My Kostik.
©by Leonid Zorin, "Kinopark", March 1997
I moved to Moscow from a southern city as it was said in "Pokrovskie Vorota" ("The Pokrovskie Gate") in September of 1948. I rented a walk-through room in an overcrowded apartment in the building on the Petrovsky Boulevard. That's were I spent my youth.
It went by amazingly fast (and so did most of my life), and turning fifty I was overwhelmed by the feeling that I had to relive it again. During winter in Maleyevka I wrote a "nostalgic comedy" which brought back to life the old apartment and all those people who lived there. I made up absolutely nothing except moved the story about 10 years ahead and changed the address to be closer to the Pokrovskie Gate. It was done mainly because all the prototypes were still alive.
I should also admit that instead of a landlady my Kostik has got an aristocratic aunt. It was the only step away from the truth.
Same year this comedy was staged by the Malaya Bronnaya Theater. It was directed by Mikhail Kozakov, and I must say he did a great job.
The play had many years of success, and the idea of a TV-version seemed pretty good. The script was accepted and Kozakov gave up an idea of working on the TV-version of a different play - Pushkin's "Pikovaya Dama".
The parts were assigned fast, the only problem was with the part of Kostik for which we couldn't find an actor. While trusting the director with everything else I was very stubborn at picking out Kostik. This role was autobiographical and it was impossible to meet my nostalgic requirements.
Finally, Kozakov found Menshikov. It took me a minute to realize that this was the guy I dreamed of! He just graduated from college and he still had this youthful fleur about him, but you could also notice he was very sharp and independant.
Kozakov said that it was too early to celebrate since Menshikov already had gotten a part in the movie directed by Julius Raisman (if I'm not mistaken, it was "Private Life").
I couldn't accept losing the actor. No, never! He was "my Kostik", and there couldn't be another.
I openly wrote to noble Julius Raisman about the connection of the main character to the scriptwriter's biography, and that I needed Menshikov, and I didn't see the picture without him. After this Raisman was kind enough to give up his actor.
When "Pokrovskie Vorota" came out, Menshikov became very popular. Just like his character he won over the hearts of people. It was no surprise - Menshikov had given my southerner his victorious strength, the magic of his divine gift. The biggest skepticist wouldn't be able to resist this kind of energy outburst. Youth is always right, and life is beautiful, no matter what.
The movie was out and our paths haven't crossed again. From afar - with greatest appreciation and love - I watched Menshikov's triumphs, his unstoppable flight. With every role his talent grew stronger, got more qualities, became deeper. All I could do was be amazed at how this chosen one, this lucky one read someone else's face, how he saw deep into strangers' souls. Unwillingly an alarm rings: what do I know about his own struggles? Public life is just a cover up of a complete loneliness. Menshikov doesn't keep the distance between himself and the world for nothing. He appeared to us as a poet and a Caesar. Sometimes he was an executioner, and sometimes he was the executed, but more often he was both at the same time. However, he never was just Oleg Menshikov. I could only guess what became of him in 15 years, what kind of marks all those roles and years left on him. They never disappear without a trace, they change the character and the soul. Years do it more than roles do.
All this time I wrote my prose about Kostik Romin and his satellites, trying to see how the youth vanishes and life unmercifully makes a winner into a defeated.
Two years ago I put together and published this "Rominiada". Now, after placing all these novels one after another in chronological order, I can see Kostik losing his divine innocence and taking possession of the damned knowledge.
Nevertheless, Oleg Menshikov's face shines at me from the cover of the first volume. Years and experience haven't taken a grip of it. No matter what happens to Kostik Romin, I don't want any harsh changes to reflect on the one who impersonated him so perfectly. Let him walk his road, and let him be an example of the invincible youth.
Submitted by Maria Srogovich
Translated by InKa
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