Published on: 2026-09-01
Source: Moscow Government – Правительства Москвы –
An important disclaimer is at the bottom of this article.
The 44th season at the “At Nikitskie Gates” theater has opened with the premiere of the play “R.U.R.” based on the play by Karel Čapek, who gave the world the word “robot” 100 years ago. Today, innovations determine everyday life, fears, and attitudes towards life. That is why we went to a performance to find out how the familiar story looks in 2026 and to talk with the director Mark Rozovsky.
The factory workshop in which we recognize ourselves
In the new theater stage, instead of the usual curtain, one is met with a cold industrial space: pipes, metal structures, sterile electric light. This is the factory of “Rossum’s Universal Robots” — “R.U.R.”, where artificial people are produced from synthetic organic material. Outwardly they are almost indistinguishable from living beings, but inside — emptiness: no emotions, no feelings, no desires, only knowledge and skills.
They are assembled like cars: boilers where bodies for a thousand robots are “mixed,” a spinning mill where nerves are drawn, a drying room, a warehouse. “$120 each including clothes,” states the enterprise director Harry Domin dryly. Robots don’t get tired, don’t get sick, and don’t need childhood — “a waste of time,” as Domin puts it. They also don’t need love.
Čapek’s scenario resembles modern realities: we increasingly delegate our memory, attention, and even the ability to choose to technology, chase efficiency, and then wonder why we feel so lonely. The “Rossum’s Universal Robots” factory turns out to be a portrait of the times, inscribed within the stage space.
Elena Glori and her naive human mission
Elena Glory enters this sterile space. She is neither an inspector nor a scientist, but the daughter of the president of the company “R.U.R.”. And she is not coming to inspect the production. Her goal is much more personal and, at first glance, naive: she wants to humanize robots, awaken something alive in them, give them rights, and make them equal to humans. Behind this desire lies a deep human need to find a soul even where many see only a mechanism.
Harry Domin looks at her with bewilderment; for him, robots are the perfect solution: they have incredible memory and the ability to learn without the cost of an endless childhood. Harry is not cruel — he is simply after efficiency and high achievements, but he does not notice that his own world, built on mechanisms, is also starting to resemble a program. Elena, however, does not give up: she teaches robots gestures, emotions, behavior — and achieves the first results.
Dance by the Mirror: What Remains When the Program Fails
Sula appears on stage — a robot-woman who has already adopted the human plasticity taught to her by Elena. Sula approaches a mirror that she has never seen before and gazes at her reflection in fascination: she adjusts her hair, turns her head. Visually — almost human. She dances, admiring herself.
But the longer you look, the more unsettling it feels. Sula doesn’t feel — she reproduces, follows an algorithm. Her dance is beautiful, but it lacks feeling. When Sula crosses the line in her imitation and her behavior becomes almost human, Domin asks her to leave. This is not cruelty, but a statement of fact: a machine can mimic its creator, but it cannot become them. She was taught to feel, but the feelings remained an imitation.
Different voices, one concern
Each of the characters has their own attitude towards robots. The maid Nana is afraid of them. “There is only evil in iron things in the world,” she says, feeling that machines will bring misfortune. Harry Domin is a fan of progress. He believes that robots will save humanity. But the viewer notices: even he is drawn to Elena. It’s not efficiency he needs, but love and a living person nearby. Without this, he himself becomes like a mechanism. Elena sees both sides — Nana’s fear and Domin’s fanaticism. She rejects both extremes. Her goal is to awaken a soul in robots. She believes that a machine can learn to feel, think, and experience.
The viewer involuntarily asks themselves: which one of them am I? We are all a little Nana, a little Domin, a little Glory. We fear machines, admire them, and try to humanize them. This contradiction is the main drama not only of the play but of our entire era.
