Back in the USSR

Snarling guard dogs, interrogations, torture, well not quite torture – but it’s all to be had at Lithuania’s most bizarre tourist attraction, finds Marie Cleland.

The vodka is sharp as it hits the back of my throat. Like the shock of a few minutes ago when the KGB interrogator started spitting abuse in my face, his eyebrows convulsing beneath wispy grey hair as he derided me for not being a good Soviet citizen. In the corridor just beyond the room I can hear claws scraping on concrete. A guard dog is trying to launch itself at the door. I grip the empty glass as the spirit goes to my head. I’ve been running on adrenalin for the past two hours and I am hoping that this strange, tense role-playing is coming to an end.

Time has ticked by slowly in this dank hell of a bunker. Though buried underground in dense forest just outside the Lithuanian capital of Vilnius, it might as well be in Siberia. I’m feeling claustrophobic and tired from running round in circles through a maze of corridors with my fellow “captives”, screamed at by Soviet guards. If this were real, and not a “survivalist drama” – that for reasons now beyond me I’ve agreed to take part in – no one would be able to hear me cry for help.

It’s surprising how completely I’ve bought into the situation, even though I know my captors are just acting and I’m having an easy time of it compared with the gruelling torture that was meted out to real victims of the Soviet regime. But taking it seriously is exactly what the organisers of 1984: In The Bunker want us to do. Eighteen years after Lithuania gained its independence from the USSR, this living history experience is a wake-up call for those still suffering from Soviet nostalgia, and a vivid illustration for those young enough, or far away enough, to have escaped life on the wrong side of the Iron Curtain.

Lithuanian TV producer Ruta Vanagaite is the mastermind behind 1984, which takes its name from George Orwell’s 1949 novel about life under a totalitarian regime – in which Big Brother is always watching and authorities torture people simply for saying, or even thinking, the wrong thing. The idea came to her after watching a British reality TV show recreating life in a 1950s boarding school – why not recreate a Soviet secret police prison and let people pay to be scared out of their wits? Finding an actual former KGB bunker on Vilnius’s doorstep made the idea a reality.

Although it was never used primarily as a prison – you can also pay a visit to the main KGB jail in central Vilnius – the bunker was the spot where in 1991, OMON special forces mustered before storming Vilnius’s central TV tower and killing 14 people. The operation was a result of Lithuania trying to declare independence from Russia.

The bunker was built in 1978 when Soviet leader Leonid Brezhnev, locked in an arms race with the US, ordered a network of underground shelters to be built to house Soviet-controlled TV and radio, so that in the event of nuclear fallout, Moscow would not be cut off from the provinces.

With its aura of conflict and oppressive underground atmosphere, the bunker is the perfect setting for the torture scenarios running through my head. Like 1984, think humiliation, suspicion and fear – all feature in the performance. As soon as I don the damp, heavy cotton jacket – apparently based on what gulag prisoners would have worn – I take on the mindset of a captive. I have some idea of what’s ahead and know that if I don’t take it seriously, I’ll get picked on. Orwell’s words become a mantra: “Not to let one’s feelings appear in one’s face was a habit that had acquired the status of an instinct.”

As this is the first anniversary of the show I am expecting it to be full on. Before the drama begins we are offered barley coffee, the main substitute during Soviet times when the real stuff was in deficit. It smells like dirty, wet socks heated up in a microwave. It tastes like the water that’s left over after boiling burnt rice, with sugar added for good measure.

But it doesn’t stop my stomach from twisting into knots when the performance gets underway. In no time our group of about 40 is led onto the parade ground and made to stand to attention while one of the interrogators yells us into submission. It’s intimidating because I know this guy is not an actor – he was hand-picked for his 20 years’ experience in the Lithuanian secret police. The dog trainer is also genuine. He’s a policeman who does this in his spare time, when he’s not overseeing homicide investigations, according to Vanagaite.

My mind is jolted back into concentration mode when I hear a booming voice coming from behind me. Into view comes the burly Captain. He’s the main man of the performance and I can instantly see why. He looks Russian for a start, and his voice positively thunders across the courtyard, bouncing off the pine trees and virtually slapping me in the face.

“There are no human rights in the Soviet Union,” he bellows. After a rendition of the Soviet anthem, we’re split into groups and led underground to the bunker. The musty air assaults my nostrils as we descend into darkness. It must have seemed hell for prisoners of the KGB.

In the following hours we are herded through the bunker and kept in constant motion. We are crowded into Lenin’s Room to watch a video of Brezhnev and his cronies on some PR walkabout. We get a singing lesson with some inspiring lyrics: “Long live the Communist party of the USSR! Let us fight for the biggest harvest ever!”

We have 45 seconds to assemble and put on a gas mask and the rubber hood wrenches my hair as I fit it over my head. We have a medical checkup and get a futile lesson in how the Soviet Union was able to claim that it had zero unemployment, as we are made to carry metal scrap from one table to another, and back again. The word is that in Soviet times, a man would be employed to dig a hole and a second man would be employed to fill it again – the Soviets couldn’t risk a population with enough spare time to think about dissension.

As the Captain puffs away on his cigarette and chides us for missing the odd sliver of junk, I realise I’m starting to care about clearing that table, and I notice other people are stepping back out of line to pick up a missed scrap. Are a couple of hours really all it takes for a totalitarian figure to beat a group of intelligent people into submission? To wind an invisible hand around someone’s mind and bend it to his will?

OK, that’s enough. I want out. I’m in the interrogation room and my concentration is spent. I’m leaning back on the wall and that’s when the interrogator gets me. He screams and rants in my face. But the yelling is only threatening for so long. Having been granted enrolment in the regime (“What is a journalist doing in the Soviet Union?” “Umm, I want to be a Soviet citizen?”) and knocked back my celebratory vodka, my mood starts to change. I’m laughing now, a slightly unhinged laugh, because I’m tired and I don’t want to buy into this any longer.

As we are released into the fresh air and patted on the back for being such good sports, as we sit around a banquet table and toast the end of the drama with more vodka, as the actors become people again and the interrogator and I have a laugh – “I hope I wasn’t too hard on you,” he intimates in broken English – I let the adrenalin wash away and look forward to a refreshing pint of Svyturys beer surrounded by the trappings of capitalist society. At least I can look forward to that. Many who entered the bunker a couple of decades ago never had that luxury.
For more details, visit www.sovietbunker.com

Vilnius: Capital of Culture
There’s more to Vilnius than Soviet tourism – this year the city has the enviable position of being one of two EU-designated Capitals of Culture. The programme kicked off with a light show and fireworks extravaganza on New Year’s Eve, and the upcoming calendar highlights both local and international talent. Here are just a few of the events worth checking out.

4–16 MAY
International Alternative Culture Festival “Ladyfest”
This feminist-focused festival includes art exhibitions, a “drag-king” performance workshop, rock concerts, speakers and a review of experimental film.
www.nkmi.lt

10–11 JULY
Creamfields
DJs like Fatboy Slim and Paul van Dyk are expected to headline this dance-fest, which is extending its Europe-wide tour to include Vilnius’s Vingis Park.
www.cream.co.uk

THROUGHOUT SEPTEMBER
Talking Doors
This audio art installation will see doors to some of the city’s architectural landmarks fitted with interactive devices for passersby to record their voices. They can then open and close the doors to initiate sound effects.

THROUGHOUT 2009
52 Weeks
Running in conjunction with the film department of New York’s Museum of Modern Art, this movie marathon celebrates the world’s 52 most famous films. Screenings will take place in cinemas and public places throughout the city, along with lectures by famous film critics.
www.culturelive.lt