"As for the people of art, our task is to be with the country"
The theater is both a family and an army, says Konstantin Bogomolov. Appointed acting rector of the Moscow Art Theater Studio School after Igor Zolotovitsky's death, he has already held his first meetings with the staff, discussed development plans with teachers and staff, including work in the regions, and announced his intention to recruit his own acting course. In a lengthy interview with Izvestia, Bogomolov responded to criticism of his appointment, spoke about the problems of theater education and the relevance of the manifesto written five years ago. The director is sure: Russian culture will be fine, and the task of artists today is to help formulate values, inspire people, and be with the country.
"All this talk is turning the Studio School into a kind of closed sect"
— Konstantin Yuryevich, we are glad to welcome you to the Izvestia studio. Congratulations on your appointment. How did you react to this news?
— The emotions were very strong. But emotions are emotions, and in fact it is a huge responsibility. I can't say that I've never thought about pedagogy. I taught at GITIS in the course of Mark Anatolyevich Zakharov, worked with young artists and directors at the Chekhov Moscow Art Theater, as a director and assistant artistic director, and participated in a multi-year laboratory at the request of Oleg Pavlovich Tabakov. He wanted me to complete the course at some point. For the last two years, I have been conducting a master's degree in directing at GITIS.
But, of course, this is a new stage. On the one hand, I am glad and grateful for the trust. On the other hand, I understand perfectly well that I have no right to let you down. And not just the minister. I have no right to let down my teachers, my masters, the theater as a whole, the Russian theater. Because the Moscow Art Theater Studio School is one of the main forges of acting personnel not only in Russia, but also in the world. And its worldwide fame, of course, is connected with the names of Stanislavsky and Nemirovich-Danchenko, who founded it in 1943, during the war years.
— Have you already met with the teachers of the Studio School?
— Yes, of course. These meetings are already underway. I communicate with teachers, professors, and staff, share my vision, and listen to their thoughts, feelings, doubts, and advice. It's a living process. The work has already begun and, naturally, will only increase.
— How did the teaching staff receive you?
— I haven't met everyone yet. But, to be honest, I have never had any problems when I came to these or other institutions. And for all the meetings that have taken place, I have not felt a single drop of negativity. As a rule, difficulties arise not inside, but around — because of jealousy, ambitions, fears. Sometimes — out of sincere concern, which eventually passes. But on the contrary, I saw interest and hope that I would be able not only to preserve, but also to multiply the traditions of the great Russian acting school. To be honest, I don't feel any serious internal conflicts or tensions.
— Nevertheless, not everyone is happy with your appointment. They recalled resonant statements and outrageous acts, and there was even an appeal to the Minister of Culture. Does that bother you?
— I'm not a fan of the epistolary genre at all. Collective letters, especially anonymous ones, complaints, retellings — this is not my way of existence. I'm a man of action. Oleg Pavlovich Tabakov was very fond of repeating the phrase of Professor Serebryakov from Chekhov's "Uncle Vanya": "It is necessary, gentlemen, to do the job!"
Talking about "friends" and "strangers" seems naive to me, and sometimes just stupid. The entire Russian theater school grew out of Stanislavsky. My master Andrey Alexandrovich Goncharov, with whom I studied at GITIS, directly inherited the traditions of the Moscow Art Theater and brought us up in the method of Russian psychological theater.
Any director, any actor who works seriously today, exists in one way or another within this methodology, regardless of which school he graduated from. Therefore, it makes sense to think not about the origin, but about efficiency, about goals and objectives. About the problems that theater education in general and the Moscow Art Theater Studio School in particular face today. Yes, this is one of the pillars, but it also needs to be developed, updated, and sometimes painful decisions.
All this talk is an empty transfusion from empty to empty. They turn the Studio School into a kind of closed sect, where "strangers" are supposedly forbidden to enter. This is absurd. According to this logic, no theater would have the right to invite a new artistic director.
— And for you, the Moscow Art Theater is, in fact, a second home.
— It really is. I have given ten years of passionate, fruitful, and important work to this theater. My performances are still going on there, eight years after Oleg Pavlovich left, they collect halls and generate income. The audience goes to them and applauds happily. I am welcomed there as a loved one. And I truly love these people. I am sure that the cooperation between the Moscow Art Theater and the Studio School will continue and even strengthen. This is natural and necessary for the Russian theater as a whole.
"Graduates don't sing, dance, or speak French"
— You have repeatedly talked about the problems of acting education. Hundreds of actors graduate every year. What should I do with them?
