Alexey Slapovsky, writer, scriptwriter, playwriter
I remembered: when the anti-alcohol campaign began at the end of the USSR, an interview with Nikolay Burlyayev was shown on TV several times, who said with civic sorrow that, no matter how bitter he was to admit it, Vladimir Vysotsky treated him to alcohol for the first time. It pains me to remember this, he said, Vysotsky is a great man, he said, but a fact is a fact, he said.
I then wondered: what is it, why? Who pulled you by the tongue? He snitched like a deceased senior comrade - for the sake of time? Authorities? Or does one's own sober righteousness burn from the inside - what if they don't notice it and don't appreciate it?
It is characteristic that Burlyaev, who played many excellent roles with wonderful directors, since that time has been filmed less and less. But he became a professional moralist, whom he remains to this day. He sits on commissions, authoritatively decides what to let in and what not to let in.
Or. Zhanna Bichevskaya, a wonderful singer in the original, though not indisputable, Russian-folk style, actively toured, released giant discs. And then, alas, at the opening act for the "Time Machine" ("Mashina vremeny") (I was at such a concert), there is no former popularity, but there is nothing new in creativity, but violent patriotic activity and the composition of Orthodox moralizing cantatas, where there is no melody , and texts so-so.
Sample:
Russians are coming
and the lights are on
Russians are coming
Remind the Russians who they are!
Russians are coming!
Prohibition with violence.
Russians are coming
not only to protect the Russians.
Or. There was a good film director Nikita Mikhalkov. Bortnik's monologue from "Rodney", brilliantly directed and played, I watched twenty times. And much more. And then he began to teach people and liberals how to live. And, again, for some reason, just when his patriotic fire flared up, the creative flame faded and died out. You could blame the critics, but the people did not appreciate it either. Apparently, the liberals are to blame for this. They chipped.
I think you yourself will continue and give many similar examples.
Among democratic creators (in fact or in appearance) it also happens: the magnificent Eldar Ryazanov is both preoccupied with social super-tasks and thoughts about the Fatherland, and that's all. *
Limonov, as he left the personal for the public, played the National Bolshevik, he got bored.
I do not agree with the stilted phrase that patriotism is the last refuge of scoundrels, but it seems to be the last refuge of mediocrity. Or original, or become so.
I will not lie that I was worried or care about the sad fate of these people to the point of insomnia. Their fate, their choice. But I am very concerned that some of them have risen - or put - at the head of the cultural-disciplinary process.
They proceed primarily from patriotism, but patriotism understood narrowly and in a party way. Actually, their patriotism is a kind of partisanship or even sectarianism, with all the ensuing consequences and organizational conclusions. And on their banner they have a line from St. Kunyaeva: "Kindness must be with fists"!
A small lyrical digression: when I first heard this line as a student, having heard it at some lecture, and not having read it, for some reason I decided that this was an assumption. "Good must be with fists". I felt here a special depth, mental softness, hope: they say, good, probably with fists, if in the end it sometimes wins here and there. But no, it turned out that this was an order for the army of arts and the rear of life. Must - and the coven.
So. As long as these sterile people deal with themselves, I don't care. But when they start to poke and babak, it concerns me personally and my comrades. You can laugh at this: freaks, make lists of who is due, who is toffee. They want to be holier than the Pope. Dear ones, history shows that even the popes were afraid of those who showed such activity. And indulged them, and often followed their recommendations.
Not only Fadeev listened to Stalin, Stalin also listened to Fadeev.
So this is not just a private initiative of Gogol's Chartkov (cunning Gogol knew that Russian phonetics would remake him into CHERTkov), who burned the paintings of gifted artists, this is a filthy and vile game of statehood, of patriotism.
I remind these not very thoughtful people: true patriotism is what benefits the Motherland.
Denunciation does not benefit the Motherland.
Calls for hypocrisy (speak FOR, but think what you want) do not benefit the motherland.
The division of creators into lambs and goats on the basis of party-sectarianism does not benefit the homeland.
Stimulation of the "correct" creators by state funds does not benefit the Motherland, on the contrary, only harm: thousands and thousands of ideologically verified and mediocre, forgotten paintings, books, films of the Soviet era are evidence of this.
Doublethink, doublethink, combined with barracks - do not benefit the Motherland.
False opposition of the free-thinking creative intelligentsia (pardon the archaism) to the people does not benefit the Motherland. “You are the people, and I am the people,” Zolotukhin sang to the music of Dashkevich and the words of Yu. Mikhailov - that is, Yuli Kim, who was forced to hide under this pseudonym due to the instigation of the then prilepins. Julius Kim, half Korean and 148% Russian in creativity - here's an argument in favor of true patriotism. Yes, and I, the peasant's son, is also an argument. Sorry.
There is an expression: peace enforcement. What they are doing is forcing mediocrity. Mobilize it. These patriots are the real pests of my Fatherland, its culture, its spirit and thought. And, I repeat, they are not harmless. When I masochistically watch 2-3 minutes of speeches by Burlyaev or Prilepin, when I see these fanatical merciless eyes, I hear their spruce, they are homespun, rough and homespun speeches, I feel creepy.
* I was asked to remove Ryazanov: it is out of context. But I will leave, substituting: I'd rather be wrong with my mind than right with someone else's.