWEEPS
Drums beat, the gold of firemen’s helmets shines in the sun, the crowd thickens and the strange procession moves along Kamergersky Lane.
A melancholy man of the Chaplin type ceremoniously carries a burning rose. Above the crowd, baring his snow-white teach – a chimneysweep. Flames dance on torches. Girls in red with Geisha-white faces and plump women in orange dance – the colors of fire.
This is how, last week, Fire Protection Day was celebrated, with “The Fire People” the troupe from The Theatre of Fire. They call themselves a “troupe of operational fire reaction”: “if you’re short on fire, light, or warmth, it’s time to call in the experts.” Indeed they have plenty of fire of all kinds and colors spewing from top hats, mouths, fans, jump ropes and God knows what else… And fireworks, and juggling, and complex tricks. And clowns, and theatrics, and soft charm. The Fire People site Slava Polunin as a strong influence on their craft. Several of the actors studied in his school of street theatre “Jester” and The Academy of Fools, or took part in Polunin’s projects. They love the streets “because there are so many of them,” and the streets return their feelings.
A street carnival like this is a rare spectacle for Moscow. Bus passengers plaster against the windows. Drivers stuck in the traffic jam caused by the fire procession look on in wonder. “Hello! Hello! We’ve turned onto Petrovka, catch up!” a young woman with a camera yells into her cell phone. A ubiquitous white cape dances over the procession, not slowed down by its stilts: it stops at each street sign and waves its hand: well folks, this way! He doubles back to shake hands with a little boy sitting on his father’s shoulders and flies off, frightening the sales people in the boutique that happens to be along the way…The crowd, all the while growing and laughing, pours from Bolshaya Dmitrivka to Stoleshnikov, from Stoleshnikov to Petrovka, from Petrovsky Blvd to Tsvetnoy Blvd…to their final destination, to the Circus, in front of which a real fire show will be put on. There on Tsvetnoy Boulevard near the fountain with the clown, a clout of multicolored sparks plays and a young woman in a bridal dress dances, waving her blazing fan. And the White from his hear heavenly heights turns a music box, which softly turns out a line of soap bubbles, each reflecting the flames dancing nearby. And the sad clown breaths fire like a regular dragon… But the end of the festival on torturing question still remains: What did the stilted man in white symbolize? What was the point of his character? “You really didn’t get it?” Denis Vasiliev asks, surprised. He straightens up with pride to answer, “I’m the Fairy-Conqueror of the Chimneysweeps.”
4 May 2006
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