Kenneth Lin’s Kleptocracy is a play set almost entirely in Russia from the mid-‘90s to the early-‘00s, but the current American mood is always at the forefront of this Arena Stage world premiere. As Robert Mueller’s investigation of Russian interference in the 2016 election hums along, the show feels like context to the daily barrage of headlines, an origin story of sorts.
Donald Trump is only referenced once, obliquely. Late in Kleptocracy, Vladimir Putin tells a White House official that one day, “your President will be my dog.” Cue the laugh track. Whether the statement is historical matters not; it feels unnecessarily obvious, an instance of telling versus showing. Why put so fine a point on a play that acts as a nearly two-hour-long Chekhov’s gun, one that would eventually fire on November 8, 2016?
Kleptocracy, directed by Jackson Gay, is ostensibly about Vladimir Putin’s rise to power following the collapse of the Soviet Union. Our true protagonist, however, is Mikhail Khodorkovsky, a real-life former Communist Youth League deputy who became the owner of Yukos, a massive oil company, and the wealthiest man in Russian history.
Played by the stolid Max Woertendyke, Mikhail is hardly the white knight of this story. Early on, he orders the murder of a political opponent, whose ghost comes to haunt him like Hamlet’s father. To his credit, Mikhail later reckons with past sins and attempts to reform his soul by transforming into a philanthropist, the most sympathetic snake in this den of vipers. Still, he’s no Jean Valjean. There are, in fact, no heroes here.
As is the case nowadays, Putin’s diminutive frame casts a long shadow. Christopher Geary’s reimagining of the dictator is both menacing and impish, at once terrifying and fanciful. His Putin doesn’t just duel with Khodorkovsky in this fencing match. He’s also a fourth-wall-breaking emcee straight out of Cabaret, directing musical cues and interacting with the audience during scene changes.
Kleptocracy is an unsatisfying play, heavy on plot and light on characterization. I haven’t mentioned any other characters—and there are many—because they’re mere locomotives for its barreling narrative. But the show is visually stunning, particularly with its innovative use of lighting and shadow puppetry, courtesy of set designer Misha Kachman, lighting designer Masha Tsimring, and puppet consultant Ksusha Litvak.
Arena Stage’s program for Kleptocracy comes equipped with charts and graphs about state corruption, hard data backed by footnotes. The insinuation, which isn’t very subtle, is that Russia didn’t move towards the American ideal after the Cold War. The reverse instead, is true.
Kleptocracy at Arena Stage runs through February 24. Tickets $76-$105. Runtime approximately one hour and 45 minutes with one intermission.
