"I don't give a damn about Cannes! From Kaliningrad to Vladivostok, here's your Cannes"

The star of the film "Brother", People's Artist of Russia Viktor Sukhorukov believes that the loss of connection with the past turns into a loss of orientation for the people, and a loss of meaning for a person. That is why the work in Anton Bogdanov's new painting "The Beauty" about the feat of the Leningrad Zoo staff during the years of the blockade for Sukhorukov became a continuation of an internal dialogue about memory, responsibility and service. In an exclusive interview with Izvestia, he told how he underwent open heart surgery immediately after filming, why he did not put an end to his relationship with the Mossovet Theater and whether he is ready to return to the troupe.

"On the 28th, I finished filming, and on the 3rd, I had surgery."

— On February 19, the film "Beauty" about the quiet feat of zoo staff during the terrible war years is released. What attracted you to this story?

— Director Anton Bogdanov played a big role in this. We used to meet through acting in the films "Fire", "World Champion". I didn't know at the time that he was a director and a student of Pavel Lungin, whom I adore and respect immensely. I really appreciate working with him in the movie "The Island".

Even if Anton had just come up to me and said that he was Lungin's student, I would have agreed to act with him. And it's an honor for me that a young director who loves life and treats everyone with respect suddenly offered me a part in his film. Only a fool could refuse such a scenario. It has all the ingredients of popularity.

"Like what?"

— A powerful story that actually happened during the siege of Leningrad. There is a zoo and animals inside that most difficult life. And hungry people in the besieged city saved the animals. Just think about it! It may sound pathetic, pathetic, but it's true.

An important plus is the acting ensemble. It's been a long time since I've experienced such joy and spiritual uplift either in the cinema or in the theater. When three generations gathered: Stasia Miloslavskaya, Slava Kopeikin, Julia Peresild, Vanya Dobronravov and yours truly.

There were also children, a boy and a girl, Polina Aynutdinova and Elisha Chuchilin. They worked as adult actors — they were children of that time. They seemed to have stepped out of the chronicle of those years. All of our characters had real prototypes, which is a huge plus for the artist.

I'm generally a proponent of the content, the plot. As in the fairy tale: "once upon a time." So this film, despite all that I have listed, is a fairy tale story.

— And what is the fabulousness?

— In some kind of Russian mythology. Suddenly, in this dramatic, historical, biographical picture, the main character turns out to be not a man, but a Hippopotamus. She speaks human language here — she is voiced by the great actress Maria Aronova.

— Wait, were there any real animals?

"They're all real. Imagine, I was bandaging a camel! He smelled like manure, and I told him, "You're so good at not kicking." I also held a live tiger cub in my arms. It was small, but heavy and not at all harmless.

Adult tigers are more intelligent: they no longer have just an instinct, but a developed reaction to humans. And a tiger cub is like a child — he has no laws, only nature in him.

And so they give it to me in my arms. It is necessary to curb the beast, turn to the camera. I also give him milk from a bottle. Of course, I was afraid, but he didn't offend me. Maybe I let him go in time.

We also had two monkeys. I had to play a whole scene with one, and the second one, sitting in a basket, screamed and screamed at the whole object, either jealous or afraid that her friend was being taken away. And it had to be dealt with somehow.

— Did you have trainers? How did you manage?

— It took a long time to adapt: they stroked me, gave me candy. I had a girl. And the other monkey, the guy, was very aggressive about it.

There's an episode there—I hope it wasn't cut. I'm singing tiger cub from a milk bottle. He gets drunk, and then abruptly breaks away and runs. A drop is flowing through the bottle. And I understand: This is not a drop of milk, but a drop of life! I couldn't just let it disappear and I licked it off.

One of the workers on the site immediately said: "It's indecent, unhygienic." And I say, "You have an antihypertension, and I have a blockade!" I suddenly realized that I was hungry myself. And then a whole drop is flowing, and I licked it off. Maybe this frame will be cut out. But I cherish such things.

— Stasia Miloslavskaya and Slava Kopeikin starred with you. How do you like such young partners?

— Great guys! Stasia is so skinny. I hug her—she has nothing but ribs. And she's holding a rope that leads the bear. He's young, but he's huge. I started beating her up, dragging her, but she wouldn't let go. He turns to the right, then to the left, then drops. Stasia is rolling in the snow, but she's holding on.

