"Spies, chases, state secrets — it's just interesting"
On November 1, the television premiere of the political detective story "Dear Willy" will take place on the REN TV channel. This is the story of how, almost half a century ago, it was possible to prevent the largest crisis in relations between the USSR and the United States, which could lead to global tragic consequences. One of the key roles, journalist Valery Pletnev, was played by Alexey Rozin. Valery Lednev, a political commentator for Izvestia, became the prototype of the hero. Rozin spoke in an exclusive interview with Izvestia about how the plot of the series resonates with today, why Andrey Zvyagintsev considers filming a professional success and what to do with hundreds of graduates of acting faculties.
"This is a normal human reaction — not with burning eyes to a feat, but to be afraid"
— In the series "Dear Willy" you play the journalist Pletnev, who has a real prototype — Valery Lednev. How did you prepare for the role? Have you talked to his children or colleagues?
— No, I didn't have a chance to communicate with children and colleagues. But I read about him and talked a lot with the script writer and one of the general producers of the project, Igor Prokopenko (presenter of the REN TV channel. — Izvestia), who was personally acquainted with all the actors in history, with the exception of Soviet Secretary General Leonid Brezhnev and German Chancellor Willy Brandt.
Valery Lednev was a very interesting man. He worked as a political columnist for the Izvestia newspaper when it was headed by Alexey Adjubey. In reality, unlike in the film, he was, of course, also a KGB officer. However, in the film, Vyacheslav Vardanov (the prototype is Soviet counterintelligence officer Vyacheslav Kevorkov) draws him into all his adventures. — Izvestia), played by Sergei Marin, and Pletnev participates in the operation as a journalist who came to the conference. My hero seems to be gentle, non-confrontational, appreciative of comfort, but at the same time he willingly climbs into all adventures.
A shot from the TV series "Dear Willie"
— Don't they have a complicated personal history?
— Yes, Pletnev went through a concentration camp, and Vardanov, as part of our troops, liberated him. They've been friends ever since. It reminded me of the wonderful Soviet film The Dead Season, about how intelligence officer Konstantin Ladeynikov, played by Donatas Banionis, catches the Nazi criminal Dr. Hass. In the story, he experimented on concentration camp prisoners, and after the war he got a job at a pharmaceutical corporation. No one knows his face, and those who could identify him are already dead. The only survivor is a children's theater actor, played by Rolan Bykov.
There is a brilliant scene: a KGB officer has arrived to recruit the hero Bykov, he is walking in the portrait foyer while a children's play is on stage. The intermission. They pull the actor out and tell him that he needs to go. But he doesn't believe in anything — I've already served my time, suffered, and I can't stand such trials a second time!
This is a normal human reaction — not with burning eyes to a feat, but to be afraid. Nevertheless, he is, of course, going with Banionis to catch this scoundrel. Bykov's character reminded me a lot of my character in Dear Willy. He also went through the camp and doesn't want to face anything like this anymore, but he has a serious inner core. He cannot allow such a terrible evil to happen again, so, overcoming his fears, he does what he has to.
A shot from the TV series "Dear Willie"
— The cinema keeps coming back to stories about spies and intelligence agents. Why don't they lose their relevance?
— First of all, it's just interesting: covert operations, chases, political detective, spies and state secrets. And secondly, look at the world we live in! Everyone is threatening each other with missiles. And this film is just about how two Soviet intelligence officers prevented a nuclear catastrophe. Unfortunately, the plot clearly echoes the present day.
"The nineties are also a zone of maximum turbulence"
— You have a very diverse filmography. It has both positive and negative characters. In the latest film adaptation of The Master and Margarita, you played Azazello, a murderer with principles. Why do viewers like such characters?
— I don't know, I can only assume that when people at all times could not find justice from rulers, barons, princes, dukes, they relied on outlaw heroes. The same Robin Hood. He is not afraid to break the rules, but he is fair and able to protect the common man.
— And what can explain the popularity of films about the 1990s?
— It's just time. Fashion is cyclical. Those who were children at the time have grown up, some have become cinematographers, fashion designers, and bring their childhood memories to creativity. Over time, the bad is forgotten, the good becomes brighter, and you only remember cartoons, candies, rides, video games — you romanticize, in a word, the era.
A shot from the TV series "Dear Willie"
— How do you remember that time?
