'It loses something in translation,' says Helya, a young Polish singer, frustrated that Victor, the Russian student she has just met at a Chopin concert, can't understand a word of her native language.
The same could be said of Leonid Zorin's play, which traces Helya and Victor's doomed love affair across several decades of painful farewells and reunions. Written in 1967, Zorin's two-hander was a huge hit across the former Soviet Union and beyond. It's a shame, therefore, that this English translation, by Franklin D Reeve, is so stilted and unconvincing.
Oleg Mirochnikov's production is handsomely staged, the bare brick and grimy windows of the Arcola's second studio space perfectly evoking post war Russia's atmosphere of lamplight and shadows (it's also authentically chilly: keep your coat on).
Emily Tucker, as Helya, also looks the part, with her silk tea dresses and red lipstick; and she successfully conveys her character's desperation at the bureaucratic barriers separating her from Victor. But too often her performance is all prancing coquettishness, while Oliver King, as Victor, is more foppish English gent than dashing Russian lover. Ultimately, their grand passion fails to ignite.