Ilya Lepikhov. Either an academician or a hero

Either an academician or a hero
"Russian Empire" by Leonid Parfenov on NTV

Ilya Lepikhov

Publication date: November 10, 2000

Academician on whales, academician on cats,
Two editors with a proofreader.
Newsreel with spotlight,
Young naturalists
And other specialists.
B.Zakhoder

Just in October, the Television Academy awarded Leonid Parfenov a special prize for the project “Live Pushkin”. The recognition came at the right time - Igor Severyanin recalled: “How beautiful, how fresh the roses will be // My country threw me into the coffin ,” - in his kink, in his manner, in his temperament, he was somehow subtly reminiscent of Mr. Parfenov. No, the latter in his early years did not draw full houses (although I’m lying - he did, even in the project “All Zhvanetsky”), did not perform courtly couples, but that’s all. And he had complete order with pineapples in champagne - Veuve Clicquot was uncorked to a leisurely story about a daring sideburner - and Mr. Parfenov proudly carried the unspoken title of superior among equals, the king of television journalists, through the crazy 90s. From shabby Bologna to the impeccable "Trussardi", from the epic tale about the sixties to the "history of our time", as the project "Namedni 1961-2000" was pretentiously called in the NTV interprogram space - this is the path of Severyanin-Parfenov, Parfenov-Severyanin, a Vologda resident by birth . Just a few years ago, all the young employees of one, as they now say, TV channel considered it their duty to match their idol (don’t think that Gusinsky): stretch out vowels just as gallantly, snort at the end of a rhetorical period, grin just as practiced teeth and bristling - I can’t find another word - eyelids. King! King!

But the further, the more definitely the things that made him a name for himself disappeared from Parfenov’s programs: courage, attitude, drive. Perhaps we are mistaken, but we got the feeling that Parfenov suddenly lost interest in the subject and began to serve , to do what he was supposed to do, inside and out, even though he had developed production cliches - God forbid everyone.

“Living Pushkin” was, in our opinion, the highest point of Parfenov’s career as a particularist. There has never been a more correct: a calculated, picturesque, technological - and at the same time lifeless project on domestic TV - everything from a haberdashery store, a little from a collection of works and a deliberate Breguet on a fragile wrist from myself.

The bold details seemed piercingly out of place in the story of a poet whose debt at the time of his death amounted to an astronomical amount. Television poetics, hungry for novelty and luxury, came into insoluble conflict with the requirements of the poetics of common sense. As a result, the painted hot air balloon from the fairy tale about Pushkin hung between the earth and the sky: beautiful, large and not suitable for flight. “Living Pushkin” (educational) such a title should have preceded each part of the story about a man in a lionfish and a lepage in his bosom. The embarrassment was all the more deafening as triumph was soon expected, all the conditions for which, it would seem, were present in abundance.

However, the academicians liked it. The owner is a gentleman.

But if “The Living Pushkin” is fitting to be classified as an academic pearl, then “The Russian Empire” is fitting to be crowned with a noble heroic laurel - this is luck, a complete, all-crushing success and in some respects, I’m not afraid to say, epoch-making.

The last characteristic relates mainly to the technological side of the matter. I simply have never heard a more perfectly recorded sound on domestic TV - only in one episode (driving through Unter den Linden) it would not have hurt to use wind protection, and even then you cannot be sure that the result would surpass the existing one. The light is so good that I remembered it only when I sat down at the keyboard - the surest sign of a job well done.

But the main thing is that Parfenov managed to brilliantly avoid the main strategic difficulties that inevitably await the author of any historical television text: either there is no picture at all, or it is insufficient, or it is motionless. The Russian proverb about the comparative merits of horseradish and radish comes to mind by itself.

The simplest solution, which naturally arises in such a situation, consists, as a rule, in driving images of different texture and quality into a decolorized special effect and the subsequent so-called “looping” of the visual series: changing the original projection speed or continuous reproduction of a marked passage adjusted to the duration of the voice-over text . A big fan of this simple trick is the famous film director I. Dykhovichny, who uses this principle consistently and steadily. But Parfenov, who always took his visuals very seriously, would not be himself if he limited himself to the reproduction of banality.

If he himself came up with the installation principle on which the building of the "Empire" is based, then he is a genius, if this idea dawned on Messrs. Levin or Skvortsov, who sculpted the graphics for the project, means that they are worthy of being called “titans of thought” and “remarkable natures.” And even - most likely - the principle of coexistence on the screen of pictures displayed in full raster (screen) was invented by an unknown German or British craftsman - thank you, comrade! Never before on our television has the problem of visual poverty been so convincingly resolved. As for extremes, as editing engineers say, “they chop the remote control and the films fly.” Some deliberateness of the subsequent “internetization” of the design: an annoying arrow wandering across the screen, file envelopes, beating chapters - can be considered something like an optional curl, empty, but no less cute.