— There are actually two parallel problems here. The first is a huge number of dubious courses, often paid, which are organized at non—core universities or even in a semi-legal regime. Sometimes they are created, let's be honest, solely for the sake of earning money. Young people are seduced by the dust of the wings, the promises of the stage, assured of their exclusivity, taught superficially, but at the same time inspire a sense of vocation. They are poorly educated, often untalented, and they should be doing other things, but they are seduced by this poison.
And this is a very strong poison. The feeling of belonging to the stage, the applause, the attention — we all know how Chekhov's Nina Zarechnaya story ends. In real life, this often leads to tragedies: people are thrown out of the profession, do not find themselves, although they could be realized in another field.
Such courses are a disaster, and something definitely needs to be done about it. At the same time, there are strong state universities in the country — in Moscow, St. Petersburg, Novosibirsk, Yekaterinburg, Saratov. I believe that the Moscow Art Theater Studio School should and will develop regional forms of work, branches, courses, and theater education in a broad sense.
The second problem is the quality of education in leading universities. I am an acting director and every year I watch graduation courses from all over the country. And many people dream of getting to Malaya Bronnaya. By the way, I have graduates of the last year of Evgeny Pisarev from the Moscow Art Theater Studio School. Among them, for example, Alyona Dolgolenko is a rising star of Russian cinema.
And, unfortunately, I see that the level of graduates is decreasing: speech, plasticity, word mastery, general humanitarian training. Young artists often have little knowledge of literature, art history, or the history of the country. They don't sing, they don't dance, they don't know basic professional techniques. They don't speak French, which is impossible when working with Russian literature. An artist of the old school could speak French and pronounce words beautifully. He heard the music of a foreign language. This is very important — the mimetic abilities of the actor, his ability to imitate, to be musical. And now artists are often dark, sorry for the jargon.
We lowered the bar on our own. We allowed them to go on stage unprepared. I myself have gone through a certain evolution — from radical experiments to detailed psychological theater. And today I am convinced that there is no serious theater without a psychological process. I used to think that stage speech was archaic. Today, I can honestly say that I regret it. On the contrary, attention to speech, to the word, and to breathing should be rigid and constant.
The day before, we met with Dmitry Petrovich Bak, our wonderful literary critic, who teaches at the Studio School and heads the Department of Art Studies. An amazing, erudite, intelligent man. We discussed for a long time that Russia is a literary—centric country. An artist cannot but master the word, understand Dostoevsky, Tolstoy, and Russian poetry. And the artist of the Moscow Art Theater Studio School should be a model. Because when he goes on stage, he educates the audience whether he wants to or not.
"We got too carried away with raising the teddy generation"
— So this is a problem not only for students, but also for teachers.
"We've become too kind and apologetic. They got too carried away with raising such a plush generation that is not ready for struggle, for difficulties, for understanding that the world is complicated. Today, many young artists have a cultural depth of about five years. They know perfectly well everything that is located horizontally thanks to the scrolling of the tapes. But not even in the context of Russian culture, let alone the world, at least 10-20 years deep, for God's sake, it's impossible.
They don't know the names. And most importantly, they don't understand how important it is. I have recruited one of the youngest troupes in Moscow and I work with them a lot, including as a teacher, when I take them to the theater. I'm sitting and reading the same Dostoevsky with them, explaining the meaning of the word "frapping." Because they have such a reduced self-demand that they won't even look it up in the dictionary.
Of course, we must reanimate this demand in teachers. Extreme exactingness. Uncompromising. So that graduates understand that the more you know, the more you don't know. Because knowledge opens up endless spaces that need to be explored. And the thirst to master them is an indicator of a complex person to rely on in the future. To society, to art, to the audience, to the director — to everyone who works in this profession.
"I am not Cerberus and I am not going to act with total prohibitions"
— Do you plan to teach yourself?
— Yes, I would like to take an acting course. Besides, I think it's important to think about creating an experimental directing workshop. Today, many young directors know how to make spectacular rides and witty stunts, but they don't know how to work with an actor or build a psychological process. This is a serious shortage. Perhaps, in the Studio School, it is worth considering that actors, at least once every four years, should be accompanied by the release of directors who know how to work in this method.
— Many actors strive to go to the cinema immediately after graduation. Are you letting them go?
— Yes, of course, if it's an interesting offer or a vital income. But I always say the same thing: you can't make all the money. If the project is frankly weak, it may make sense to wait.
— Do they consult with you?
— They consult, they come, they ask. I have strict discipline in the theater, and people who want to act somewhere must write the appropriate paper. This is called an "off-schedule", which must be approved by the artistic director and the repertoire department. I am not a Cerberus and I am not going to act with total prohibitions. This is again a matter of consciousness. An artist must be conscious, and we must educate her.
— Should students love the rector or be afraid?