"I was a teenager. On the one hand, it was great. The Soviet Union ended with its limitations, and a completely new era began. First, perestroika — I was just starting first grade. With it came private business, consumer goods that we had never seen before. There was a shortage of almost everything, but here there were bright candies, chewing gum, lemonades, jeans, music on records and cassettes. Incredible freedom and a new acquaintance with the material world.
But the nineties are also a zone of maximum turbulence. Moral guidelines were collapsing, and values were being reversed, and the ground was literally disappearing from under the feet of adults. There was hunger, food stamps, and money that looked more like candy wrappers. I remember the poverty, greyness and filth that prevailed. It's like an endless deep autumn or early spring: there's muck underfoot, and people are selling whatever they can on crates. The country has become a continuous flea market. The man found himself in the center of this vortex — with bright storefronts and the inability to possess what is behind them. It was an important era: on the one hand, banditry, on the other — a lot of beautiful, new things. There was some kind of universal hope that now all the worst was over and there was only the sky, only the wind, only joy ahead.
A shot from the TV series "The Paratrooper"
— Which directors have become your professional success?
— Certainly, with Andrey Zvyagintsev. This is a very important stage in my life. I am incredibly grateful to him for entrusting me with three roles. It was really interesting and challenging — a real professional challenge.
But it all started with Oleg Strom, who gave me my first full-fledged role in the TV series "Paratrooper Dad." I played the driver, General Merkulov, played by Mikhail Zhigalov. Thanks to this job, by the way, I learned how to drive a car and got my license. Strom said, "You're going to play the driver. Of course, I nodded, and I ran to study. A week later, I was already driving around the set.
"The old masters used to say: an actor gains skill and muscle mass in the theater, and spends it in the cinema."
— Now you have 10 projects a year, and about 30 years ago you were expelled from the College of Culture. It's true?
— Yes, they were expelled for absenteeism and systematic violation of discipline. And they did the right thing, in general. Then, of course, I thought otherwise. (Laughs.) I've always been drawn to acting, but for some reason I joined the department of directing mass celebrations. I studied my first year somehow, and at the beginning of the second year I discovered the Kvadrat amateur theater on Kutuzovsky Prospekt, near Victory Park. I worked there for almost two years.
— Did you initially want to enroll in the Moscow Art Theater Studio School, or did it just happen?
— Shortly before I was expelled from Kulka, as the college of culture is called, I nevertheless decided to continue studying and enter the theater. I had a wonderful teacher, Elena Anatolyevna Bagrova, who taught me stage speech — thank you very much. She set me on the right path and sent me to enroll.
That's how I found out that there are other educational institutions. And when I got to the Studio School, I realized that I wanted to study here. I didn't enroll the first time — I had to work, go to preparatory courses, and a year later I was enrolled in a course with Dmitry Brusnikin and Roman Kozak, which I am incredibly happy about and which I consider one of my main successes in life.
— Where does an actor forge himself anyway — in the theater or on the set?
— There are no absolute truths. There are excellent actors who have not worked in the theater for a single day, and vice versa — those who have been on stage all their lives, but do not shine in the cinema. The theater gives you time for searching, trial, and error. The play can be rehearsed for years, and even when it is released, there is an opportunity to finish, update, and change something all the time.
Actor Alexey Rozin as Petruchio in the play "The Taming of the Shrew" directed by Andrei Konchalovsky at the theater. Moscow City Council
And cinema is an expensive, technologically complex and time—consuming process. Every minute is expensive there, so there's no time to search during filming, you have to do it all yourself, at home. On the set, the actor is required to produce the result. The old masters used to say that an actor gains skill and muscle mass in the theater, and spends it in the cinema.
— But theater universities hardly pay attention to this side of the profession. You teach at the Moscow Art Theater Studio School. How do you solve this paradox?
— We are slowly trying to change the system. In our workshop (Marina Brusnikina and Sergey Shchedrin), we come up with laboratories so that graduates do not feel uncomfortable on the set.
For example, during the pandemic, when our first-year students were put on self-isolation, we decided to use this situation as an excuse for an experiment and, dividing the educational process into several different "classes", showed an online exam in six or eight directions. It lasted all day with interruptions. There were many interesting finds related to the fact that the guys had to shoot and mount the sketches themselves.
— You started assisting teachers immediately after graduation, and then you started teaching classes yourself. Was it your initiative?