When this performance ended, everyone suddenly realized that the bear was without a muzzle. He would have smeared it with his paw and there would have been no face. I was shocked.

And Slava Kopeikin. Before I met him in person, I perceived him exclusively as a modern boy — such a ridiculous crank, a bit of an orphan. And here he was in a soldier's uniform, as if he had stepped out of a wartime photograph.

At the beginning of the film, we appear one way, physically and spiritually, and we end up completely different. In the finale, my close—up. I stand there and smile. Sukhorukov had never given anyone such a smile.

Once in "Brother 2," Lyosha Balabanov wanted me to smile in the scene when Danila asks my character, "Will you come to America with me?" And I had to smile at him. But Lyosha didn't like my "dirty" smile (laughs). And here Anton Bogdanov left it. And for that, I bow to him.

— It turns out that this job was a complete holiday for you.

— I was happy. I had a few shooting days: from January to the end of February. During this period, I went to the playground, returned to Moscow, played performances, and went back to the besieged zoo. And all this happened against the background of acute myocardial infarction.

I finished filming on the 28th, and on March 3rd I had open-heart surgery.

Today I tell you about it proudly, solemnly, smiling. But when the great surgeon Igor Anatolyevich Glushenko performed the operation, I asked him, already with my chest sewn up: "How is that? I spent a whole month filming a movie in the cold in St. Petersburg and didn't feel anything?"

And he told me, "You must have been too involved. Although your heart has been suffering for a long time." So I dedicate my heartache to the movie "Beauty."

"The blockade is not the past, but the continuation of the war in you"

— January 27, 1944 is a great day for our country. 82 years ago, the siege of Leningrad was completely lifted. Now everyone is talking about the need for patriotic cinema. But how do you shoot the truth, not the attraction?

— Even for me, who was born after the Great Patriotic War, the war was no longer in my life, but in books, textbooks, poems, memoirs, memoirs. My generation perceived these events as a huge tragic page in the country's history, but through what they read and told.

And today's generation is even further away. They may even dismiss it and say it's not true. Because even a very emotional person can no longer feel it on their skin.

To understand yourself as a continuation of the family, of humanity, as part of your country, you need to figure out where your last name comes from, where your grandmother, grandfather, and where you were born. To trace, at least out of curiosity: Who I am. And in the end, you come to war. But it's the same life, only in extreme conditions.

But today there are too many lies, versions of the same event. Who should I trust? What to cling to? The scariest thing is not to figure out where the truth and love are, where the roots of your past are.

If you don't want to know, please. Get tattoos, put nose rings, walk, drink, enjoy. But how can you not ask yourself the question: "How did I end up here?" It's a miracle. And everyone has the same death. We are not the beginning, but the continuation.

The blockade is not the past, it is the continuation of the war in you. So get to know her. Then you will understand that you have a genetic power and a truth that you will pass on to your children. In order not to become a slave, not to turn into a slime, but to remain a person.

I tell young directors: read, study. We have huge archives in the same State Film Fund. I watch these documentaries and my hair stands on end. Yes, I'm bald, but they're worth it!

When you make a movie, you have to understand that you're not making it for yourself, but for people. For a huge number of viewers.

They tell me: "We're going to Cannes." I don't give a damn about Cannes! From Kaliningrad to Vladivostok, here's your Cannes.

Write a story that will be understandable, interesting, that will enrich me, that will truly touch me. Make movies for people, and then they'll remember you.

— Recently, the acting rector of the Moscow Art Theater Studio School Konstantin Bogomolov lamented the decline in the level of acting education - they cannot sing, dance, do not speak French, do not read classics. Do you share this point of view?

— There are always legion students in acting schools. I don't know the exact numbers now, but in my time there were 116 people per place. And yes, only a few come out of this huge army. As for young people, everyone has their own taste.

Personally, I really love Gogol. I read it when I was 16, reread it when I was 37 and 42. I know some of it almost by heart. And today, Nikolai Vasilyevich's book is lying by my pillow again, as if for the first time.

Therefore, I would not advise blaming young people, condemning them for not knowing something. It's better to say, "Try it. Try it. Open the book. Take a look, read it. If you don't like it, you can postpone it. But at least start." Young people should not be scolded or agitated, but try to convince them that reading books, learning about history, and studying literature — especially their own — is an incredibly interesting life.

