Ukrainian‑born, Russian actor Nikolay Mulakov returns to the London stage in Vanya Is Alive, a powerful new production running at Jermyn Street Theatre. The solo piece, written by Natalia Lizorkina and directed by Ivanka Polchenko, explores the human cost of state oppression and the fight for truth.
Performed by an all‑Russian creative team now working outside their home country, the production has gained international attention for its raw storytelling and its unflinching portrayal of propaganda, grief and resistance. Mulakov performs all seventeen characters in this urgent and politically resonant work.
Vanya Is Alive runs from 25 to 28 March at Jermyn Street Theatre. Tickets are available here.
You’re starring in Vanya Is Alive at Jermyn Street Theatre, what can you tell us about the show?
For me, Vanya Is Alive is what I call real theatre. At first glance, there is almost nothing – but if you look closer, you can see a powerful text, an actor, a human being, and a director who very carefully lights and shapes the inner life in a very precise rhythm.
By “look closer”, I mean taking into consideration a larger context of the show and the response of every audience member in the theatre.
It’s quite an autonomous piece. It invites each person to decide for themselves what is actually happening and to connect their own feelings to it.
In a way, the performance happens in the audience. For me, it’s incredibly interesting to be in this position – between expectations, guesses, thoughts – knowing just a little bit more about what might come next.
“Vanya Is Alive” sees you perform all seventeen roles. How did you prepare for such a physically and emotionally demanding piece?
The preparation usually starts about two weeks before the show. We begin by working on the text, which helps me to focus internally.
Before the performance, I normally spend an hour repeating the text on my own as fast as I can. Sometimes I do it with a cork in my mouth, as it really helps with articulation. English is not my mother tongue, and the text must be very clear for those coming to watch the show.
Afterwards, I go for an hour’s walk, and then to the theatre. There I do vocal work, a few exercises, warm up the body, and stay in the dressing room. Usually alone, in my thoughts, as it helps me. Sometimes I listen to music. Or I talk to Ivanka, the director of the show.
The play tackles themes of truth, propaganda and life under oppression. How does your own lived experience influence the way you approach this material?
Before moving to London, I worked for about ten years at Moscow’s Teatr.doc. It’s an independent theatre, which is unusual for Russia, where almost all theatres are state-funded. We survived entirely on ticket sales and talked about what mattered to us: political prisoners, LGBT people, migrants, war, and real people.
Teatr.doc was founded by playwrights Mikhail Ugarov and Elena Gremina and became a cult venue that greatly influenced the development of documentary theatre in Russia. In many ways, it emerged thanks to the verbatim technique following a Royal Court Theatre workshop in 2000. For me, this connection with British theatre is important.
But after 2012, things became much tougher. The theatre lost its venue several times; performances were cancelled, doors were welded shut, and people were arrested. On one occasion, someone attempted to throw a toxic substance into the auditorium, and on another, people stormed the stage to disrupt a performance. Intelligence service officers were often present at the shows – and over time I even began to recognise some of them.
And yet we carried on working. It wasn’t just about theatre; it was about the right to speak.
This experience had a profound impact on me. It taught me that theatre is about honesty, about stripping away everything superfluous, leaving only the human being and the facts, where presence and testimony are stronger than any interpretation.
In Vanya Is Alive, this is combined with a more artistic, poetic approach brought by Ivanka Polchenko, who has worked at the Petr Fomenko Theatre and with Peter Brook in London and Paris. This gives the material a completely different perspective. For me, this combination is very important.
In 2022, I had to leave Russia urgently. I had a guitar, $300 and a one-way ticket. For almost a year I moved between countries – Georgia, Armenia, Azerbaijan, Germany, France – before ending up in the UK. And to be honest, I still sometimes feel that you might be watched, even here.
That’s why this material isn’t abstract to me. It’s very personal.
The story follows Alya’s search for answers after losing a child to war. What aspect of this narrative resonates with you most strongly as a performer?
What touches me most is the theme of a mother without her son.
I haven’t seen my own family for five years since I left Russia. I cannot go back. Sometimes I imagine my mother, and I feel very sorry for her, and for myself.
But there are also moments in the play that I really love. The scene with the doctor, when someone rejects the system and suddenly shows empathy. Or the moment at the cemetery when the heroine shares a sweet with her son’s friend.
These examples of friendship, compassion and human connection really touch me.
The play has travelled internationally and cannot currently be staged in Russia. What does it mean to you to share this work in London at this moment in time?
For me, this is an opportunity – a chance for me as a person, an actor and an artist to survive.
I have a strong desire to live in a world where it’s possible to do what I love, where it’s possible to express my feelings and opinions, even if such a world can feel illusory. I want non-Russian speakers, people who do not understand what is happening in Russia, to experience this not through newspapers, social media or the news, but through the presence of a living person here and now.
It is remarkable that the author, Natalia Lizorkina, has used the power of the written word to lay bare the inner workings of people’s minds with such precision, capturing a documentary-like rawness and vulnerability. I believe theatre can convey this.
I want the audience to see, first and foremost, fellow human beings rather than citizens.
What would you say to anyone thinking of booking to see Vanya Is Alive?
I would like the audience not to read articles or search for meanings and contexts, but to come to the performance with their own thoughts and try to form their own opinion.
For me, this play has an incredible independence. There is so much humour, so many human relationships, and maybe some surprises. Even if you know nothing, it creates its own world.
I really believe in this text. For me, Vanya Is Alive is a play of immense significance – it will definitely outlive me.
