An Exiled Russian Actress Takes Center Stage in San Francisco

The play Our Class unearths real events from a Polish village at the start of the Holocaust in 1941, but it gets at something universal: How prejudice, amplified and exploited by those in power, can drive ordinary people to despicable acts of violence.

Written by Tadeusz Słobodzianek in 2008, Our Class runs at San Francisco’s Z Space March 27–April 5. It follows a class of five Catholic and five Jewish students, tracing their lives before and after a massacre in which the Catholic residents of the Nazi-occupied town of Jedwabne forced their Jewish neighbors into a barn and set it on fire.

More than 80 years later, governments peddling hatred have once again sewn divisions all over the globe. It’s something Chulpan Khamatova, who stars as Rachelka, knows well.

The Russian actress backed Russian President Vladimir Putin in the 2012 election (to protect her charity for children with cancer, she said). But in 2022, she went against the head of state by publicly opposing his invasion of Ukraine; protesting the war is a crime punishable by prison time in Russia.

While on break between performances of The Master and Margarita, Khamatova and her children fled to Riga, Latvia, where she had to start over in exile. The decorated film and stage actress, who Our Class director Igor Golyak called the “Meryl Streep of Russia,” joined a collective effort to support Ukrainian refugees while rebuilding her career in a new language.

Now in San Francisco, Khamatova takes on her first English-language theatrical role in a timely production of Our Class, which has her thinking about the importance of art amid devastating global events.

This interview was translated from Russian and edited for length and clarity.

Nastia Voynovskaya: What drew you to the story in Our Class?

Chulpan Khamatova: I saw the show in New York, and I really liked the theme of how quickly people who are in some kind of community, because of outside forces, lose their humanity. This is a true story that happened in this town, when you have your own neighbors [turn on you]. It seems like it was a long time ago, and it will never happen again. But, now, look. We’ve somehow ended up in this trap again.

Does it remind you of the political climate in Russia?

Not only in Russia. I think there is a danger to any society. How should we behave to prevent it? I have no answers. It seems to me that culture and education — nobody has tried it yet, not a single country has made its main focus on education and culture. So, it is impossible to prove my theory.

Our Class points to how even ordinary people are capable of violence. What does that tell you about human nature?

That we all have darkness and light, and it’s up to each one of us to balance them. It’s complicated, especially when you choose the light and you’re left completely alone for some time.

I really love my character in Our Class, Rachelka. I feel sorry for her. Not only because she is Jewish or lost her family, but also because she has lost her soul. I don’t judge her in any way. I can’t imagine myself going through such trials.

The situation broke her. She did not burn in the shed, but she died on the inside. She died as a person who had hope and faith that good and justice will somehow prevail. She swam with the current and betrayed the people she loved. I appreciate how the play shows that no one is absolutely bad or absolutely good.

It was interesting for me to act in an English-language play. I wanted to immerse myself in a new world, a new mentality, and it turned out to be very close to home, which made me very happy. I was a little afraid that with my Russian training, I may seem too arrogant, too persistent. It turned out not to be the case.

The theater company presenting Our Class, Arlekin, is made up of people from the former Soviet Union. Director Igor Golyak has roots in Ukraine. What kinds of conversations are you having with the other ensemble members when you’re not on stage?

I share a dressing room with two wonderful American actresses, Deborah Martin and Gigi Watson. We discuss everything — the situation in America, the situation in Russia, the war there and the war here. Unfortunately there are many unhappy topics to discuss — the rising levels of antisemitism.

I do not believe in dividing people by nationalities at all. I look at the individual person. In all nationalities there are amazing people, and also everywhere there are scum. I think this construction was unnecessary when civilization was formed. Of course, I respect and believe in certain cultural traditions, but I don’t think it’s possible to divide people by nationalities. I’m absolutely against it. That’s how the Holocaust started.

You’re Tatar and you grew up in the city of Kazan. Is there anything you bring from your life experience that helps you understand the story of Our Class on a deeper level?

Yes, of course. The dominant ethnicity and language in the Soviet Union was Russian. Up until a certain age, I could not say my name — I was too shy. It was easier for me to introduce myself as Olya, Masha, Anya or some sort of typical Russian name. These experiences shape your personality, and they become like layers of bad skin that you have to shed as you get older.

I very much hope that the audience thinks about how the themes in the play relate to their own lives, not just the lives of some long-gone historical characters. There are just so many nuances and so many different interesting stories, both in our protagonists’ youth and old age.

I hope everyone in the audience imagines themselves facing these kinds of choices — a brave choice or a cowardly choice, to stay with yourself or to lose yourself. To go with the majority or to go against the current.

Tell me about your life in Latvia. How has it been for you having to start your career practically from the beginning?

It was not easy, but we survived. I moved with three children. I had no idea what to do next, how to live and how to feed them. I can’t say that the European world supported me in this decision, because all the laws and all the rules were aimed at making life outside Russia as difficult as possible for people who were against the war and left. I still have no answer why it is so, why it was necessary to turn off our credit cards, why it was necessary to create a situation where I couldn’t access my savings [because of sanctions]. There were a lot of such restrictions.

In my life, I have wealth in the form of friends who helped me survive from the very beginning. I started to work, to learn Latvian, and to play in the theater in Riga. I also try to perform in Russian, because I see how much people need it who are scattered all over the world, who left like me.

Throughout your career you’ve been involved in philanthropy. Can you share more about that?

In Russia we have a foundation that’s still around even though I’ve left, that helps children with cancer.

At the beginning of the war, helping Ukrainian refugees helped me. If you feel bad, start helping others. That was my therapy. In Latvia this organization emerged, it was founded by two wonderful women who are now my best friends. It somehow made it easier for my soul to be useful to people who lost everything because of my motherland. For the first two years we did a lot of fundraisers. I think it can’t be any other way.

My friend, the Russian dramaturg Ivan Vyrypaev, organized a special space in Poland, Teal House. Ukrainian artists who became refugees, and Russians and Belarusians who left because they opposed the war, lived in his house, in his apartment. It’s perhaps the only place in Europe that’s like that.

Many great Russian artists and musicians also fled since the beginning of the war. How does this fear of political persecution affect creativity and culture in Russia?

It influences it 100%. Artists cannot be not free.

It’s clear that there is not a single super free society, and in America there are also a huge number of restrictions on what you can’t do and so on. But in Russia it’s completely criminalized. That turns not only into censorship, but also self-censorship.

But not everyone can leave. Not everyone speaks other languages, and some have sick parents, some just have fear.

In these difficult times, how do you see the role of an artist? Do you believe that theater and creativity can be a force for good?

Yes I believe it, even though everyone says that no amount of culture or beauty will save the world. But going back to the beginning, I don’t think anyone has ever tried it. There has never been a single state on this earth that has placed its biggest bet on humanism, culture, education and empathy.

Seeing people’s strength in navigating difficult situations — be it in books, performances, films, music, it doesn’t matter — slowly forms you as a person.

Since everything went down the toilet, and took a completely different turn, it’s strange to talk about it. But I believe. Theater, music, cinema, books have made a huge impression on me. I can make better decisions after watching a performance, for example. I can change my life dramatically. I can realize, OK, I’m living wrong, I need to change something. So I think it’s still possible for others.

‘Our Class’ runs March 27–April 5 at Z Space (450 Florida St., San Francisco). Tickets and more information here.