We would not like to touch upon the actual historical concept of the series. Mr. Parfenov's group is engaged in television, not history, and it would be foolish to expect anything from it other than entertaining and picturesque. Everything is fine with them. No, of course, it would be possible to color the narrative with a dozen facts and facts that have a reliable effect on the fragile soul of our TV viewer. Thus, the gastronomic preferences of Peter, about whom Parfenov spoke a lot and passionately, were down-to-earth and unpretentious. Presenting one of the distinguished officers with a piece of kulebyaki, Peter, according to Klyuchevsky, said: “Eat, eat, this is not some kind of pizza for you!” Here is the plot: kulebyak patriotism is before leavened patriotism, Peter is the first Russian patriot, tailored (baked) according to a new model. It would work out well.

The role of semantic emphasis in “The Russian Empire” was played by animated pictures “a la Russe”, which parodically played out the connotations of the “serious” narrative. Just imagine: the presenter finishes the kulebyak, wipes himself clean, and then suddenly Peter appears (drawn, of course), breaks at the waist, and painted sterlets swim out of the hypothetical belly, fried swans fly out and come out covered in scales like the heat of grief, thirty three Sich archers led by Tsarevich Alexei. And the music is so cheerful, cheerful: “If I scratch the back of my head, // It’s not a problem. // There’s sawdust in my head, // There’s water in the Neva.” Dramatic counterpoint.

What could be done in relation to Peter fully applies to both his daughter Elizabeth and his niece Anna. The first, according to contemporaries, seduced her nephew, then emperor, Peter the Second. Plot? What a great one! We will not describe its possible graphic solution for reasons of censorship and general humanitarian nature.

And the disgrace of the former royal favorites Dolgoruky, which followed under Anna, can generally form the subject of an independent study with the working title “Princes - to the dirt!” or “...on the mud,” but not some of the healing ones from Baden or Carlsbad, but the most banal ones from Berezovsky. In this story there would be a place for a fairy-tale incident, death on the chopping block, and a monastic feat - in a word, everything that Mother Russia is so rich in and that the old TV viewer is so eager for.

However, even without that, “Russian Empire” is entertaining to the point of stupidity. And this is praise, and in no way a reproach. There are so many facts, people, schemes and dispositions, and the events are so textbook: the Streltsy riot, Poltava, the founding of St. Petersburg - that kaleidoscopicity seems to be the only possible principle capable of reconciling material so different in texture. For the first time, the main "advantage-disadvantage" of Parfenov's projects - their extreme high cost - turns into an undoubted achievement. The principle takes on material. The empire demands luxury, the viewer demands luxury, and the journalist generously offers it: the splendor of the decorations and chambers is perfectly complemented by fractional editing and shading and backlighting.

In a word, everything is wonderful. Minor shortcomings, such as: grammatical errors, sloppiness in titling, simply barbaric chromakey (this is when a figure is shot on a monochrome, usually green, field (here for some reason they decided to use pink), and then combined with a graphic background) cannot highlight the aesthetic achievements of the project, although, of course, it would be desirable to do without blunders. However, everything has its positive sides. At least now the TV academics will have good reasons not to award Mr. Parfenov TEFI for the second year in a row. On the other hand, how do we know how they will react to the “Russian Empire”. Perhaps she won’t accept them - it’s too non-academic for the academy. Not like a king, you know, like an emperor. Not in the Northern way - in the Mayakov way. A couple more experiments in film and graphics - and, lo and behold, Blok is just a stone's throw away. And there...

If not Pushkin, then almost Lermontov, Leonid Parfenov was already. Back in 1989, he made a story about the upcoming presidential elections in Bulgaria (later the opposition candidate Zhelyu Zhelev won). Neither before nor after have I seen anything similar in terms of power of expression, visual power and novelty. The announcers of the Vremya program, taking turns in front of a cardboard backdrop with the inscription “Bulgaria,” accompanied by the musical theme “Under the Balkan Stars”: “Bulgaria is a good country, and Russia is the best,” overturned all the old TV. It was brilliant - there’s no other word for it.

It is wonderful that after many years of television service, Leonid Parfenov released a project that can be at least somewhat equated with previous achievements.

He is a very talented person. Perhaps the only truly talented television producer currently practicing.

If only he had a couple of competitors to match - it would be so interesting for you and me to watch TV!

PS Maybe some of you, dear gentlemen, know Mr. Parfenov personally. Not for service, but for friendship - ask to read it. And I will be pleased, and, I suppose, he will also be interested.

Sincerely yours, Author.