— The theater is both a family and an army. This is both tradition and innovation. This includes forgiving some weaknesses and being super demanding. The theater is a very complex organism, and the theater university is no exception in this regard. Everything is determined by ethics. It's not only a set of rules, but also a living feeling. And in this regard, by the way, I want to say that Igor Yakovlevich Zolotovitsky was an example of such a leader. For him, the Studio School was sacred, the most important thing, and the students were children.
He had rigor and kindness, wisdom and temperament. He was a very emotional man, lit up, fired up, and endlessly charming. And in this regard, I hope we will be able to maintain continuity.
Actor Igor Zolotovitsky
— Igor Yakovlevich was engaged not only in the Studio School. And you have a Theater on Malaya Bronnaya, the Melnikov stage. How do you plan to allocate your personal time? And does this mean that there will be fewer Konstantin Bogomolov directors?
— I hope that director Bogomolov will never be less. I'm used to working hard, I have energy, and I'm ready to spend it. In general, you need to be able to spend as much as possible, you know. I believe that this is one of the main talents that a person can have — the ability not to get tired of spending on his own business and on other people. For me, rest is often work, and work is often rest.
Directing, guiding, and educating the younger generation are communicating vessels for me. One thing allows me to see the other more clearly, to make diagnoses more precisely, to understand what is necessary for the theatrical process, and to demand it more precisely. If I wasn't confident in myself, if I understood that I could let down my own reputation as a professional in the first place, I wouldn't have taken on this job. I am responsible for my actions.
"Tabakov wouldn't let me go to the side, but I ran away"
— They say about you that you are a perfectionist, both in creativity and in administration: not only do you bring performances to perfection, but you also know how many light bulbs are missing in the theater.
— I believe that the head is responsible for everything. Today there will be a tour of the Studio School. I intend to walk every meter. It is important for me to check the condition of the walls, floors, doors, fittings, plumbing. The condition of the audience. I have already requested what is missing. And I consider it very important to attract additional financing for businesses that can and should help educate the younger generation. I've always done this on Bronnaya Street. I make my rounds at the theater every week. Oleg Pavlovich taught me this, by the way.
Konstantin Bogomolov and Oleg Tabakov
And I can't stand people who walk past an abandoned cup or napkin. This is your area of responsibility. You walk through this space — it's your space, you live in it. So, clean up or adjust the work of the services yourself so that this no longer happens. And Oleg Pavlovich was an absolute model for me in this regard.
— A very large part of your life is connected with Tobacco. As a director, you became in front of his eyes. What kind of human or professional guidance did he give you?
— It was a constant feeling of good energy. He was a very broad-minded man. And he was able to forgive when you made a mistake. Tabakov understood what the movement of a young man in a profession, a young director, meant. He first kept me on the Small Stage at Tabakerka, then transferred me to the Moscow Art Theater, gradually giving me more and more opportunities. He was endlessly witty, light, funny, and very democratic. It was very easy to practice with him. The last five performances in which he appeared on stage were my performances. I'm very proud of it. He believed in me as a director and trusted me with the most important thing he had — his talent, his energy.
— Yes, we remember the wonderful play "The Jeweler's Jubilee".
— And also "The Dragon", "The Marriage of Figaro", "The Seagull", "The Year when I was not Born". He called me "Kinstintin." We called each other every day sometimes. He was very jealous, I must say. He never let me go to the side, but I ran away. He discovered that I was betting somewhere else. I was very jealous. And his passing was a big drama for me, a big loss.
Actor Oleg Tabakov in a scene from Konstantin Bogomolov's play "The Jeweler's Jubilee" at the Chekhov Moscow Art Theater
Tabakov was not at all loved by the theatrical crowd. Because he was very successful and independent. I have never reacted to this malice. Imagine, such a great actor had only one "Golden Mask" — for honor and dignity. He didn't even get it for his great role in The Jeweler's Jubilee. It's amazing. He knew that there were hisses around, but he never paid attention to them and consulted only with those whom he really respected. I have learned his incredible vitality, absolute faith in his own strength and ability to ignore any ill will.
— Is it possible to bring up figures of the scale of Tabakov or Volchek today?
— You know, I always say that everyone has talent, but character is really rare. It is character that allows you to preserve and develop talent. It's difficult with characters today. All the more important is the utmost exactingness in institutions. The young are so soft-bodied, they break down from any difficulty. And that generation didn't break down.
— And life was different.
— It is all the more important that institutions require them. Andrei Alexandrovich Goncharov, whose class leader I was and who called me "nosy," sometimes carried my excerpts so much that I ran away crying to the third tier of the Lighthouse. But how tough it was! I absorbed his incredible energy.
