John Fasile

And then the two machine men grab him, pull him up.

The free man has become part of the machine.

Another free guy, swinging his arms, clueless as to what's about to happen to him.

And again, the machine arms, the arms of these three mimes, wrap around him.

The allegory of a monstrous, unfeeling machine was unmistakable, obvious even.

If Gregory had wanted to test the limits of Soviet repression, he couldn't have made a better choice.

And on that Moscow soundstage, they had just started their performance, had barely gotten into it.

It turns out that someone high up had been watching playback in the control room.

And they were not happy.

How many people would have seen it?

Gregory was banned from TV, banned from performing and teaching mime.

He went back home to Leningrad, where, for the next few years, he struggled to make a living.

He says he was so poor at one point, he could only afford bread and tea.

Did you feel like you were drowning?

But why do you think that, you know, you were never thrown in the back of a van?

Gregory knew that if he ever wanted to make art again, he'd have to leave the Soviet Union.

But before he did, he decided to stage a break-in.

He asked four mimes, former students of his, to meet him at midnight wearing black.

Outside the Leningrad Palace of Culture, an industrial behemoth with soaring windows where he'd first seen Marcel Marceau and later performed himself.

It was a place he was no longer allowed to set foot in.