English Summary
Editor’s Letter
By Igor Garanin
(page 30)
New Year’s is a special holiday. Nobody is capable of remaining indifferent to it. Even a demonstrative desire to go to bed at 9 p.m. on the evening of December 31st speaks to a deep childhood trauma imposed by Father Frost, or the fact that you have another way of celebrating: for some it could be more important to celebrate Christmas.
For the less principled among us, each December 31st is the day to go to the bathhouse, as instructed by Eldar Ryazanov, the most important director of Russia’s pre‑New Year show. But who goes to the bathhouse these days? Any resident of the big city will feel like he’s in a hothouse long before the bells chime on Red Square. Take for example the battle for tickets to The Nutcracker. A great unconscious feeling akin to “in our family we always went to the Bolshoi on December 31st to listen to Chaikovsky” starts up in October, when ticket sales start for New Year’s productions. Nobody can explain what is so special about what happens on the stage of our most important theater on that day, or why they’re willing to stand in line from 4 a.m. or pay resellers an arm and a leg for tickets.
The most important argument is that you’re creating a New Year’s mood. As for me, I find running around to the other end of the city just to get a glimpse of the sluggish corps de ballet on the last day of the year (which was in and of itself difficult and exhausting — it’s not clear why but we don’t have any other kind in Russia) means that I will kill the last remnants of festivity in me. How will you have time to make the traditional Olivier salad? Who will chop it up and mix in the homemade mayonnaise? You can’t just buy it ready-made, like you would on any other given day after work. No, this time that won’t do — you have to take the holiday into your own hands.