Two Garages

Sincerely funny story about being a man. Four guys from two post-soviet garages are sharing their deepest thoughts, life’s philosophy, pursuit of happiness and wish to love and to be loved.

During the performance you could find out quite many answers to important questions. Like how to make something useful from old plastic bottles? How to quit smoking? Who thinks faster – Estonian or Latvian? How to win a woman’s heart if you have just a piece of paper?  What is the philosophy of empty toothpaste tube?

NB! Language is not a problem, performances are understandable for non-Estonian speakers also! 

Period between regaining independence in 1991 and joining the European Union is remembered in the Baltic countries as “the wild ‘90’s” – the time of turbulent political and social transformation. Polish, Estonian, Lithuanian and Latvian reality was changing at that time with an insane speed, fueled by a conflict between the supporters of change and the protectors of the status quo. But what about people, who never took either side, and found themselves marginalized? Elmārs Seņkovs, a recognized Latvian director, focuses on a strange garage space, a place that was a shelter both for the homo soveticus and for the new citizen of the democratic republic. The action of “Two Garages” takes place simultaneously in Estonia and Latvia and presents a story of young men who reach adulthood just as their countries win their independence. What if both the old and the new world seem foreign to you? How to reconcile opposite social expectations, life goals and conspiracies? What if the inherited father’s garage seems to be the only safe haven?

Director Elmars Senkovs says:

My father had a garage.

My father repaired washing machines.

My father fought with the racketeers.

My father drank.

My father sang loudly. When he was drinking. Sometimes even when he wasn’t drinking.

When I found a condom in my father’s pocket and asked what it was, he was silent for a long time and then said it was headache medicine.

My father taught me how to punch someone in the face when abused.

My father didn’t play with me when I wanted to, but he took me to the circus. He liked clowns. My father gave me money when I needed it. That is, if he had anything to give.

My father once travelled to Estonia and brought me a refrigerator magnet. I still have this magnet.

My father’s garage was full of plastic bottles, and I have no idea why he collected them.

My father used to tickle me. That’s how he expressed love. Then he stopped tickling, and began showing tricks with packs of cigarettes instead.

My father disappeared… and then came back when no one was no longer waiting for him.

My father broke up with my mother.

My father also collected beer cans… I don’t know why.

My father always smoked, even at home. The smell of cigarettes still reminds me of my childhood.

My father didn’t teach me to drive because he didn’t have a license. And maybe it was good thing, because he really drank a lot.

I don’t know what he thought about. I don’t know what he dreamed of.

I used to be ashamed of him. Now, I’m saying I no longer care, but I probably still do.

My father is not someone you would direct a play about.  He is not a hero, although he fought. With himself. With time. All the time.

Me?

I too, have a garage. It’s called the theatre.