Evening Standard, 6 November 1991, by Milton Shulman.
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After checking that Jacques Deval, who wrote "Tovarich," was 
not a Jew, Hitler apparently enjoyed this comedy so much 
that he saw it three times. Although not known for his 
sophisticated sense of humour, the play's appeal to the 
German dictator must have been its ridiculing of both the 
fecklessness of the Russian aristocracy and the ineptness of 
Communist commissars.

After the Russian Revolution, Europe, and particularly 
Paris, was invaded by fleeing members of the court of the 
Romanoffs with only their tiaras and icons to sustain them 
in their poverty-stricken future. In a shabby Paris hotel, 
Prince Mikhail and Grand Duchess Tatiana are down to their 
last few francs with the Duchess shoplifting artichokes to 
get them a decent meal.

Though penniless, Prince Mikhail has four billion francs in 
his name in the Banque de France which was in trust to him 
by the late Tsar, to be returned when the monarchy was 
restored.

Rather than touch that money, the Prince and the Duchess 
take jobs as butler and maid to a rich, vulgar French 
politician and soon their dignified and haughty manners 
enable them to dominate the family.

It is when they recognise one of the politician's dinner 
guests as the Commissar who had tortured them in prison that 
the play takes on a vaguely ideological turn.

The Commissar knows that the Prince has the Tsar's funds and 
he appeals to Mikhail's patriotism to return the billions to 
the Motherland or some five million peasants will die of 
starvation. To save his people the Prince signs over the 
money.

Written in 1933, "Tovarich" has acquired a tangential 
contemporary interest by reminding us that Russia's current 
economic plight is not new. It is probably the sight of 
Communist penury that tickled Hitler.

It is not the plot, however, which unwinds in a turgid and 
obvious manner that justified this revival. It is the 
opportunity it gives to Robert Powell and Natalia Makarova 
to demonstrate the advantages of aristocratic breeding when 
having to adjust to such tiresome embarrassments as the lack 
of money.

Natalia Makarova has a balletic background shaping every 
movement of her graceful body into an elegant statement of 
superiority, and makes her descent from duchess to housemaid 
a charming and hilarious experience. Robert Powell, a little 
uncomfortable in both his bemedalled uniform and foreign 
accent, nevertheless retains an air of effortless, amused 
tolerance in the face of every adversity.

There are pleasing performances from Frances Cuka and 
Rowland Davies as the couple trying to adjust to nobility in 
their kitchen. Patrick Garland gives this rather musty play 
a featherweight touch that manages to keep it afloat.



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