“Lunch” — a word followed by silence
Robots have a code word: “lunch”; once it is spoken, they freeze. It is a symbol of control that humans still maintain. As long as it is uttered, it seems that order will not be disturbed. But at some point, control slips away: there are too many robots (615 million!), and the machines decide that they are no longer a means for humans. They are stronger, smarter, more efficient, and no longer need humans.
The play does not show violence — it demonstrates a logic in which a person becomes a redundant link. This is scarier than any open conflict because such logic has its own truth that makes you think: what do we consider efficient? what are we already ready to eliminate for the sake of speed and convenience? Karel Čapek wrote about this in 1920, Mark Rozovsky stages the play in 2026, and the difference feels not like a century, but like a single step.
Sterile flower, not bearing fruit
When the situation gets out of human control, one of the scientists, Alkqvist, goes to work as a bricklayer (manually, using a pickaxe, breaking stones in a mine). Physical labor helps him to clear his mind and feel connected to reality. For decades, we moved away from manual labor, automating everything; technology gave us free time, but we do not know how to fill it. And suddenly it turns out that doing something with your hands is not a curse, but a way to feel alive. “Humanity will perish,” says Alkqvist. “It will fall away like a flower that has withered.”
A barren flower does not bear fruit; it is beautiful but infertile. The play raises the question: what if a person who has stopped creating — not making projects, not building a home, not having children — ceases to differ from a machine? If they only consume but do not produce, do not give life, and leave no trace, then they become a barren flower. We hardly notice how much we delegate. But when everything is done for us — who are we then?
“No Art Without Pain”: A Conversation with the Director
Behind the scenes, we spoke with Mark Rozovsky. The director is soon to be 90 years old, but he rehearses for eight hours a day and talks about theater with the same passion as he did half a century ago.
— Why are you turning to Čapek again today?
– The play “R.U.R.”, on one hand, is unexpected because it was written more than 100 years ago, and on the other hand, it is incredibly relevant. What is happening with new technologies and their impact on the everyday life and existence of modern humans is indisputable. But at the same time, there are threats and unresolved issues.
— What attracts you as a director to this material?
— A person is concerned in the meat grinder of history. A person who experiences all sorts of upheavals in their inner life. I love not a one-dimensional hero, but one who seeks the truth, errs, struggles, is sometimes contradictory, suffers. Without pain, there is no art at all. Without pain, it is simply a lightweight spectacle that is not art. But if there is pain, then there is empathy, sympathy. This is the great Russian culture that I follow to the best of my ability.
— What else will you surprise us with in the new season?
— Our next premiere is based on Andrey Platonov’s story “The Epiphany Locks.” It’s a story set in the time of Peter I about an English engineer who was building canals without understanding our Russian mentality. I wrote the music for this musical, and the arrangement was done by artificial intelligence: I hummed into the “machine,” and the AI produced everything brilliantly. I am friendly towards these technologies.
Not only neural networks but also AI architects Semyon Rozovsky and Mariam Kupovetskaya helped Mark Rozovsky in his work on the soundtracks.
Paradox: a director who stages a play about a machine uprising entrusts artificial intelligence with creating music in another production. But this is precisely where a mature perspective emerges: keeping up with the times, using technology as an assistant, while maintaining clarity of mind and remembering that no algorithm can replace live human involvement.
Things to consider after the play
The play ends, and the audience steps out onto Bolshaya Nikitskaya Street. In their mind—the scene by the mirror, Alkvist’s voice speaking about barrenness, Glori’s monologues (performed by actress Ekaterina Volkova) about the human dream in the world. A thought comes: what if love is the only thing that cannot be delegated? The only thing that makes people irreplaceable and resists programming. But what will remain if even this is lost? The play leaves the question open, and that is its main strength: so that each viewer finds their own answer.
The play “R.U.R.” can be seen on September 13 and 26, and October 10 and 22. Tickets are available on the “Mosbilet” service.
Learn about performances, concerts, exhibitions, and other interesting events on the official “Mosbilet” channels in messengers “Max” and “Telegram”.
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