Mikhail Fikhtengolts. Cowards and singing

Cowards and singing
Paper Press Review

Mikhail Fikhtengolts

Publication date: April 20, 2001

One can only envy us. In just two weeks, each of us experienced so many events that could have been enough for someone abroad for a year, if not two. The paper press was directly affected by these events. Now (I don’t even know whether to rejoice or laugh) I read exactly two less publications - Segodnya and Itogi have gone on forced sabbatical . In fact, it’s a pity when good people drop out of the ranks and you don’t know whether it’s temporarily or permanently. Previously, however, all sorts of divisions in the media ended with the proliferation of printed publications: once upon a time there was “Vremya MN”, then it gave birth to “Vremya Novostei”; Once upon a time there was Izvestia, and then it split into two - and Novye Izvestia appeared. The latter newspaper, by the way, recently, through an effort of will, changed its expression and acquired a new logo and design. The reason for this, according to the editors, was the accusations of the old Izvestia that the New ones were taking away their glory. God is their judge. With a new face, however, Novye Izvestia did not become any better; but worse too.

The past two weeks will not be forgotten by the ballet columnists of Moscow newspapers, who experienced a slight shock from the touring performances of the British troupe of disabled dancers "CanDoCo". By God, it’s a heartbreaking sight to watch people without limbs and sitting in wheelchairs dancing. What and especially how to write about it is not entirely clear. The main thing is to maintain tact and be extremely careful in your wording. Everyone, in fact, did just that. The phenomenon of the troupe itself belongs exactly in the “Society” department, since the artistic level of the show is not subject to discussion for ethical reasons. Maybe that’s why Valery Panyushkin wrote about CanDoCo in Kommersant, and Tatyana Kuznetsova limited herself to a rather sparse professional comment. For other articles, I suggest reading Anna Gordeeva (Novye Izvestia) or Pavel Rudnev (Vremya Novostei).

Film critics weren’t particularly happy this past week either. One of the heaviest films of recent times, “Requiem for a Dream,” was released. As Alexey Medvedev (Vremya Novostey) warns readers, it will be painful: “At the premiere of Requiem for a Dream at the London Film Festival, director Darren Aronofsky warned: watching the film is difficult, after 45-50 minutes you will be very painful, so let me know in advance apologize to everyone. On top of everything, the usual festival audience, of course, readily laughed. After the film, they walked out silently, sideways, avoiding looking each other in the eyes. It will really hurt. So choose: if you want a good mood and a boost of energy for the week, watch "Where my car, dude?”, and if you’re still willing to risk your peace of mind for one of the most extreme film experiences of your life, then you can’t do without “Requiem for a Dream.”

To change the sad topic, let's talk about intimate things. As you probably already know, the exhibition “Body Memory (Underwear of the Soviet Era)” has opened at the Central House of Artists. The name of the exhibition itself is intriguing, not to mention the exhibits; Andrei Kovalev and Yuri Arpishkin write about this (“Time MN”): “The closest association evoked by the name of the exhibition “Body Memory” for a person growing in our latitudes is the key folk maxim for Russian historiosophy about the memory of a flogged ass. But it seems that for art, this motif has become a thing of the past along with social art. Now social pathos is replaced by a measured study of the problem of physicality, which was hidden in the Soviet years. The exhibition of underwear lifts the veil of mystery of Soviet physicality, immersed in the abyss of suffering. When the straps press, the elastic bands tear the skin , socks are torn, stockings are falling off. However, this was a secret only for the young readers of the magazine "L'Officiel", the poster of which is displayed at the entrance to the exhibition. For bearers of historical consciousness, the exhibition is moderately sentimental, moderately educational, moderately radical and very harmonious."

“Items collected at the exhibition: primitive unisex of the early Soviet years (pants and T-shirts for athletes) in the “Private/Public” section; the notorious “bouffled” trousers of the post-war decade and complexly constructed silk graces, strong as bulletproof vests (section “Life/Shame”) ; ersatz tights with stockings sewn to panties, “desperate self-string” bras with a pretense of eroticism and nylon slips (a symbol of femininity) from the era of chronic shortages of goods (section “Depression/Dream”), running through all periods of long johns, from which fashionistas sewed trousers , - all this is accompanied not only by explanatory texts, but also by recorded memories of the unfortunate owners of these toilet items" - reports Olga Kabanova (Izvestia) - "Recorded stories about awkwardness, shame, emotional dependence on things and the orders established during forced collective life of a Soviet person (in a kindergarten, a communal apartment, a school, an army), about the lack of the right to intimacy give the exhibition such a piercing lyrical sound that, indeed, it brings tears to especially sensitive, not very young spectators.”

