Doppelgänger syndrome

akov Petrovich Golyadkin, after a dubious awakening—unsure whether he was still dreaming – finds himself in a rented carriage, caught by the magnetic gaze of his superior. He rejects that gaze. “I have nothing to do with it,” he keeps mumbling with difficulty, “it’s not me, that’s all!” Shortly after, he will meet his double for the first time. This is the beginning of The Double by Fyodor Dostoevsky, one of the sources of inspiration for The (Un)double, a production by The Useless Room, written and directed by Anthony Nikolchev.
What we’ll see at the Biennale Teatro is a world premiere, but Anthony is no stranger to us. We first noticed him in 2017 with Past Hope Now, his musical short film about a couple struggling to survive in the desert. We also appreciated him as an actor in Adam, Pietro Pinto’s 2020 film, where – set in a future where immortality is possible – the protagonist chooses a mortal life in order to affirm his humanity.
The work of this Californian artist is far from simple, but it stems from the school of Grotowski. He holds multiple degrees in theatre, biology, and philosophy. His works blend comedy, tragedy, irony, and above all a call to reflect on pressing issues – on the thresholds between genres, between collective and individual interests. The (Un)double is, at the same time, a kind of “Socratic dialogue, psychiatric evaluation, dance movement, and literary adaptation” about the human pathology of creating a double, of imagining oneself different from who one really is.

The piece also draws on other, non-literary sources – much more dramatic and real – centred around the tragic and criminal figure of Radovan Karadzic, President of the Republika Srpska during the brutal conflict in the former Yugoslavia. Karadzic, who managed to evade capture for years, reinvented himself under the name Dragan Dabic, gaining a reputation as a teacher and practitioner of alternative medicine. The work also references, tragically, the influence Karadzic had on figures like white supremacist Brenton Tarrant, who filmed himself singing Remove Kebab – a Serbian nationalist song praising Karadzic – before carrying out the Christchurch mosque massacre in New Zealand.
Portraying such themes is a difficult task. One possible response lies in human connection – with others, with a shared sense of purpose and responsibility. It is about working together, engaging deeply with one’s peers, and activating one’s own body to the point of feeling it fully – and this is precisely the narrative thread of The (Un)double. We are in a white office room, surrounded by menacing televisions flashing relentlessly on the walls. A narrator, sometimes a spectator, and two bodies meet, clash, and confront each other. The gaze is ever dominant; a book in hand confirms the literary impulse at the core of the work.

Featured image: The (Un)double by Anthony Nikolchev – Photo Brian Hashimoto