Of course, you need to study movement and develop your voice. But a lot of great actors have never been able to sing and have not done it. For example, the star of the era Oleg Yankovsky. We starred together in the film Poor, Poor Pavel, where I played Emperor Paul I, and he played Count Peter Palen. We had a great relationship, but I didn't know at all that Yankovsky couldn't sing.

In the film "Two Comrades Served," the director wanted Oleg Yankovsky and Rolan Bykov, another of our geniuses who, unfortunately, is being forgotten today, to sing together. And suddenly it turned out that Yankovsky could not sing, so Bykov sang alone.

"I did not put an end to the relationship with the Mossovet Theater"

— Since 2012, you have been traveling all over the world with the play "The Eldest Son". Why is he so dear to you and how has Sarafanov's image changed over the years?

— On February 12, I won't be at the premiere of "The Beauty", because on that day I will play "The Eldest Son" for the last time. I've been playing Sarafanov for 13 years. The performance was a huge success all over the country. Unique actors started out in it — Evgeny Tsyganov, Evgeny Stychkin, Granya Steklova, Evgenia Kregzhde, Roman Polyansky, Vasya Simonov. Years have passed, and today other actors are playing brilliantly — Dima Vlaskin, Dima Endaltsev, Igor Nevedrov. Everyone has changed except me. Well, Zhenya Kregzhdeh.

Despite that, I understood: It's time for me to leave. I told the director: the performance is high-quality, valuable, and in demand, but I have to go. My character is forty years old. Yes, age is not so important on stage. I'm energetic, temperamental, and I could keep playing. But something needs to change in my life. It's my anniversary year, and maybe something new will be born — the prerequisites for this already exist.

The "eldest son" remains in my heart very deeply and forever. It will be a granite stone in the archive — this performance has graced my creative life. But February is the last month of this child.

— You just said that you understood when to leave. A few years ago, you left the Mossovet Theater. Are you interested in what is happening there now?

— You're asking a tricky question, but I'll be honest. I did not put an end to the relationship with the Mossovet Theater. It's just that it's probably indecent for me to repeat for the hundredth time the reason for my departure from the Academic State Theater, which was once built by Stalin for his favorite actors. Look at the actors who served there — Mom, don't grieve.

I closed the door, disagreeing with the appointment of an artistic director. All. The government has the right to appoint anyone, and I have the right to take a closer look and choose whether I am ready to serve with this person. It is to serve, not to work for thirty kopecks.

I've been watching the new manager for a whole season, almost a year, and I realized: It's not mine. He's not interested in me, and what he's going to do is alien to me. This is not a denial. It's just not close to me.

This is the fourth year I have not worked in this theater. I say to myself, "Sukhorukov, you were invited to play the role of Tsar Fyodor Ioannovich. You didn't want to fit into the team, you weren't going to sign a contract. He's gone, and that's fine. What are you worried about?" And then I answer myself: "I'm not worried."

Someone will probably want to catch me — Sukhorukov is counting the years. No, they count themselves. I live such a busy life that I just record the time. I left a lot of important things in the theater that are no longer appreciated there today.

And you know, in all these years, a strange miracle has happened: I have never passed by the Mossovet Theater. Not once — past the service arch. How is this possible? I don't know who's taking me away from this route.

— Are you ready to return to the permanent troupe of any theater?

— Yes, I'm ready. And I'll be back. Soon. You will find out about it. The New Year has already given me a gift — a big offer from a powerful theater. It will be a serious role in the new play. In addition, I am traveling all over the country with the one-man show "Happy Days" and preparing a new author's program "Gorgeous Life", which I will play at the Elena Kamburova Theater in March.

I have one more thing to do — I don't like the word "project". I read Shukshin's stories with the unique Nekrasov Orchestra of Russian folk instruments.

— Now such formats have become especially popular among artists.

— Yes, I play women, men, the wind, a motorcycle, a sleepy man on a pillow — everything that Shukshin writes about. Although there are those who say that the stories are unsuccessful, and the music is incorrectly chosen. Speak up, speak up! But the audience is coming, the demand is huge.

People love me. Of course, I'm proud of it, but I think: How dangerous it is. After all, as it arrived, so it will fly away. You have to be responsible, diligent and very in love with the audience. That's how I stay.