Larisa Yusipova (Vedomosti) is somewhat less sentimental: “Although the main refrain of many statements is “how good it is that there is no Soviet power anymore,” the exhibition is not at all “exposing” and is not at all social art. Fortunately, there is nothing nostalgic in it "No, either. Each visitor will remember what he can remember."

We must pay tribute to the talent of the organizers - Ekaterina Degot and Yulia Demidenko. They managed to get under the skin of both the public and the critics. Starting Saturday, we'll see if the British Council can accomplish the same feat - it's also going to show underwear. I personally have already been touched: I once came to the British Council, and there, in the arts department, between papers, faxes, and business cards, blood-red panties were gaping (it was the curator of the exhibition, Maria Kozlovskaya, who received one of the exhibits from London).

Yes, don’t forget about another remarkable exhibition - works by Alexander Deineka came to the Tretyakov Gallery from the Kursk Regional Gallery. Nikolai Molok (“Vremya Novostei”), having gone to the opening, learned a lot of interesting things, which he shared with the reader : “As for discoveries, these are Deineka’s late works. This is where Impressionism, Cezanneism, and also Matisse appear. Deineka's last paintings of the 60s (he died in 1969) are numerous variations on the theme of Matisse's still lifes and interiors. And, I must say, they are also very good. It seems that in these later works Deineka compensated for what he was deprived of in his youth: having forgotten about socialist realism, he began to study the history of art. Usually, this is where an artist’s education begins. For Deineka, everything turned out the other way around. In a self-portrait of 1948, Alexander Deineka depicted himself full-length - in shorts and a robe, in sports slippers and with a towel in his hand "What we see here is not an artist, a slovenly and sleep-deprived and not a bearded representative of bohemia in the obligatory beret. But a real Soviet artist - kind, honest and courageous. An athlete, a Komsomol member and, finally, just a handsome man." .

The coloring of the note is noticeably brightened, and rightly so. My colleagues in the musical department took a sharp break at Easter - Goran Bregovic and Chick Corea performed at the same time in Moscow. The first, according to Alexey Munipov (Izvestia), is just a song. I won’t quote anything from Munipov’s article - read the whole thing , and that’s all here. I will quote the lines of Yuri Yarotsky (Kommersant): “Everything was like a mixture of a symphony concert and a folk music festival, but with an atmosphere of a get-together or, say, elements of a show . ” For those especially interested, there is an interview with Bregovich on the pages of Kommersant, as well as Afisha.

Academic music observers took Chick Corea more seriously and pleased him with detailed discussions about the musician’s style. Corea himself, printed on the pages of Kommersant and Vedomosti with a stupid grimace and his tongue sticking out at the Great Hall of the Conservatory, was least inclined to behave seriously. He felt good and so did the audience. Elena Cheremnykh (Kommersant) got to the bottom of the pianist: “Coria doesn’t pretend to be either a star or a radical innovator, he also cares about additionally entertaining the audience. Either he himself, during a drum solo, slaps his stick in the palm of his hand. Or the double bassist bombs his hands on the soundboard rhythm, subject only to tam-tam virtuosos. Any of the instrumental solos are ten times longer and more complex than the norm. Glossy finishing and an absolute lack of pathos - it seems that it was this super-contact that ensured the success of the white Corea Trio (an American Italian and two Jews), which confidently supplanted black musicians from the hierarchical heights of both bohemian and official New York jazz" .

It all ended with the joint ecstasy of Corea and the audience, as Pyotr Pospelov writes (“Izvestia”): “At the conclusion of the program, the hall fell so under the power of the guest’s charm that it obediently turned into a choir. Chick Corea divided the audience into parts and rehearsed with each of them. The men sang "A" and "E", the women - "C", "E" and "A". The result was an A minor chord; the introductions of the audience choir, led by the maestro, formed an element of the piece, played in an energetic Spanish manner. The orchestra too did not stand aside: following the author's plan, the students, as well as their experienced professors, joined in the improvisation. It turned out well, without any mess. The musicians played, the audience sang diligently and quite confidently. Your reviewer also did not spare the ligaments - after all, the next opportunity to sing at the Bolshoi the hall of the conservatory will not present itself soon."

On these happy notes (C, E, A), let me end this review and bid you farewell until next week.