"Mine, of course. After graduation, they took me to the theater, but I wasn't particularly busy. So I went back to the Studio School, sat down next to the teachers, with my masters, and began to delve into their method, help, and assist. I like this activity — it's somewhat similar to directing. After all, the acting profession implies that you need to study all your life. Pedagogy helps a lot in this sense.: You look at others and you understand a lot about yourself. You see the mistakes you made when you were their age, and not only when you were their age.
"Getting a paper on education and being a professional are two different things"
— There are a lot more theater courses and workshops now. They produce hundreds of artists every year. What should I do with them then?
— It's completely unclear.
— Then why are there so many educational institutions?
— Everyone wants to be an artist.
- why?
— Probably for the same reason as 100 years ago and at all times. Everyone wants to have everything and at the same time it is advisable not to do anything for it. After all, it seems that the work of an actor is a light bread and a continuous carefree holiday.
In the 25 years that I have been in the profession, technology has come a long way. Now everyone can become a star, be an expert in any field. Who was the hero of the 1990s? Merchants, bandits, and currency prostitutes. Then in the noughties there was a factory of stars, and everyone turned into artists.
And today it's a blogger. A man who earns untold treasures and the love of the audience by shooting videos on camera. But one has only to take up any business or craft seriously, as soon as it turns out that there are difficulties and obstacles in everything, and only by overcoming them, a person acquires some value as a specialist, becomes a master.
Actor Alexey Rozin
— Doesn't that annoy you? You've been enrolled in college for the second time, you've been studying acting all your life, and here you just have a phone and millions of views.
— Yes, you're welcome! You just need to learn how to filter information.
— Doesn't this destroy the acting profession? After all, today many people act without academic education: Sasha Bortich, Aglaya Tarasova, Oksana Akinshina, Irina Starshenbaum, Gleb Kalyuzhny.
— Well, that's great.
— So an actor doesn't need an education?
— I think it's necessary. But this is not necessary. Getting a paper on education and being a professional are two different things. By the way, the same applies to success and popularity. The presence or absence of a diploma does not guarantee you anything.
But during his time at the institute, a person acquires something important (or so it is implied). The very word "education" indicates what should happen to a person there.
Alexey Rozin as Ivan during the press screening of the play "Married Life. Perestroika" directed by Andrei Konchalovsky at the Mossovet Theater
We see many examples where everything works out even without a diploma. There are a lot of people, for example from KVN, who create almost all entertainment content today. They didn't study to be actors, screenwriters, or producers, but we all watch them. And I'm watching it too. Education is necessary in order to gain some cultural baggage, at least to learn how to perceive and reproduce thoughts expressed in words longer than five letters and expanded sentences, to choose the right mental and intellectual optics, to learn how to adjust it. An actor is a philosophical profession, even a magical one.
— But also technical, too. Students are taught to work with speech, voice, and breathing.
— Of course! For example, a dancer's instrument is his body, a playwright's is his intellect, his psyche, and an actor's is his psychophysics. Our imagination creates certain images, but in order to convey them to the viewer, we need to be able to control our body, voice, and breathing.
So bodily coordination, emotional stability, along with analytical abilities and, in general, constant intellectual development, are things without which an actor would not be complete and competitive.
— Another problem is artificial intelligence. The first actress created by a neural network has already appeared in the USA. The actors are sounding the alarm. Do you see a threat?
— I'm generally afraid of robots. (Laughs.) Although, seriously, we can only hope that people will get enough of playing with new toys and everything will come to a balance. I believe that no hologram or artificial form can replace a live actor.
Another question is whether there will be a massive demand for the living. Maybe it will be like with tube amplifiers and vinyl turntables. At first, they announced to us that their time had passed, and digital sound had completely replaced this junk, and when everyone believed it, it turned out that lamp and vinyl had moved into the elite segment and were now many times more expensive.
A fragment of the graduation performance based on Homer's Iliad by students of Marina Brusnikina and Sergei Shchedrin's workshop at the Moscow Art Theater Studio School
As long as humans exist as a species, they will always be drawn to live communication. We've all already moved to the other side of the display, and the process is only gaining momentum. People now see much less of each other offline, and over time, live communication will only become more valuable.
We see how popular stand-up shows are — when stories are told nose to nose in small bars and restaurants. Western actors are already coming up with trade union restrictions — and they are doing the right thing. It needs to be regulated, but it's pointless to resist progress.
Переведено сервисом «Яндекс Переводчик»
