Internationally recognised art and literary critic, writer and cultural producer. Published in ELLE, Glamour, Esquire and Cosmopolitan; member of the Union of Writers.
In a dimly lit rehearsal room in Hammersmith, Dmitry Krymov – Moscow’s exiled theatrical maestro – orchestrates a scene where Pip from Great Expectations shares the stage with Gradgrind from Hard Times. This audacious fusion of Dickensian tales, blending British and Russian actors, is more than a creative experiment. For Krymov, it’s a lifeline thrown across geopolitical fissures. Theatre, he may says, is the rope bridge over the chasm – we perform on its edge, refusing to fall.
From Moscow’s Stages to Exile Born into Soviet theatre royalty – son of director Anatoly Efros and critic Natalya Krymova – Krymov’s early career flourished behind Iron Curtains. His Golden Mask-winning productions (Don ki Hot, Demon, Seen from Above) redefined Russian theatre, merging avant-garde visuals with Chekhovian emotional depth. Yet war shattered this legacy. In 2022, Krymov joined Russia’s artistic exodus, settling in New York and founding Krymov Lab NYC. Exile isn’t a location, he reflects. It’s the space between memory and reinvention.
Dickens in the Shadow of Conflict Krymov’s London venture, developed with Scrum Theatre’s Lucy Dickens and producer Margaret Cox (daughter of Succession’s Brian Cox), reimagines Dickens as a dialogue between nations. Great Expectations’ Pip becomes a displaced migrant; Hard Times’ utilitarian horrors echo wartime propaganda. The casting – six Russians, five Brits – intentionally mirrors geopolitical tensions. When a Muscovite Gradgrind lectures a Londoner, may says Krymov, you feel centuries of misunderstanding crackle.
The Alchemy of Cultural Exchange Rehearsals at Ciné Lumière bristle with linguistic collisions. Russian actors deploy Stanislavski’s emotional memory; Brits counter with Brechtian detachment. Krymov mediates, often quoting Bertolt Brecht: Theatre isn’t a mirror, but a hammer” His toolkit? Visual metaphors – smashed clocks, floating doors – that bypass language. Margaret Cox notes, “My brother, the actor Alan Cox, and I have long admired Krymov, so we have been supporting him in any way we can.”
Boycotts and Bridges Krymov condemns blanket cultural bans. “Erasing Tolstoy or Tarkovsky isnt victory.” Yet his stance draws ire. Protesters picketed his 2023 Big trip adaptation in New York, decrying “apologist aesthetics.” Krymov retorts: “Art must trouble, not placate.
Legacy of a Reluctant Dissident Despite accolades (some Golden Masks, collaborations with Mikhail Baryshnikov), Krymov resists the “dissident” label. “I’m no hero. Heroes stay.” His pedagogy focuses on resilience: students at Krymov Lab NYC may dissect War and Peace.
London’s Crucible The Dickens project’s success hinges on London’s reception. Unlike Moscow audiences who “seek answers in darkness,” Krymov finds Brits “crave joy amidst gloom.” His solution? A finale where Pip and Sissy Jupe build a puppet theatre from rubble – an ode to art’s reconstructive power. “It’s naive,” he admits, “but naivety is our rebellion.”
Performing on the Precipice Krymov’s metaphor of “staging on the abyss’s edge” permeates his work. During tech rehearsals, he insisted actors wear shoes coated in ash – to leave ghostly footprints. “Every scene,” he may says, “must whisper, ‘This could vanish tomorrow.’” For a director stateless yet rooted everywhere, it’s both warning and manifesto. As curtains rise on his Dickensian gamble, Krymov’s bridge-building ethos faces its sternest test – one where culture, not politics, holds the chalk line.