Andrey Aleksandrovich Goncharov, People's Artist of the USSR, Chief Director of the Mayakovsky Moscow Academic Theater
And he was already 80 years old. And every week he studied with us for seven or eight hours. Sometimes he is very ill, with severe pain — he was wounded in the war. He was fanatical about this case. And looking at such a person, one cannot be different. And current students must face the same powerful, even fanatical energies.
"The theater of provocations and attractions is a dusty business"
— In the last decade, we have seen a trend when several institutions trust one theatrical figure at once. You also have three separate houses now. What is the reason for such decisions?
— Oleg Pavlovich Tabakov, by the way, came to the Moscow Art Theater with a mandate from the minister. As they said then. He said the sacramental phrase: "This is a state theater, a state decision." Because there were people there, quite a few of them, who believed that they should be the ones at the head of the theater, because they were members of the Moscow Art Theater and had worked directly with Oleg Nikolaevich Yefremov. As a result, the theater was revived and happily existed for almost 20 years.
The theater on Bronnaya and the former Viktyuk Theater are now one theater. I brought it together because I understood that that site was in deep crisis. At one time, the Moscow Art Theater had a branch. Now it is a wonderful Theater of Nations. There is a branch of the Maly Theater and the Bolshoi Drama Theater in St. Petersburg. It's one organism with two scenes.
— The theater has clearly come to the fore. And what about movies? Will we see you as a director or actor in the near future?
— The movie can wait. It's interesting, but now I have a big new business.
Konstantin Bogomolov as Innokenty Melnikov in the series "Kesha must die"
— Are you familiar with provocation in the theater? Can the theater afford to provoke now? How much does the viewer understand it now?
— You know, first of all, provocation is a different kind of provocation. There is a provocation that is smart, elegant, and tasteful, there is a provocation that is mediocre, stupid, boorish, and tasteless. There has always been a place for provocation in art, but there have been discussions about which has the right to exist and which does not. Everyone chooses for themselves.
Now I'm generally sure that there is nothing more avant-garde and interesting than telling stories about people, about their feelings, relationships, exploits, victories and defeats. Telling psychological stories. I sincerely believe that this is the most avant-garde theater right now, because the theater of provocations and attractions is a dusty business.
"I absolutely believe that we will win. Because we're right."
— Exactly five years ago, you issued a harsh manifesto criticizing Western morality. A new ethical Reich, where society controls not only thoughts, but also emotions — this is how you spoke about Europe and called on Russia to abandon the European model, creating its own alternative. Given all the subsequent military and political events, did our country manage to do this?
— When I presented the manifesto, which I was trying to diagnose the state of Western society and Western elites, I could not have imagined that these very elites, who at some point took power in the West and in certain Western countries, losing this power and feeling threatened by their power and the ideology they formed, would go to war. That they will be ready to defend their power at the cost of blood. Moreover, the blood is not their own, but of peoples alien to them. And it is a pity that Ukraine was used as a tool to fight our country, which took upon itself the declaration of other values and clearly stated that it would not follow the path that the Western elites were trying to lead the whole world. I emphasize, the elites, not the peoples. Because, it seems to me, Western nations are gradually gaining a sober view of those people who are trying to fool them and lead them.
A scene from the play "The Flying Dutchman" directed by Konstantin Bogomolov
I absolutely believe that we will win. Because we're right. Because we are defending not only our country, but also the values that underlie human existence. Those values that make a person human. Sometimes I think about that manifesto and I can subscribe to all the thoughts and ideas.
As for the people of art, our task is to be with the country. To help formulate values, important values, to help inspire. To create for the good of the country. That's the main thing. By the way, this is why I believe that the educational process is the point where not only artists are formed, but responsible citizens are formed.
— Summarizing our entire conversation, what do you think is the current state of our Russian culture and where are we going?
— Russian culture will be fine. Just like our country. I am absolutely sure that there is some very healthy process going on. The most important thing is to be demanding of ourselves and the business we do. The world cannot be imagined without Russian culture. And everyone who tries to abolish Russian culture is stupid.
— At the end of our conversation, I can't help but note that Izvestia is also not the last word for your family, because for a long time your father, Yuri Alexandrovich Bogomolov, was the head of cultural departments. What covenants did he leave you?
— Dad was an exceptionally educated, exceptionally wise, kind and deep person. I remember him with great love, tenderness and with an understanding of what a great man my father was. Of course, we argued, I was young. I tried to contradict him. And he was incredibly patient.
Film critic Yuri Bogomolov
I am very grateful to my parents for the fact that I grew up in an amazing environment of very intelligent, educated, subtle, complex people. I've watched a lot of great directors and actors come to visit us. And I'm shaped by that, too. And in general, I think that we are primarily shaped by our families. That's all.
Переведено сервисом «Яндекс Переводчик»
